Something that no mother should have to endure once I went through. Twice. In a row. The birth of a child is supposed to be a joyous occasion. I share this heartache with you so that others may know that they are not alone.
Soon after the miscarriage of our dear Shiloh we found out we were pregnant again. The timing was not ideal as I got the positive test from the doctor the day we left town for a cross-continental move. Our family stopped for a visit with my dad and took a road trip to get to the airport we needed to be at to finish the final leg of our epic move.
We arrived at the hotel for the night and got settled in. That is when I noticed that I had started spotting. Through the weekend visits with various family the spotting got worse and cramping started. I tried to ignore it all and even took pictures to announce us being pregnant. My sister-in-law and I took the kids to the aquarium and out to Spaghetti Factory for lunch. I called into my doctor but because I was in the middle of moving things got tricky with being able to receive care.
In the end I decided not to go to the emergency room and wait to see how things went once we got to where we were going. The next day was the day we were supposed to board the plane for a four hour flight with a toddler, a cat, and everything we could carry. I helped my dad unload the car while HD got us all checked in. I went to the bathroom in pain but there was nothing alarming. The spotting hadn’t increased. I was just cramping and exhausted after only 2 hours of being up.
My amazing husband got wheelchair service for me to get us from the check in area to the boarding gates. The pain continued to increase and then the spotting started to get worse. Not wanting to have to call emergency services at at airport we kept pushing forward with the trip but contacted our ride at the other side and told her that I was going to have to go to the ER from the airport.
The flight went surprisingly well and I was almost feeling better at the end of it. After a stop for dinner I was dropped off at the ER while HD took everyone else to the hotel to check in. This meant that I had to face the news alone. The ER doctor found our little peanut on the ultrasound complete with a fetal pole but no heart beat. That was ok though because the size was only 5 weeks gestation. There didn’t need to be a heart beat yet. They took a blood sample and the news came back that my counts weren’t consistent with how far along I should have been. They were on the low end.
It was explained that I could still carry to term but they would need to do follow up blood work to confirm if I was indeed miscarrying. A few days later I had the next blood draw then went out grocery shopping for the first big trip since we had arrived. It was on this trip with a friend that I got the phone call. My numbers had not gone up. I was indeed miscarrying.
This whole experience was so numb for me. I had other things to worry about. I couldn’t just sit on the couch and cry all day like I had with Shiloh. I had a house to move into and set up and a new speech person to become connected with for Big M. New climate to adjust to and new ways of doing things along with a new schedule to get used to. This resulted in me walking around for several MONTHS in a depressed haze.
There was nothing for me to mourn. I didn’t have the finality of seeing what was undoubtedly my baby. My little peanut passed like a month long period. No more bad cramps and no heavy bleeding. Just a normal flow for 3-4 weeks. No large blood clots either. I never got to see peanut alive because they never made it that far. That didn’t make this any easier just more difficult to find closure.