I had a miscarriage.

And this is hard. I’m so sad. First it’s the sad of the shock and the loss. The reality that my baby had stopped growing. The reality that this was happening, that this was in fact a miscarriage. And now it’s the realities of all the things I’m going to be experiencing that I was supposed to do while pregnant. Weddings. Lots of weddings, and things to do with weddings. I was supposed to be pregnant and now I’m not. And it’s heartbreaking.

Today marks one week since I found out we lost you. And this is hard.

People don’t really talk about the experience of miscarriage enough. I mean, I see people post in their pregnancy announcements, referencing how this is their “🌈 baby,” but that’s kind of all I ever see about pregnancy loss and miscarriage. Nobody and nothing prepared me for what it is.

So, this is my experience. It’s been very traumatic. Not just emotionally, but physically with my body. But I want to talk about it and share my experience to talk about the reality of pregnancy loss and miscarriage.

Last Saturday morning, I woke up at 7am. That day marked 10 weeks pregnant. Baby was supposed to be the size of a strawberry. I went to the bathroom and as I wiped, I noticed brown discharge on the toilet paper. Okay, the alarms start going off but people say spotting is common in pregnancy. My husband was in the bedroom when I came out of the bathroom, a moment I was dreading sharing with him. But I had to do it, and I told him what happened. And from there, our worlds changed. My doctor’s office is closed on Saturdays, very frustrating for this situation. We started Googling this: does brown discharge mean a miscarriage? No. The resounding answer from Google was no. But, I was also having mild cramps. Google said that was okay too. I found a website that lets you chat with OBGYNs, so I messaged a doctor and shared my symptoms. This doctor, not knowing me or seeing me in person, said everything should be fine and that the spotting should go away within a week. But, he said, if anything changes, go to the ER. Okay, fine. But the anxiety was very real. So my husband found a local ER nurse hotline and called them. He spoke to a nurse. I was present in the room but couldn’t speak because by this point, I was crying with anxiety. The nurse was so kind and said that since this is my first pregnancy, to wait it out 24 hours and if the spotting continues, to go to the ER. So we spent that Saturday at home, with me resting the whole day (per recommendation of the nurse). By Saturday night, the brown spotting had been coming and going all day. Sometimes, I’d wipe and it was clean. Other times, I’d wipe and it was brown. Nothing was coming onto the panty liner I wore. At 8pm Saturday night, we talked about going to the ER. I decided that I wanted one more night at home and to wait the 24 hours as the nurse had recommended. Plus, none of our family would be awake and we wanted to have access to them, just in case.

At 2:00 on Sunday morning, I went to the bathroom. I lay in bed before going, hoping and praying that it would be clean when I wiped. Fearing that it wouldn’t be. So I went, and when I wiped, it was brown. 2:00 was too early to go to the ER, so I went back to sleep (as well as I could) until 7am. I woke up, went to the bathroom, still brown. Connor took the dogs out while I hopped in the shower. Then, at 7:15, we left to the ER. Now, I’ve never been to the ER as a patient. I’ve gone a couple of times for my family members, but never for myself. And it’s nerve wracking! We arrived at the ER and went to check-in. They had me fill out a form to declare my symptoms. I wrote “10 weeks pregnant and having brown spotting/bleeding.” It was still very early so we were admitted to a room right away.

First, the ER technician had me take my shirt off and put on the ER gown. I could still wear my comfy yoga pants. He hooked my finger up to a pulse monitor and to my other arm wrapped the device to monitor my blood pressure. After a little while, a nurse came in and started asking the questions. “You’re 10 weeks pregnant and having some bleeding?” And I responded “yeah it’s like a brown discharge. Nothing has gotten onto the panty liner yet but it comes and goes in waves.” In hindsight, this was probably the start of the contractions. Did you know having a miscarriage is essentially the same process as giving birth, where your body goes through contractions as it begins to expel the embryo/fetus? I bet my nurse knew that. But she was so kind and didn’t let on to anything. She explained that they were going to do a few tests: a blood test, urine test, and then an ultrasound. She came back a few minutes later and hooked me up to the IV. She took a few viles of blood, hooked up the IV bag, and said she’d be back in a few minutes. As we were waiting, I turned on the TV. “I should’ve brought my book,” I laughed to my husband, “I didn’t expect we’d be here for so long.” I turned on the TV and flipped to the cooking network. The Pioneer Woman was on and I decided to watch that. It’s a comfort show. I know my mom likes that show and I used to watch it with her. I was seeking comfort. After a little while, the nurse came back and had me give a urine sample. Then, it was back to the room to wait. At around 9am, the test results started coming back. My blood tests were looking good, urine tests came back clean. Around 9:30, the blood test result detecting my HCG levels came through. That was the one we were really waiting for. My levels were at 7,500. The chart labeled this as “high,” which is understandable for pregnancy. But when we Googled it, at 10 weeks pregnant, you should have HCG levels around 40-100,000.

Finally, at about 10am, the transport personnel came in and said she was there to take me to ultrasound. She wheeled me in a wheelchair through the hospital and to the ultrasound room. I hadn’t had an ultrasound up until this point. I was scheduled for my first one later that week, that Wednesday. I hadn’t seen anything about my, our, baby. The ultrasound technician had me lay down on the bed and explained that she’d do the exterior ultrasound first on my belly to see what she could see, and then she’d probably do an internal ultrasound depending on what she saw. So, she pulled my gown up and put the gel on my lower belly. Mind you, at this point I really had to use the bathroom. The IV had been pumping me full so that the external ultrasound could have a clearer image. And then she started the ultrasound. “You’re 10 weeks pregnant?” she asked. “Yeah, 9 or 10 weeks,” I said. I had ovulated later than a typical cycle so I was expecting to be 9-10 weeks. 10 weeks according to my last period. She kept moving the ultrasound around and then she found it. And she said, “it’s tiny” and kept moving the ultrasound around. “Yeah it’s tiny, you see?” She showed me the screen. The very first, and only, time I saw my baby. “It looks to be about 6 weeks.” And I think that’s the moment we knew. I kept looking at my husband and smiling. How hard it was to not be able to hold his hand or hug him through this. The technician then had me go to the bathroom and come back for the internal ultrasound. She found the fetal pole and again said “yeah there, it’s so tiny. I’d say it’s like 6 weeks 5 days it’s measuring.” I kept looking at my husband and smiling. What more could we do? She kept moving the ultrasound wand around and played sound for a second. It sounded like a heartbeat for a second, but then again, she only had the sound on for like 5 seconds, which I think told me again that there wasn’t anything to be heard. Also, did you know that ultrasound technicians aren’t supposed to tell you anything? Bless this tech’s heart for at least telling us that the embryo was measuring so small. That told us what we needed to know.

After we were done, she told us she’d have the report in within an hour. They wheeled me back to the ER room and there we waited, for almost an hour. Nobody came to see us. Just us, wondering and waiting.

We hadn’t told our parents yet. We hadn’t told any family. But I didn’t want us to be alone in this anymore. So, I texted my family in the group chat. And I told them. I said, this isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but we’re in the ER and I’m likely having a miscarriage.” And that was how my family found out about the pregnancy. That’s how my parents found out about their grandchild, how my sister found out about her niece/nephew. They found out as I told them that it had died. That was when it hit me. The grief. I couldn’t really stop crying after that.

My husband and I sat in that ER room, texting our families, still waiting for the test results. And then I got the text. Test results were in. “Fetal pole measuring small. No heartbeat detected. Findings likely indicate early pregnancy failure.” And there it was. My baby had died. Or maybe it had never lived. Had it ever had a heartbeat? We’ll never know. But it was official. We had lost the baby.

We sat in that ER room grieving for another hour. Our families now knew that they had a grandchild and lost it all in a moment’s time. After a while, the doctor came in and explained the findings. I think they waited because they knew we would get the test results and wanted to give us some time to be together with the news. The nurse then came in and unhooked me from the IV. They were all so kind. They were so understanding and just wonderful. Truly wonderful and compassionate care. I’m so grateful for that.

Connor and I left the ER and I finally called my parents. I was crying and it was hard to talk. Then we called my sister. And then we called Connor’s parents. That was hard and really sad.

We spent the rest of that Sunday grieving. And that Monday too. I stayed home from work. We grieved together. This loss was shocking and world-shattering.

And that wasn’t even the end of it. I think the worst was yet to come.

This was a lot and still is a lot. I went back to the ER that Tuesday. I’ll share more about that experience in my next post, I guess a “Part 2” about my miscarriage.

Until then, these are the pictures I have of the beautiful life we had in our lives, and the time we lost this precious blessing.

This is really hard. I’m so sorry for anybody who relates to this experience. It isn’t fair and this sucks. I hate this. Ugh.

More to come in Part 2.