There are things that happen that immediately and unknowingly thrust you into a new stage of your life. There is the You before it happened, and the You after it happened. For me, my life changed almost one month ago exactly.
The Sunday after Thanksgiving, I had a miscarriage.
I didn't know I was pregnant.
I wasn't sure whether or not I wanted to write about this. However, one of the few people I told suggested that I do so, as there are so many women who have lost pregnancies that feel isolated and alone and confused because it is not something often talked about out loud. I also thought back to when I wrote about my PolyCystic Ovarian Syndrome and how afterwards I had quite a few people reach out to me and thank me for making them feel like it was ok to talk about their own struggles with infertility and all of the other undesirable afflictions that come along with PCOS.
So I'm writing about this. I feel nervous and I'm shaking a little bit as I type but if I can help even one person through this, it will be worth it.
For the past fifteen years, I have been told that I will probably have a difficult time getting pregnant naturally, and would most likely have to turn to fertility treatments. This made me sad as anyone who knows me knows that my only desire in life is to be a mother. I don't have many great things in my life, but just the knowledge that one day- no matter what and no matter how long it takes- I will have a child, is enough motivation for me to keep plugging through each minute, hour, day, and year.
Throughout the month of November, I knew that I hadn't been feeling well, but I just chalked it up to particularly vicious PMS, which I usually experience for the better part of 2-3 weeks (ah the joys of having a constantly delayed cycle). One thing that really stood out to me was how much my breasts hurt. Every gal can get a little tender before their time of the month, but this was weeks of mind numbing pain and sensitivity and gradual growth. Normally, I would be thrilled to have reached almost a B cup from my normal AA/A, but this was too painful to find any joy in.
I was falling asleep at the drop of a hat at any given time during the day. My back and sciatica were on fire. I had insane hot flashes and would gag out of nowhere.
I also noticed that smells were getting to me more than normal, and food and drinks tasted off. Now, I'm a smart girl and I know well and good that these are all symptoms of pregnancy. But I have also experienced all of these things before as part of my PMS, albeit to a much lesser degree. There was a part of me that considered taking a pregnancy test, but a much larger part of me knew how sad I have felt in the past when I've taken one and it has come up negative.
To be clear, I have never actively tried to get pregnant. Girls know that we've all taken tests over the years, and most of the time we're happy when they're negative, but over the past 5-7 years it became very clear to me that I would be more happy than not if I were to find out I was pregnant.
November trudged on and two girls I know announced their pregnancies. A very small, very quiet voice in the back of my head said, "Me too".
The day after Thanksgiving I was backing out of my parents' driveway and felt my car tap something.
"It's not trash day, why do their neighbors have their trash cans out?" was the first thought that went through my very fuzzy, very confused brain. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw not trash cans, but the neighbor's car. I was shocked as I have never, ever even come close to hitting anything with my car or being in any kind of accident. Without tooting my own horn (unintended car pun!), I'm an exceptionally good driver, so this situation completely baffled me. (Luckily, the neighbors could have cared less about the whole thing and were super great about it). It was like my ability to think rationally had completely turned itself off; it felt like I was a visitor in another body.
I'm going to try to keep this next part of the story as least graphic as possible. However, please understand that there are some things that I must mention.
Two days later, on Sunday, I woke up and ate breakfast and started my day like any other. I noticed a little spotting and thought, "Thank god, my period is about to start and I can finally feel like a human again". This thought was very quickly followed by the most ferocious, brain splitting, out of body pain I have ever experienced. I am a tough girl when it comes to pain and I can handle a lot; but this was on a whole other level. It felt similar to over the summer when I had an ovarian cyst burst, but that pain was more centralized to one region. This pain shot through every nerve in my body. I curled up in the fetal position in my bed and tried to focus on anything but the pain. This proved futile. I felt a very strong pressure around my pelvis and staggered my way to the bathroom, stopping every few feet to grab onto something and let out a soft, almost silent scream, as even straining my vocal chords caused pain. Once in the bathroom I bled. I bled more than I thought was possible, and I continue to bleed for the next 30 hours.
I knew something was different about what was happening. This was not just the worst period ever. But then again, maybe it was. Maybe I was reading too much into things. Or, maybe I was in denial. Because as the hours rolled on, the only thought I had in my head was,
"No. This is not what I think it is. I am not having a miscarriage, and I am certainly not having a miscarriage all alone in my little apartment".
The rest of that day consisted of continued trips from my bed to the bathroom. I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, my poor dog could sense something was wrong with me and held his bladder like a champ. I tried Advil, I tried a heating pad, I tried laying in different positions. Occasionally the pain would subside a couple of notches for a minute or two, but no sooner had it stopped than it would start back up again. My back felt like there was an axe in it and there were other strange things that happened that I will spare you all from.
The one thing I did notice was that the moment I started bleeding, the pain in my breasts went away. It was the only bit of relief that I felt that day.
During this time, I decided to keep a detailed list of everything that was happening, as well as how I had been feeling in the weeks prior.
The next day I got up and went to work. I was still bleeding and still in pain, but it was more manageable. I texted the person that would have been the father and said to him, "This might sound crazy, but there was a part of me yesterday that thought I was having a miscarriage". He was concerned and told me to keep him posted. I told myself that as long as there was still blood the next day, I would have nothing to worry about, and this had in fact just been the worst period of all time.
The following day, the bleeding stopped.
I saw the father that day and told him. "Let's talk", he said.
Quick note: This is a man who has been in my life for awhile and who I have an unyielding supply of care and respect and love for. At times he has been my best friend, at times he has been my boyfriend, and at times he has felt like a stranger. But he is someone who always has been and always will be very important to me, regardless of what role he plays in my life. Because of this, he knows me probably better than anyone. He knows my moods, he knows my quirks, he knows my physical ailments, he knows my mind and my heart.
We sat down on my couch and I told him what had been happening over the past couple of days. He then said something to me that I was not expecting at all:
"To be honest, over the past couple of weeks, I thought to myself, 'Alexis is pregnant'".
He went on to explain how I apparently had been acting quite differently over the past couple of weeks. As he said them out loud- I have to admit- they all checked out. Things that I hadn't even realized myself until he pointed them out. Yes, I had been extra moody. Yes, I had been eating everything in sight at all hours of the day and night. Confirmation from someone who knows every iota of me, and who also has kids himself and is well versed in pregnant women, gave me an overwhelming sense of relief that I was not crazy for thinking that I had miscarried.
Then he asked me if it was a boy or a girl.
"How would I know?" I asked him.
"You were a mother for that small amount of time. You know".
I did know. I knew for sure whether I was going to have a son or a daughter. But I'm going to keep that between the father and myself.
I called my GYN's office to make an appointment to get checked out. It took an unacceptable amount of time (days, in fact) for them to get back to me, as they had "mislabeled" my voicemail. That made me feel less bad about leaving increasingly angry voicemails on every single extension in their office. Sorry billing department, but now you know about the vaginal house of horrors I just experienced.
For the sake of time, I'll skip the details of the conversation I had with the nurse on the phone, and other things that happened during that time. The bottom line is, I went to my doctor, pulled out the list I had kept during the worst of it, and by the end of the appointment my doctor confirmed my suspicions.
My first feeling was a sense of relief. I had been able to get pregnant. Naturally. I never, ever thought that would happen. My second feeling was numbness. Why wasn't I sad? Why didn't I feel like I was mourning correctly? Next came anger. I had missed my first pregnancy. I had finally conceived a child- the only thing in the world I have ever wanted- and I missed it. I will never again have the chance to enjoy being pregnant for the first time. Yes, I realize that having a miscarriage after knowing you're expecting is excruciating. But still, I felt gipped.
Next came the depression. The father has been so wonderful and has really encouraged me to talk to him about how I'm feeling. The thing is, I don't know how I'm feeling. I somehow feel love for a baby that I never knew and never will know. I feel like I'm a completely different person because even though it was just for a moment, I was a parent. I'm scared that I will miscarry every baby I become pregnant with. I'm scared that I will never get pregnant again.
I want nobody to know and I want everybody to know. In the month since it has happened, I feel like a fraud saying "I'm ok" or "Oh, same old same old" every time someone asks me how I am or what's been going on. But I also don't want to tell them what happened. How do you even say it? I personally know 6 women who have had miscarriages, and it always seems to be information you tell someone in hushed tones.
I found this article which gives three different accounts of miscarriages, and I found them both comforting, informative, and relatable:
https://cupofjo.com/2015/11/miscarriage-stories/
One of the women refers to her miscarriage as a "secret sadness", which I think is a perfect way to describe it. You're going through life holding in this new aspect of your being. It's not something you should be ashamed of, but it's not something you feel that you can let people know about. Every woman and every partner- whether it's her husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, best friend, or just somebody she happened to get pregnant by- will handle things differently and feel differently, but the bottom line is the same. We have experienced a loss. Some days we will want to talk about it and some days we won't. Some days we'll be happy and some days we'll be sad. Or angry. Or confused. I know it has only been 28 days for me since I lost my baby, but every minute is a guessing game of how I will feel.
Writing this entry is both my way of personally coping, and also hoping to reach others who may have experienced a miscarriage as well. To those people, I am so sorry and please know that I am here for you. Even if you're a stranger on the other side of the country, I am here for you.
One thing I do ask is that if anyone has any questions or comments about what I have just written, while I am more than happy to engage, please do not ask the father anything. He knows I am writing this, but he did not sign on for a question and answer session. He and I are supporting each other privately and in our own way, but as I said, if you do have any questions direct them to me and I will be more than happy to talk about them.
Also, I want to send out a general apology to my family and friends. I'm sorry if you called me or texted me and I either didn't answer, or was short and general in my response. If we were supposed to hang out and I left early or canceled altogether, I'm sorry. If you told me good news and I seemed only generically enthused, I'm sorry. I'm sorry if you are about to get engaged or married or pregnant or get a promotion at work or buy a big house with a white picket fence or win the lottery. I can't be happy for you right now. In time, I will be. But right now, I'm so sorry, I just don't have that emotion to give. I'm still trying to work out how to handle the rest of the world while simultaneously trying to grasp what has happened in my own.
I hope everything I just wrote has been okay. I hope I haven't offended anyone by being so candid about a somewhat taboo subject. I hope I didn't gross anyone out by the details. But mostly, I hope that one day I can wake up to the sounds of a happy, healthy baby.
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