MY SECOND MISCARRIAGE

Originally Published June 15, 2021

MY FIRST MISCARRIAGE WAS SHOCKING.

Out of nowhere. Unexpected. Threw me for a loop.

It happened in July 2020, it was quick, it was straightforward. It was done.

Kevin and I in the middle of our first miscarriage, which happened while we were on vacation in Florida.

I received my certification as a Fertility Educator that summer and felt equipped with the knowledge that I needed to make sense of my lifelong irregular cycles.

In August, I found out I had Insulin Resistance which could have been the culprit of that loss. I chose to try to manage my insulin levels through diet, exercise, and Inositol before trying medication. That decision in itself was an emotionally taxing story that I will have to write another day.

I had one long cycle after the miscarriage and then we decided to give it one shot and try again for a baby. My heart was in a hurry as I prepared for my youngest to turn 2. We hoped perhaps that the first miscarriage would be an anomaly and that the lifestyle changes I was making could prevent it from happening again. If I didn’t get pregnant that month, we were going to wait several months before trying again.

My basal body temperature started dropping 8 days after ovulation and I started spotting on day 9. It appeared I was not pregnant and I was ok with that. Relieved, you might say. I realized then that I may not be emotionally ready for another pregnancy

Over the next few days, my temperature plummeted so I knew my progesterone was too low to support a pregnancy.

But my period never showed up.

Driving alone in the car, I very vividly imagined a little baby in my womb, desperately trying to implant in an environment that was not ready for him.

I begged God to help him fight and for my body to respond accordingly.

I didn’t even know for sure that I was pregnant and yet my gut was telling me that I was heading for another miscarriage.

THE PREGNANCY

This is 27. My face says it all. Waking up so afraid on the morning of my birthday.

On October 5th, 13 days past ovulation I got a positive pregnancy test. I took a picture of it, I wanted to be excited, but I mostly felt dread.

I went into my midwife’s office later that day for blood work and found that my progesterone was indeed very low at a 4. I started progesterone supplements that day and my temperature immediately responded by spiking.

My hcg was at 50 and we would check again in a few days to make sure it was rising.

I also decided to start Metformin, the medication to help my insulin levels because I didn’t feel confident that I had enough time to make any real change through lifestyle alone.

I wanted to do everything I possibly could to save this baby and after that appointment, I started to feel a tiny twinge of excitement.

On October 8th my HCG levels rose to 223, a beautiful, reassuring rise. That day, I was feeling much more confident and we told a few close friends and family.

I remember how the joy of sharing our news so quickly turned to pain. I wanted people to know, but I wasn’t ready for them to be too happy about it. I was afraid I was setting them up for deeper grief and really, I was hoping they would simply take the news and slip it quietly in their back pocket, hiding their reactions from me.

On October 9th, I began spotting. This is where the tornado of emotions really began to do damage in my soul.

At times, I would have the strength to pray hard over my little one. A confidence would rise up in my spirit and I felt things would be ok.

A few hours later I would break down and cry, believing my baby would not survive.

And then I would rest. And then pray. And then cry.

Over and over again.

I knew quite clearly that this baby was named Israel. Meaning “God fights”, his name was a reminder to me that Jesus is fighting so that we can have life, and life to the full. I knew that there was nothing more I could be doing to save this baby and that the battle was in God’s hands. My faith was strengthened in that time, but it was an ever-roaring roller coaster that I could not get off of.

For 6 more days I rode that nauseating ride. Ups and downs and tears and prayers.

THE NEWS

And then on October 15th, I woke up as a brand new 27-year-old. It was my birthday. But my mind was focused on the phone call I was waiting for.

I had done a third HCG draw and a second progesterone draw to see how things were going. If the pregnancy was still developing normally, my HCG would be somewhere around 1700. My brain did that math repeatedly, an obsession I couldn’t let go. If my hcg had dropped from the previous 223, we would know I had lost the baby once again.

I believe it was around 10 am when my phone finally rang. The nurse was quick. To the point, “Your HCG dropped to 133 so unfortunately this is a miscarriage. The doctor wants to see you tomorrow.”

The end.

The tears came quickly and easily. The emotions were jumbled and stumbled out.

The rest of the day my loved ones were speechless, unsure of how to honor my birthday. Other friends who had no idea what was going on kept telling me to have a great day, which felt like an accidental slap in the face.

I can only hope that that will go down as the absolute worst birthday of my entire life.

The next morning, I woke up with an odd sense of relief. Like I could finally breathe again.

With my first loss, the miscarriage itself was the traumatic part. But with this one, the 10 days of pregnancy felt like a constant, inescapable storm. Thunder and lightning and hail and wind and darkness with no end in sight. I truly did not think I would be able to breathe again until I reached the 20-week anatomy scan and saw a healthy baby.

To be released from those scary emotions on October 16th gave me a few days of calm that I desperately needed. And while I would have done anything to change the outcome, my body was thankful for the rest.

I went to the doctor’s office that morning and was told to stop taking the progesterone so the miscarriage process could begin.

”It was an early loss. This will pass smoothly.”

The doctor was kind and encouraging. And he reiterated the fact that my uncontrolled insulin levels were likely the culprit.

”Metformin will prevent another loss but you have to be on it before you get pregnant.”

He had no intention of placing blame. He even stressed that it was not my fault.

But I chose to delay medication and manage my insulin levels through lifestyle alone.

I felt guilty, wondering if that decision sealed my baby’s fate.

I can only remind myself now that I was doing the best I could with the information I had at the time. I’ve worked through that guilt in both professional and informal counseling.

And to anyone reading this who has a history of loss, you have to know too, that we cannot carry blame. Sure, there may be things we wish we did differently but no one can ever truly tell us the outcome had we made a different decision.

We do the best we can. And that’s it.

THE MISCARRIAGE PROCESS

I began bleeding within two days after I quit the progesterone. I had a regular “period-like” bleed for 5 days and assumed it was over.

But then I just kept spotting and cramping and bleeding for another 10 days.

On October 31st I took a pregnancy test to see if my hcg levels had dropped but it was still positive. I knew something wasn’t quite right and talked with my midwife who told me to monitor for signs of infection. If I wanted to keep waiting for my body to pass it on its own I could, or I could start medication to help at any point.

I chose to keep waiting.

On November 1, I did stop bleeding and I thought maybe something had changed. I held out hope that maybe it was all over.

But at 4 pm on November 2, I very suddenly was overtaken by the worst cramps I have ever experienced. It honestly felt like I suddenly went into labor. But there was no break in between contractions like you get in a full-term birth.

It was just constant, horrible, scary pain. For 3 hours straight I alternated between the tub and shower. I used all my doula techniques to manage the pain and breathe through it.

I kept fearing that I would suddenly hemorrhage but thankfully I didn’t bleed much at all. It was bizarre.

Around 7 pm it started to get easier and around midnight I was finally able to sleep.

I think it’s so important that we talk about how to view miscarriage. So often we’re told it will be “just like a period.” And my first one pretty much was.

But so often it is nothing like a period and it is everything like labor. You are, in fact, delivering a baby. It’s just, unfortunately, the outcome is quite different.

Never thought I would be so discouraged to see a positive pregnancy test.

Women need to know that miscarriage can be truly hard work. They need to be told to take the week (or more) off. To make sure they’re not alone. To feel absolutely free to call if they have concerns about how much pain they’re in or how much blood they’re losing. It’s so important.

Even as a doula, I did not know much about this. But after sharing part of my experience through social media, many other women shared their stories with me about laboring alone, about hemorrhaging, about being stuck in bed for days due to the pain of miscarriage.

And that doesn’t even begin to touch on the emotional experience.

After that experience I then had another 6-day “period-like” bleed. On November 11th after the bleeding had ceased for a few days I was sure it was over. I took a pregnancy test, but it was still positive.

I had a few more days of spotting. It stopped. I took a pregnancy test on November 18th. Still positive.

I vividly remember this feeling of agitation in my uterus. A cramp, but different. Almost like the feeling of forcing the wrong end of two magnets together. Pushback. Butting heads. When I think about it today, I can almost feel it again. It kept coming, on and off, throughout this entire process.

At some point during those weeks, I had an ultrasound and found that indeed, I did still have some retained tissue in my uterus which was likely why my body kept revolting. My HCG levels were hanging out around 100 and just not dropping any further.

I saw another midwife and together we made a plan to give it a week. If I was still getting a positive pregnancy test after a week, I would need to come back to the office for more blood work and then start medication to finish the miscarriage.

Well, just before my week was up I was heavily exposed to Covid and was not allowed back in the office. That ended up not mattering though because on November 22 I started yet another “period-like” bleed that lasted 8 days.

Finally, on December 2nd, 7 weeks after my miscarriage was discovered, my body let go.

I tested negative and knew it was finished.

PICKING UP THE PIECES

What a crazy time in my life that was. I remember wanting so badly to grieve and move on. But I never felt able to because the process was so drawn out.

I remember the dread of each positive test. Wanting a baby so badly and yet hating that my tests were positive.

When I think back on those 7 weeks, I hear a very loud silence. As if I didn’t speak a word through the entire process. As if I was standing in one place while time swirled around me. Looking back now, I can’t believe it lasted for so long. It is all a very distant, surreal memory.

When the miscarriage was finally over we had dinner with our pastors and began the journey of healing. I started therapy in January and have found it so incredibly helpful. I’m dealing with not only the grief, but so many other hard aspects of my life. I feel like I have made big strides, in my emotions, in my overwhelming stress levels, in my relationships, and in my spiritual life. Had I not lost the pregnancy, I doubt that I would have started counseling at all.

Physically, I have been learning so much about insulin resistance and how to manage it. For the first time in my entire life, I am having normal, regular, fairly healthy cycles which is incredible to me. I have been menstruating dysfunctionally for 16 years, you guys, so this is huge. I’ve also been learning about how insulin resistance affects women as they get older, contributing to difficulty in peri-menopause and dementia in the older years. I’m thankful that I’m learning all of this now at age 27 while I still have time to change things.

Ornaments made by women of our church to help us honor our babies.

TODAY WAS MY DUE DATE

Today, June 15th, I am supposed to be welcoming baby Israel in my arms. It feels so strange because the pregnancy itself never really felt real.

I have been struggling silently when I think about Israel’s name. “God Fights.” There were times I felt so strongly that God was telling me He would fight for and save this baby. It seems like every worship song lately is about God winning all the battles and I’m sitting here wondering why he didn’t win that time.

But as I reflect on all of this today and see all the ways I am healing this year, emotionally, physically, and spiritually, I have to wonder if God has actually been fighting for me all along. Helping me to optimize this crappy situation and bring true life change through it. I don’t believe he chose for me to miscarry but just maybe, He used Israel’s short little life to fight for my good. Thinking of that now makes me sob a bit if I’m being honest.

Israel, you are so loved and I wish so badly that we were meeting you today. And while I will never know the full intention behind your life, I am so thankful for you.

Your sisters miss you every day and I know your daddy does too. You will be in our hearts until the day we finally meet you face to face.

I grieve this loss frequently and maybe I always will. If you’re reading this today and grieving too, know my heart is with you. There is nothing easy about this process and miscarriage just really sucks.

But I pray that for you too, God will use this hardship for your good. I believe something new has been born even though your baby didn’t make it. I invite you to ponder this question, “What came alive in you as a result of your pregnancy loss?”

Because our God fights for LIFE. Jesus came so that you may have life and life to the full. Fortunately for us, that means that even in death, new life is born.

All my love to you and sincerely, thank you for reading. It has been an important part of my healing process to write this and share it with you.

God fights. God wins. Be blessed.