I don't know where to start with this. Maybe from the beginning, with my shaking hand as I tried to take pictures of the faintest of faint lines on my wondfo tests, or my racing heart and head as I stared at my beautifully positive frer the next morning, brightest sunshine (beyond rare in dark and dreary Portland, Oregon) streaming in the window, illuminating it, reinforcing that perfect moment for what it was: holy, sacred.
I was scared, as I always am (not just about miscarriage, but about everything, if I'm being honest) but still I celebrated. I ordered a few perfect maternity pieces (they have yet to arrive, which is hard for me to even think about right now). I called birth centers. I called my sister. We went to a hotel and I stayed out of the hot tub. I called one midwife and mentioned I was scared of miscarriage and she said "have you ever miscarried?" I said no. She said "oh then you probably won't." I was so reassured. I was so grateful. Maybe she still said the right thing. But I wish she hadn't said it now.
When the spotting started a couple days ago, I panicked, but was reassured by the advice nurse and my friends and my husband that it was normal. But it didn't feel normal. But again - I panic. I assume the worst. I don't want to set myself up only to fall that much farther. I'd rather be pleasantly surprised than devastated.
But it turns out that doesn't work. I am no less devastated. I had no idea the sadness could be this profound. I have always worried about miscarriage, but I had no idea what I was actually worrying about. This is beyond what I could have imagined.
Leading up to today, when I heard the results of the hcg test (21, devastatingly low for over 5 weeks) and subsequently started bleeding heavily, I attempted to comfort myself by telling myself that if I were actually having a miscarriage I could have all those things I've been avoiding... coffee, a mocha, a hot bath. Now I'm here and those are pathetic consolation prizes. I didn't even miss stupid coffee, and the bath was just too hot anyway. I don't want those things. I want my baby.
My oldest daughter was so worried about me she asked my husband if I was going to die. I have to keep it together for the other kids, I know, and they do make it easier in many ways. This also changes how I feel about them, how I can truly grasp how precious they are; their lives are not a guarantee. This life is not a guarantee.
I can't actually imagine bearing this grief right now, and I simultaneously want to try again as soon as humanly possible and am terrified of trying again because I don't think I can go through this again. The pain of the loss, and all the subsequent stabbing reminders; reaching for the white towel, pausing, and grabbing the dark one. Taking my prenatal vitamin out of habit. All squeezes to the heart.
I was scared, as I always am (not just about miscarriage, but about everything, if I'm being honest) but still I celebrated. I ordered a few perfect maternity pieces (they have yet to arrive, which is hard for me to even think about right now). I called birth centers. I called my sister. We went to a hotel and I stayed out of the hot tub. I called one midwife and mentioned I was scared of miscarriage and she said "have you ever miscarried?" I said no. She said "oh then you probably won't." I was so reassured. I was so grateful. Maybe she still said the right thing. But I wish she hadn't said it now.
When the spotting started a couple days ago, I panicked, but was reassured by the advice nurse and my friends and my husband that it was normal. But it didn't feel normal. But again - I panic. I assume the worst. I don't want to set myself up only to fall that much farther. I'd rather be pleasantly surprised than devastated.
But it turns out that doesn't work. I am no less devastated. I had no idea the sadness could be this profound. I have always worried about miscarriage, but I had no idea what I was actually worrying about. This is beyond what I could have imagined.
Leading up to today, when I heard the results of the hcg test (21, devastatingly low for over 5 weeks) and subsequently started bleeding heavily, I attempted to comfort myself by telling myself that if I were actually having a miscarriage I could have all those things I've been avoiding... coffee, a mocha, a hot bath. Now I'm here and those are pathetic consolation prizes. I didn't even miss stupid coffee, and the bath was just too hot anyway. I don't want those things. I want my baby.
My oldest daughter was so worried about me she asked my husband if I was going to die. I have to keep it together for the other kids, I know, and they do make it easier in many ways. This also changes how I feel about them, how I can truly grasp how precious they are; their lives are not a guarantee. This life is not a guarantee.
I can't actually imagine bearing this grief right now, and I simultaneously want to try again as soon as humanly possible and am terrified of trying again because I don't think I can go through this again. The pain of the loss, and all the subsequent stabbing reminders; reaching for the white towel, pausing, and grabbing the dark one. Taking my prenatal vitamin out of habit. All squeezes to the heart.
That wasn't very realistic advice from the nurse. As sad as it is, most women will have a miscarriage at some point. I know she was just trying to reassure you and calm you down, but she built your hopes up which now it makes it that much harder to cope. Please don't be scared of trying again, you will get your rainbow baby eventually. Take care of yourself, we're all here for you. xxx
