I wish I had better news and I wish I didn’t feel the need to write this. I wish I didn’t have this story to share and I wish this blog was about something totally different.
But, alas. That’s not the case.
Take this as a TMI/trigger warning for the following post…
I found out I was pregnant again right around Hannah’s 2nd birthday. We were excited but still very reserved given the last miscarriage in March. I took like 5 tests this time, each about two days apart, to confirm the pregnancy.
I was pregnant when I went to Orlando to visit family and friends. The trip down was the mile marker for making it further this pregnancy than the last one. I thought that was a good sign. It felt like a good sign. I was good on the trip and drank alcohol free drinks at the pool. I didn’t over do it and I enjoyed relaxing. I was doing all the right things.
The miscarriage started on Monday, July 15th. I thought I was 8w1d that day. I had a dating ultrasound scheduled for Thursday that week to confirm how far along I was because the doctor said based off feel he thought I could have been further along.
That day I was working from home and started to have light cramping and discharge. It wasn’t consistently bright red (some darker red too) so, when I called the doctor, they said to monitor and call back if it became consistently bright red. So… monitoring was all I could do at this point. Great. Throughout the afternoon my cramping got worse but the bleeding never picked up. That night we were laying in bed watching Stranger Things and the cramping was so bad I had to use a heating pad to help. In between episodes I got up to go the bathroom and that’s when it happened.
All at once I passed a mass the size of about a half dollar, lots of clots, and the bleeding super picked up. I just started crying because I knew what was happening. I could feel it. I could see it. I was losing this baby too.
When I was in the bathroom, Rob was in the kitchen and didn’t hear me yet. When I got up, I met Rob in the hallway sobbing and said “it’s happening again”. We both were devastated and I just laid on his lap on the couch to cry. Why was this happening again? What did I do? What’s wrong with me? Two miscarriages in a row isn’t as common and it’s more concerning. Will I ever get a second baby? I was just broken.
The rest of the night was just sad. Lots of tears and hugs.
The next morning both of our bosses were understanding and let us off work. I went to the doctor first thing for an appointment and they did an ultrasound. I had the same technician as the first time (if anyone recalls – she wasn’t the most sensitive). I planned out my responses to her questions all the previous night when I couldn’t sleep. I planned to cut her off at the jump (so she couldn’t further traumatize me) and tell her I was 8w2d but currently miscarrying since, right after the ultrasound started, I could already see there was nothing in my uterus. She then confirmed, indeed there was nothing there. She really needs sensitivity training. The ultrasound just didn’t feel super real, honestly.
I met with the doctor afterwards to review the results and she said it could be a miscarriage or I could be too early along (which I SUPER doubted based off the cramping and bleeding I saw). When I asked her about why this happened and what we could do she said “We can wait and see if this happens again and, if so, do some additional testing then, OR we could do the additional testing now”. I’m not even honestly sure why she posed this as an option since, waiting for another miscarriage sounds like the SHITTIEST idea ever… I definitely set an appointment to talk with my main OBGYN to review what we could do now instead of waiting.
Anyways, the same day as the ultrasound, and for the next three weeks, I had to have HCG blood draws to track my hormone as it declined to 0. Every week back at the lady doctor was painful. There were so many happy pregnant people there in the waiting room each time. Even one couple gushing over ultrasound pictures. I hated going back each week. I’d just sit in the waiting room and cry to myself starring at the floor waiting for them to call my name.
At my last blood draw appointment I had my appointment with my main OBGYN too. My doc said he’s hopeful it won’t happen again because I’ve already carried one healthy baby but we don’t know for sure. As a precaution he said there was a “recurrent miscarriage” blood panel they could do to look for issues that could be causing the miscarriages. He also suggested that, next time I get pregnant, I come in right away from hormone blood draws to track my hormone increase to make sure that’s not an issue.
That blood panel was a MESS! The phlebotomist handed me an estimate to sign for how much it would cost, after insurance, and it was 864$. I tried to call my insurance for 40 minutes to get answers on if that was correct and just kept getting the run around. I was getting transferred between departments and I was hung up on/disconnected several times. It was a nightmare. I was an emotional mess and just started crying to the phlebotomist because all I wanted was to not have another miscarriage and my insurance company was making it so hard. It was a rough morning. Luckily the phlebotomist was amazing and didn’t have any other patients so I just sat there.
After nearly an hour of messing with the insurance company and finding NO ONE that could use the CPT codes I was provided to get me answers, I gave up. I said screw it and wanted the blood draw regardless of cost because, money or not, I needed answers and my health was more important. Unfortuneately, by now, when the lady tried to take it, I was too dehydrated and had to come in the next day for the draw anyways. Super SMH. 🤦♀️
Such a damn hassle and my results were normal. Net net – I have no answers and just have to hope I don’t write another one of these blogs sharing my story in a few more months. It’s so hard to be optimistic.
At the end of the day, I wanted to write this to share and help someone else who’s going through something similar. It feels so lonely and empty and broken. It’s so hard to lose a baby that you never got to know or hold. A baby that your most of your family and friends didn’t know about. So hard to lose two babies. Two babies in a row. It’s a sadness that just hangs over you.
I’ve been coping better by being more open about all of this. Sharing my story makes it feel less like a scarlet letter and more like something I’m working to over come. It won’t be the end of our family story but just a piece of it. I don’t need to hide my loss and feel ashamed. By telling people what’s going on I’m surrounded with more love and support. If you don’t tell anyone, no one knows what you’re going through and can’t offer help. While that seems like an easy concept to understand some people forget it and isolate themselves. My family, friends, and coworkers have been so great and supportive.
What’s important is that we’re not giving up! Things will get back on track and we will try again. This too shall pass. In the meantime, I’ll stay busy and focus on my health.
Like I said before… this isn’t the end of our story ♥️