I Can't Get Over My Miscarriage, And This Is Why

I had found out I was pregnant only 10 days earlier, and even though we were surprised as this was not a planned pregnancy, we were excited. We had just started telling our family and close friends the news. My husband was looking up baby names the night before and I was looking up ways to tell the kids, with Christmas right around the corner we could use their Elf on the Shelf to tell them. We were thinking of finding out the sex of the baby this time as we hadn’t with the others. We hoped it was a boy so then him and his brother would only be 16 months apart and could maybe one day play football together. Then out of nowhere…

I started bleeding.

Heavily.

I had mentioned this to my husband that next morning and told him I would call the clinic as soon as they opened.

I called.

I cried.

I told my husband we had to go to the doctor as they needed to see what was happening. On the way in we barely talked, I turned to him and sobbed, “I’m sorry, babes, maybe I didn’t want it bad enough, maybe this is why this is happening.” Of course, this was not any fault of my own, yet that is all I could feel at that moment.

They run a blood test and my hcg level was low. My midwife stated that I was most likely miscarrying and that I would need to be back in for another blood test later that week. We got back home and all I wanted to do was take a shower. I wanted to wash away all the pain of the day, however, standing in the shower I noticed the blood washing down the draining.

I sobbed.

Could that really be my baby just washing down the shower drain?

My. God. I just want this to be over.

I was hoping this was all just a bad dream.

I went back to the doctor two days later and they ran yet another blood test, my hcg levels rose only slightly. This was not expected. My midwife stated that if I was miscarrying my numbers should have gone down not up…. I was confused.

I just spent the past few days processing what I was told. I was most likely miscarrying. But, now there was a this glimmer of hope…maybe I was not miscarrying. Maybe we were going to have this baby after all! For the remainder of the weekend, my head was spinning.

Did we lose this baby? Should I still look up more ways to tell the kids? Baby names?

At the doctor on Monday, my hcg numbers rose again. More good news, right? Well, they were not sure as these levels needed to double every 48 hours and mine only slightly rose. They ordered an ultrasound for the next day to rule out the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy. I met with my midwife after the ultrasound and she said they were no signs of an ectopic pregnancy, but there also was nothing found in my uterus.

“Nothing in my uterus. So that means no baby?”

“Right, no baby. So you probably miscarried like we discussed last week,” she stated

I cried yet again.

That’s it. This is finally done, I thought.

The following week on my way to work I had horrible cramping pains and could barely walk or drive. I called the hospital to speak to my nurse to see what this was all about and she stated that I needed to get to the Emergency Room.

At the ER, they drew my blood to run more tests and took a urine sample to see if this was just a bladder infection…they then did an ultrasound where they found a tennis ball size mass in my left fallopian tube.

Wait.

What?!

I was just here last week and they saw nothing, now all of a sudden there is a tennis size ball mass! The doctor stated I needed to have emergency surgery due to the size of the mass.

At that moment.

That day.

Sitting in the ER with my husband.

It happened.

On September 19th, at 8 weeks and two days pregnant, I lost my baby due to an ectopic pregnancy. The pain of losing a child and the pain of the surgery has been unbearable some days.

I want to cry and mourn this loss, but it physically hurts to do so because of the 3 inch incision in my lower abdomen.

I wish I had someone to talk to, someone who has been through this same nightmare. I feel like there is no one. I cling to the support of my closest friends, family and, of course, my husband, as he too is hurting.

I just want this to be a dream. I just want to wake up and things will be back to “normal.”

But.

This is my new normal.

I have a constant reminder of that tragic day. Every time I get dressed or take a shower, its there staring at me and reminding me that “yep, you lost your baby and I will be here to remind you of that again tomorrow and that day after that.”

This scar is the worst part.

It is the constant reminder.

Pink or blue? We never knew. Our hearts are broken in two as we wish we could have met you.