A Beach Lover: My Miscarriage Story

*I would like to preface this by apologizing for the long post, but hopefully it can help someone relate that is going through this and also the fact that it has a happy ending as I am now 30 weeks pregnant with our first child (you CAN and WILL have a happy ending too)!  Also, this might be a little graphic, but people that have never had a miscarriage just don't understand how horrible it really is.

In honor of miscarriage awareness day today, here is my story...

I found out we were expecting three days before Christmas of 2016.  I smiled to myself as I saw the positive pregnancy test and couldn’t wait to share the news with Steve! 

…We were going to be parents for the first time…

The day before Christmas Eve, I wrapped up the pregnancy test and put it in a holiday gift bag for Steve.  When he came home from work I told him that I had an early Christmas present for him.
He quickly ripped open the bag and said: “YOU’RE PREGNANT?!”  We were both grinning ear to ear and starred at each other smiling and thinking how cool and crazy it was that we were going to be parents.  We couldn’t wait!

Christmas Eve came and went… I pretended to have a few glasses of wine at our Christmas Eve party by filling up my wine glass with gingerale in our laundry room so that my friends and family wouldn’t get suspicious.

Steve and I woke up on Christmas morning and decided that we just had to share the news with our parents, we couldn’t wait!  We ended up telling both of our parents Christmas Day.  They were both 
ecstatic and I’m pretty sure there were many happy tears shed that Christmas!

Flash forward to Friday January 20, 2017- our first 8 week ultrasound at the Dr’s office and we could not be more excited!  We were finally going to see our little baby that we created.  

The day was finally here!

After what feels like forever in the waiting area, they finally call my name and we are brought into the ultrasound room.  The tech immediately starts doing her thing and does not say much.  She starts looking around and voicing what she is looking at and then turns completely silent and stops explaining anything to us.  She finally looks at me after what feels like an eternity and asks me when the start of my last period was and I immediately know that something is not right.

There is so much silence in the room you could literally hear a pin drop.  Steve grabs my hand and gently starts squeezing it.  The ultrasound tech finishes her business and tells me to get dressed and to have a seat in the waiting room.  As she cleans up her machine she takes our 8 week baby pictures and folds them up with her paperwork and leaves the room.

Steve and I both look at each other and I immediately begin sobbing.  He rubs my back and says “we aren’t sure yet, maybe this is how it always goes”.  After he helps me get dressed, we hobble back to the waiting room where we wait for another eternity.

People are starring at us as I sob and Steve consoles me.  I want to punch them all in the face…each and every one of them.   The couple that I want to punch the most is sitting directly across from us looking at their ultrasound pictures, while they smile and gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes.
…I want that to be us, this isn’t fair…

The rest of the story is just as terrible as you might imagine.  We are told that after 8 weeks of being pregnant and thinking that we are going to be first time parents, we are not. 
It was like someone punched me in the face repeatedly and ripped out my heart.

...nothing mattered anymore, I was not going to be a mom...

A few weeks later I was sticking a pill in my you know what to term our baby.  I sat on the couch the entire weekend with Steve and cried and thought of how horrible it would be if we could never fulfill our dream of wanting to be parents.

Needless to say, Superbowl Sunday was pretty much the worst night of my life.  Let's just say there was lots of blood and lots of unidentifiable objects coming out of me.  (I told you this would be graphic).

I joined a Facebook miscarriage support group that had over 3,000 people in it.  Although it was nice to hear others stories you just feel so alone, hurt and confused. After a few weeks I realized that the support group was not for me.  People were writing that they had 5-6 miscarriages and I needed to start thinking positive, plus I was not familiar with their health history or current situations (for all I knew they were a 50 year old crackhead that was trying to get pregnant).

I would not recommend joining large online support groups, but rather just talking to one or two people that you know have had miscarriages.  I actually met a couple girls from the Facebook support group that I felt had similar situations to me and I messaged them privately to talk and left the larger group.

Also- the shit people say to you when they find out you are having a miscarriage is unbelievable.  If you’ve never had a miscarriage before I highly recommend keeping your mouth closed and not offering advice, but I will tell you the worst thing you can do is NOT say anything at all.  I had some friends and family members completely ignore the situation and I still to this day do not understand it.

 I recommend avoiding the three comments below:

 “Well at least you were able to get pregnant, that’s a good sign” 

“1 in 4 pregnancies end in a miscarriage”

"They are so common"

After a few weeks, the depression subsides and you go about your daily routine and start feeling like yourself again.  I still think about our unborn baby every single day, I'm pretty sure not a day has gone by where I have not thought about our first baby that I will never get to meet (I'm actually convinced it was a boy).  Today, I would have had a 2 month old, but instead we will have to wait until January to meet our little Rainbow baby and I am finally at peace with the situation.

If you have a similar situation and would like to reach out to me to talk, please feel free as I would love to hear from you.

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