Surviving a miscarriage... or four.
Trying to conceive is hard. Trying to conceive for a long time is harder. Trying to conceive for a long time and after loss is even worse. Way to many couples have to go through this, and unfortunately we are one of them.
I'm not going to tell you about all of the loses. Just the one that taught me lesson. I get that sounds weird, but bare with me. You’ll see what i mean. This blog post will be real, it will be harsh. If you don't feel you can handle that, please come back and read this another time!
Our second to last loss happen in January several years ago. At the time, it was planned that I would carry our first baby, and after previous loses, we were sure the next time would be the one. The cycle started out normal, my normal heavy AF, a few days of hot baths and heat packs we were ready to go. I began ovulation testing and was waiting for a peak result. As a same sex couple, we were using a known sperm donor and at home insemination. Our plan was when I hit a peak test, our donor would come that day and then the next day until I got a solid positive OPK. Unfortunately, the donor couldn't make the day we requested. We insemination 48 hours after my positive opk and we had pretty much convinced ourself we had missed it. As usual, I was ridiculously optimistic. We hoped for a miracle. And at 9dpo, we got a positive test. After trying for so long after a loss, we were absolutely over- joyed. I cannot even explain the feeling of happiness that swells up inside your chest when you see two pink lines. I cried for days, and all too soon the happiness wore off. It was replaced with an over whelming feeling of anxiety. What if I miscarried, what if I did something wrong and caused a miscarriage, what if, what if, what if.
And that 'what if' came true. I started to have some very minor spotting, but with my history they agreed to scan me straight away. As soon as the sonographer said "Excuse me a moment I have to get a doctor" I felt my heart drop. I already knew what was coming after that. I felt like I couldn't breath, I couldn't see or hear. The room just tunneled in on me. The doctor confirmed an early loss, maybe a week before. They told us the baby had not grown since my last scan but my body still believed it was pregnant. The hardest part about that loss was that my own body was betraying me. My boobs were still sore, my stomach still bloated, I was nausous and moody but it was just a cruel trick. Nothing was there, nothing was alive. The thought of carrying my dead baby inside me disgusted me, the thought of miscarriage at home was even worse. I couldn't handle that we had been so close and failed again. I opted for a D&C the next day. My last memory before succumbing to the anesthetic was the nurse stroking my head as I sobbed for the loss of another baby I'd never get to hold.
After my procedure, a chaplain visited us in my hospital room. We were given the chance to hold a cremation with the "remains". This was something we had never got to do before and it felt right. It felt like a way to help us grieve and to help us move forward. We could invite as many people as we wanted, and choose a prayer or poem to be read. It sounded lovely, or as lovely as a funeral could sound. We invited close family and a few friends. As we arranged the cremation I felt a weird sense of happiness that we could in some way acknowledge the loss and honour what could have been.
That was until the cremation. When nobody turned up. Various excuses flooded in. The nicest being a simple "sorry we can't make it." The more common comments of "it was early" " we didn't even know about it" and a personal sore spot "Why are you holding a funeral, it wasn't even a real child yet." That day broke my heart, and it was the day I decided to cut my ties with a LOT of people. It was the day I realised how truly lonely infertility and pregnancy loss could be. I knew to a certain extent it wasn't their fault, they were ignorant of pregnancy loss, they didn't know the pain, the depression, the guilt and self loathing. How could I blame them? But as I healed emotionally over time, I realised that shouldn't have mattered. It was important to use, we invited them for a reason and they should have come. It took us a long time to get over that miscarriage. What felt like betrayal from our family and friends made it even harder to grieve and move forward. We felt guilty and as if we had no right to grieve. Once we accepted that wasn't the case, healing came a lot easier. This is the lesson I spoke about learning earlier. After every miscarriage, I felt guilty. I felt guilty that I had lost the baby. I felt guilty that other people had lost full term babies, and I had only been in the first trimester. I felt guilty that babies dies of SIDS, and children dying of cancer. I felt like I had NO RIGHT to grieve something I hadn't even seen. But that wasn't true. A baby, no matter how small, no matter how developed, an embryo, a cluster of cells, a foetus, the second you are aware of that life living inside you, you dream about the future. Who they are, who they could have been. What they will look like, how it will feel to hold them. You are allowed to grieve that loss.
So here are my top tips to surviving a miscarriage from personal experience.
1. Don't deny your emotions. Screaming them to the world if it will make you feel better, keep a journal, write a song. Accept your right to grieve.
2. Put yourself first. Take time off work, take a vacation, get your nails and hair done. Just do something just for you. You'll feel like you're being selfish, like your denying your baby your sadness, but you're not. You have to love yourself to feel better.
3. Forgive yourself. No matter what, this wasn't your fault. Even if you miscarried due to a health condition within your body, you didn't MAKE this happen. You had no control over it, and you must accept that.
4. Hot water bottles, bubble baths and heat packs will save your life. Trust me.
5. TALK! The feelings of shame, and secrecy around miscarriage have to stop. 1 in 4 women miscarry. Your friends and family may be your biggest support you never knew you had. Sometimes we just need somebody who knows how shit life can really be.
"You will always be my favorite what if"
Tas x