My Missed Miscarriage Story

Several times I have attempted to write out my story and the words evade me. Giving advice on how to cope and how to support comes easy. However, sharing my personal story deems itself challenging yet therapeutic. 

Every individual’s journey is uniquely their own, and I’d be honored to offer support if you’d like to share your story with me. Here’s a personal recounting of my journey:

Eleven weeks 

At eleven weeks, I excitedly entered the doctor’s office, knowing I’d get to hear my baby’s heartbeat during this appointment. This was the soonest appointment I could book and I decided to go alone due to is usual routine nature. As I waited for my name to be called, I pondered the times I had been here before. I also anxiously researched ways to tell my job that I was expecting again as they had been less than thrilled the last time.

This pregnancy was different than my last because I escaped the debilitating morning sickness I had with my first daughter. Conception was achieved in one month rather than the six months it took to conceive my daughter. And there was none of that scary implantation bleeding I had with my previous pregnancy. So far, this pregnancy was turning out to be a piece of cake. 

Finally, my name was called. The medical assistant went through the routine exam; getting my weight, height, and asking a plethora of questions. After some more waiting, I met with my doctor. We chatted about this pregnancy and whether I’d opt for a c section or VBAC (vaginal birth after c section.) We even discussed gender. I guessed that this was certainly a boy due to my lack of symptoms. Jack was the name we had picked for a boy name for my last pregnancy, so that is the name I held onto in my head.

Fast forward to the sequence of events that happened when the doctor attempted to use the Doppler to hear the heartbeat. No heartbeat was detected but the doctor reassured me that was normal as he rolled in the ultrasound machine. At this point, I felt calm as a cucumber, not knowing the path ahead.

The News

As he scanned my abdomen, I watched my normally nonchalant doctor take in a deep breath. In the next moment, my world changed. 

With his exhale, he stated that there was  no embryo inside of the gestational sac. This is commonly referred to as a blighted ovum or an anembryonic pregnancy. In an instant, the baby that we had loved for the past several weeks was no more. 

The next steps

After my doctor told me the news, I was rushed upstairs for an early ultrasound. In another post, I explain my experience with an early ultrasound as I have now had three. 

Looking back, my only personal regret during this experience was not asking that someone come with me to the ultrasound. I had gone to this appointment alone thinking it wouldn’t be all that exciting and in an instant, I was all alone to cry quietly in the elevator in search of the radiology department. I should have spoken up and requested someone walk with me to the department or maybe it should have been offered.

Although I have another post detailing my experience with early ultrasounds, I will share some of that here, too. First the radiology technician did an ultrasound much like the one my doctor did and then a transvaginal ultrasound. This sounds painful, but it is just slightly uncomfortable. The entire time, I cried quietly. The tech kept asking if I was ok, to which I’d just shake my head yes, even though that was so far from the truth.

The early ultrasound confirmed my worst fears and my doctor shared my options as I silently wept. I chose to have a dilation and curettage (D&C.) You can also read more about my experience with a D&C in this blog post. 

My Choices

When I discussed my options with my doctor, he presented several alternatives. One option was taking a pill designed to induce a miscarriage. Another option was to wait and see if a natural miscarriage occurred on its own.

Waiting was risky because the longer I waited, the more my risk of infection increased. Risk of infection could result in loss of fertility or even death. The closer I was to the second trimester, the more risky waiting would be.

The idea of taking the pill felt overwhelming, as it would involve managing heavy bleeding at home. Mentally and physically, I did not think I could handle that as well as chasing around my then two year old.

Ultimately, a D&C procedure seemed like the best choice for me at this point in time. It meant going in for a procedure and being healed in about a day (or so I thought.) Physically, yes, I was healed in about a day. Mentally, took a lot more time and effort.

Of course, everyone’s situation varies and there may be alternate choices or a different best choice for your situation. As we are all unique in our stories, so are our choices as they fit into our lives. Discuss your options with your physician and ask any medical questions directly to them as well. They can also offer information on support groups in your area as well as any other programs and resources available.

Sharing My Story

Since I went to this appointment alone, that meant I had to tell the people in my life. Telling everyone was like reliving all of the events all over again. The most difficult to tell was my husband because felt as if it was my fault this happened. A miscarriage is very rarely the mom’s fault. It’s usually just something that happens that couldn’t be prevented. My husband was supportive and knew there was nothing either of us could have done to prevent this outcome.

In the beginning, I chose to only tell a few select people and then expanded who I told as time went on. My story got easier to tell and felt better to explain the further from it I got. Everyone seemed to have a different and sometimes alarming reaction.

Never feel like you owe anyone an explanation. If you aren’t comfortable sharing the news yet or ever, then don’t. This is a very personal journey that everyone navigates differently, there is no one right way to work through it.

The now

After having a D&C I was positive I wanted to try again as soon as possible. I felt saddened by the events but still excited for the prospect of another baby. I thought I could replace my pain with hope for the future. After several months (about seven months), our dream of expanding our family finally came into fruition. However, my pain was not gone. 

Those seven months were excruciating. I watched as it seemed like the rest of the world just moved on. I was angry and sad. “Why me?” I thought on a consistent basis. Sometimes I think that everything happens for a reason but then I remember that some really bad things happen every day. Now I think, maybe, certain things happen for a reason. Perhaps I went through this so I could help others through similar. Whatever the reason (if any) I know that some have it a lot worse. I would beat myself up over that as well, and I’m here to tell you to just let yourself grieve. Don’t compare your story to others.

When we did finally conceive, replaced by the emptiness was an anxiousness throughout my pregnancy. And although I love my rainbow baby, having another baby is not what healed my heart. She is unique in her own way, and I actually don’t like tying her too closely to this experience because it was painful and she is independent of that. What helps me heal every day is taking care of my mental and physical health and the knowledge that I might be able to help just one other person going through something similar. 

Final Thoughts 

Writing and sharing my story has been a profoundly therapeutic journey, and it could be for you as well. If you’ve found yourself here, chances are you have a story waiting to be told. I encourage you to take that step—write your story from the very beginning to where you are now. Whether you choose to share it with someone, like me, or keep it private, putting it into words can be a transformative experience. Start today, and discover the power of storytelling to heal and inspire.

Are you in the process of healing? How can I help? For more information on miscarriage, please see the miscarriage section on this blog. To speak to me personally, please email me at [email protected]. You should not have to go through this alone and I would love to be part of your support system.