The Reality of Pregnancy Loss

When you’re a young, healthy, active woman, you don’t ever really think that you’re going to struggle with getting pregnant. You don’t really see a miscarriage as something that will happen to you. Of course, you know in the back of your mind that there is always a slight possibility, but your naive self believes that is something that happens to other women, not something you’ll experience first hand. Until you do.

My first experience with pregnancy loss

I was 30 years old when my husband, Mike, and I tried to get pregnant for the first time. It only took us a few months, and we were thrilled! I went to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy, and when the nurse came back into the room after running the test, she said, “Yep, you’re definitely pregnant. That test lit up like a Christmas tree!” I smiled when she said this, thinking that we were off to a great start.

A few weeks later it was time for our first ultrasound. My husband came with me to the appointment. We had previously made dinner plans with our best friends for later that evening, and we decided we were going to share our news and show them the pictures at dinner. It would be perfect! We couldn’t wait. They were going to be the first people we told – even before our parents.

At the appointment, the ultrasound tech was chatting with us and asking us questions while she was getting set up. She asked me to confirm the first day of my last period. Then she was measuring, looking at the screen, and her tone changed when she asked me to confirm the date again. Once she asked me a third time, I knew something wasn’t right.

After the ultrasound, we met with the doctor. In that moment, I was hoping that it was just a fluke. Maybe the tech had gotten it wrong and everything was actually fine? That wasn’t the case. The doctor looked at us and said, “At this point, you are 7 weeks and 4 days, but the baby is only measuring at 5 weeks and 2 days. We weren’t able to find a heartbeat, which means the baby has stopped growing. I’m very sorry.”

We both listened and nodded as he explained our options to us. As we got in the car, we sat quietly for a moment, not really sure what to say. Mike finally looked at me and said “Let’s cancel tonight. We can make plans to have dinner another day.” I thought about it and replied, “No, it’s ok. Let’s go.” He asked if I was sure, and I said I was. “At least now I can drink at dinner,” I added. That was my half-ass way of trying to convince myself that it wasn’t that bad. Didn’t work.

From bad to worse

A few hours later, we were getting ready for dinner. I was still trying to process everything, and I thought it might be a nice distraction to spend time with our closest friends. A chance to take our minds off of what happened earlier, if only for a little while. We decided that we weren’t going to say anything about it, so as not to ruin the mood at dinner.

In the car on the way to the restaurant, I thought suddenly popped into my head. A strange feeling came over me. I turned to my husband and said “Sarah’s going to tell us she’s pregnant.” The thought was so real it felt like I could almost see it happening. My husband looked at me, and said, “Babe, let’s turn around. We don’t have to go.” After a minute, I decided that I was probably just over-reacting and a little emotional because of what happened earlier that day, and said that we should still go.

We arrived at dinner, and I felt relieved to see our friends. Sarah hugged me, and I could almost feel a little of the tension leave my body. We started chatting, and I could feel myself starting to think less and less about that morning. After a few moments, my spidey senses kicked in. I suddenly felt exactly the way I had in the car when I had envisioned what I knew was about to happen. Sarah looked at me, and said, “We have something we want to tell you guys.”

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment, I thought I might pass out. Those words were like a knife right to the heart. My husband reached under the table and squeezed my hand. I had a million thoughts swirling around in my mind.

“I KNEW this was going to happen!”

“What do I do now?”

“Please don’t lose it right here at the table.”

After a few seconds, my brain kicked in, and I yelled out “Congratulations!” and jumped up to hug them. Luckily, I was able to explain that the tears were for them, even though my husband and I knew they were for us.

I had three glasses of wine at dinner that night when I normally only have one. It was the longest dinner of my life. After their announcement, I don’t really remember much of the rest of the night. I guess I pulled off a good enough performance, because neither of them sensed that anything was wrong.

After dinner, we said our goodbyes and got back in the car. Mike and I rode in silence for the entire 20 minute drive home. When we pulled into the driveway, I got out of the car before he had even turned off the ignition. I walked inside and went directly to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet in the dark and cried. Mike came in a few moments later and hugged me. We stood there for a while in the dark, me crying and him holding me.

Finally, once I had stopped crying, I looked at him and asked “I knew that was going to happen. Why did I just do that to us?” He didn’t have an answer, and neither did I.

What was it all for?

At the time, I didn’t know the reason for having to experience that situation. Now, looking back, I know that it was one of the defining moments of my life, and it taught me a lot. It taught me to trust my instincts. It taught me to respect others’ privacy. This experience helped me to see others struggles. To appreciate the gift of pregnancy. It taught me that women need support, and shouldn’t experience things like this alone.

It’s hard to stay hopeful when you’re going through such an emotionally draining experience. But there’s something even stronger than hope that you need in order to keep going. You can find out what that thing is by reading my post titled “The one thing you need after pregnancy loss.”

So many people have stories like mine that they could share. Some of them far worse than this. Whatever your situation is, please don’t feel like you have to brave it alone. There is power and support in sharing. There is an entire sisterhood that are willing to help. Including me. If you’re ever struggling or feeling alone, please reach out. And ALWAYS listen to your instincts.