Miscarriage. A word so many experience, yet a word usually suffered in silence. In 2016 I miscarried and it broke my heart. The whole pregnancy was off when I look back on it but the ending was one of the worst experiences of my life.

I had been told by my OBGYN’s office that I was 6 weeks pregnant when in fact I should have been around 9 weeks. I called them three times extremely confused because their dating meant I conceived my child AFTER I had already missed my period and had tested positive on a pregnancy test. Since I am pretty sure I am not some Virgin Mary marvel and though I am not good at math, I knew that something was not adding up. I was reassured numerous times everything was fine and even though it did not make sense to me (at all) I tried to not stress as stress is bad for the baby.

A few days later I was driving and felt a gush down in my lady bits. I had experienced some spotting that day but not a lot so I was not entirely sure what I was feeling. I got home as fast as I could and ran to the bathroom. Just one wipe… and the amount of blood I saw was extremely alarming. I waited for my husband to come home from work and we went straight to the ER. We sat in the waiting room for what felt like forever. My husband got upset at one point and couldn’t believe we weren’t getting in any faster and that’s when I realized… I was either bleeding a lot and the baby was fine, or I was bleeding a lot and the baby wasn’t fine. In either of those situations there really was nothing anyone could do for me. It was sad, but the honest truth.

We finally made our way in to an examination room and both of us were pretty uneasy. We finally see the doctor and I explained to her what my OBGYN had said and what I had been experiencing. She seemed very concerned and left the room to pull up my last ultrasound and any other documents she could find. We waited. Waited some more.

She finally returned and had a very upset and sad look on her face. She presented me with a piece of paper and on it was just one small paragraph… a paragraph that only consisted of maybe a few mere sentences. She explained to me that these were the results from my ultrasound and the last sentence read… “unable to detect heart beat; suspected failed pregnancy”. I burst into tears. The only words I could put together were “thank you for being the first person to be honest with me.” I didn’t understand why my OBGYN’s office hadn’t told me this in the three calls I had, had with them. It was a simple small paragraph they apparently kept checking and referring to each time I told them something was not adding up.

We left the hospital after being given advise that should I experience any cramping to go back and get pain medication to help. Not knowing what to expect or wait for, we went home and I just went to bed. The following night I hadn’t really felt much aside from the loss of blood, until out of the blue I felt this tiny little pain in my abdomen and then it started to grow… then it subsided. I don’t even get cramps during my period so this was entirely a new feeling for me. It went away.

I decided to just go to bed. Okay, it started to happen again and wow that one was stronger and more painful. Every few minutes this pain would start small, intensify and then dissipate. Each time getting stronger and more painful. I thought to myself… wait am I experiencing contractions? What happened to having just cramps? By this time my husband had heard me moaning in pain and was by my side… and then holy mother of God! The contractions were not even seconds apart and so unbelievably painful it felt like I was being stabbed. One right after another with no breaks in between. I crawled to the bathroom while in so much pain. Finally after what felt like a lifetime… something passed and boom… instantly the pain was gone? I literally stumbled out of the bathroom and collapsed on the bed and passed out from the exhaustion and just slept.

4 a.m. rolls around and I am awoken by the pain again. Only this time it didn’t ease into it, it went from zero to sixty and was instantly full throttle stabbing contractions. It scared me so much that I started to hyperventilate and as hard as I tried I was unable to catch my breathe. My lips and hands started to tingle. I felt like I was going to pass out but I crawled to the bathroom again. This time I was crying, yelling and trying to not puke from the pain. After I thought I just might die… finally something passed once more and just like the first time… the pain instantly stopped.

My husband carried me back to bed and I was a complete mess. Crying and also completely in shock at the violent episode I had just experienced. He wanted to take me to the hospital but I told him I didn’t want to leave the house. I fell back asleep. I had just mini labored my little child.

In the following days and weeks I kind of just felt numb. We hadn’t told many people we were pregnant aside from a few friends who figured it out on their own, so I didn’t know what to say or do. I felt this empty hole inside of myself which swirled around and it continuously bumped into anger, sadness, confusion and sorrow. I had no idea how to process any of my emotions or handle my feelings because I didn’t know anyone else who had experienced this who I felt comfortable enough talking to. I just knew time would heal and I kept it to myself.

I had a friend who was pregnant at that time too… and even though I had told her I was okay and happy for them still… I wasn’t and it broke my heart hearing about her pregnancy. In all honesty I wish she would have held back around me and was not so open and happy towards me about it all (which I know isn’t fair to say but it’s what I felt at the time)… hearing about the doctors appointments, the ultrasounds, long talks about her wanting a boy and how she would be upset if it was another girl, watching a gender reveal to find out it was thankfully a boy, hearing about kicks and growth, how happy they were… it all made my broken heart break a little bit more. I would have given anything to experience it all on my own but instead I was on the sidelines listening to and seeing all the things I would not get to experience for myself. It’s the a weirdest feeling being envious about another person when you’re filled with so much sadness. It almost makes you start to resent them and resentment is never a nice color on anyone. Part of me wanted to say STOP… but… the nice person in me kept smiling. A smile I could hide behind but holy fuck did I hold on to that smile for dear life.

I knew time was my answer and I would heal the more it passed. Telling myself that didn’t make it any easier though. After I felt like I had expressed all of my emotions properly and let them out, I went and saw a psychic medium, got a memorial tattoo and I eventually found closure and finally my real smile again. I found ways to accept an outcome I never received an answer to (why) and I eventually regained my own happiness. I found peace with the entire situation. It wasn’t until then did I start to openly talk about what had happened. It didn’t take long for me to realize how many women close to me who they too had experienced a miscarriage. Even strangers I opened up to would share their stories too. Some were still emotional about it, some were clearly healed from it while some actually seemed relieved it had happened. Everyone experienced it differently… but the bottom line was everyone experienced it. Mostly alone too.

Why are we hiding from something so many experience and feel/hurt so deeply? What makes this topic so un-sharable and so taboo? Every pregnancy has a 50/50 percent chance of making it… and we should have a one hundred percent ability in being vocal about it when it doesn’t make it. You were making a life, and then it ended before you could even enjoy all of it fully. It ended completely out of yours or anyone’s control and that’s not something that should be hidden or kept within. You lost a child before you could meet them… it is okay to mourn them and talk about it. I’ve been told you become a mother the moment you conceive… a mother should be allowed to talk about the loss of her unborn child openly and safely.

I will continue to talk about my experience and hopefully it helps other women talk about theirs too. Change cannot be done without taking active steps in the right direction so here is another one of my strides towards women healing and growing in that right direction. Here was my story and hope you find some solace in knowing you too are not alone if you experienced one as well. xo