***It was particularly difficult for me to lose a baby, to have a miscarriage … even if I was “only” six weeks pregnant. It is also hard for me to talk about it. However, I decided to share my experience with you because writing helped me move on.
When I learned what had happened, I was overwhelmed with emotions. I was sad, angry, exhausted, and I would have liked to know that I was not the only one. That, unfortunately, it happens, and more often than we think.***
Everything started one Saturday morning. I have stomach cramps; the kind you get before your period starts. That checks out, my period is supposed to start that day. Then Sunday comes, and I still don’t feel so good. Headache, stomachache: aches galore, basically.
I think to myself that it’s just going to be “a big one”, nothing more. Then Monday comes, my period lasts all of 15 minutes and then the fatigue kicks in. And by fatigue I really mean I’m extremely tired. I’ve never been tired like that before in my life, even while jet lag after a long trip.
So I just go on with my life without really thinking twice about it.
THE WEEK GOES ON
I really don’t feel well, I have the impression I could throw up at any time (though I don’t), I’m tired and I still have stomach pains. That’s when I tell myself that I’ll wait a few days before taking a pregnancy test. You know, just in case my period starts (because it costs $15 just for some test! #I’mKindOfCheap #Lol), but it seems like I will have to take one anyway.
In the night of Saturday to Sunday, I can barely sleep I’m so nervous. When I get up the next morning, I can’t take the suspense anymore. I want to know what’s going on with my body. So I take the test.
And then, a second faint line appears. I look at it and think what a tease that line! Is this thing positive or negative? #GirlWhoKnowsNothing haha
Of course, I go and read about pregnancy test results on every forum I can find online. And the mums there say that a second line, whether it’s tiny, average or bright and clear, counts as a line!
Ok then, there we have it. I’m pregnant.
So, I’m just sitting there on the toilet, looking at the pregnancy test, thinking: what do I do now?!
I bring up the subject to my boyfriend, all while weighing my words. I don’t show him the test right away, because he’ll think I’m crazy when he sees the size of the line-that’s-not-a-line-but-that-is-one-anyway! #lol
And so the week goes on, with many other tests, each more positive than the last. That’s when I think that the little being inside me is there to stay. Naturally, I rush to show the first test to my boyfriend so he can see for himself what I had told him about.
We start counting the months, imagining what life at three will be like. The little family we have been dreaming of.
It is at our fingertips; we will have it all in a few months.
THEN THE RED
A few days later, I go to the bathroom. And it happens. It’s red, which is not fun at all, rather nerve-racking. I. Don’t. Know. What. To. Think. Anymore.
Not a lot, but enough to get worried.
I check the Internet again. For the most part, it says don’t worry about it, but 50% of miscarriages start with bleeding. OH CRAP.
The spotting stops during the day. So the morning after I take another test to make sure I’m on the good side of the 50%. It’s still positive.
THE HEARTLESS DOCTOR AND THE CHEMICAL PREGNANCY
On the Wednesday morning, when I decide to make a trip to the doctor’s office, I’m still bleeding here and there. I pee in a little jar, then I meet the doctor.
It’s negative. I am told that I had a chemical pregnancy. It hurts. And I don’t know what hurts the most: the way the doctor breaks the news to me or the fact that I lost the baby.
Because my time spent with the doctor was one of the most traumatizing moments I’ve been through. For her, it was just another routine day, yet another chemical pregnancy … like, “just get over it”.
But it was more than that for me, as it is for all mothers who, like me, carried life inside them to finally receive the same news I did.
During the 2 weeks that followed that first positive test that told me I was carrying life inside me, I was so full of hopes and dreams. And now it’s over. Something had happened inside me. Something that hadn’t taken 9 months to build, but that came pretty close. I am really sad.
POST MORTEM, POSTPARTUM… WITHOUT A CHILD
Finding out that there’s a little human being growing inside you is the best feeling in the world. And then someone threw the news in my face without a care, as if they were telling me it was going to rain today…
Of course, the doctor told me it happens to many women. But why me? Why this little baby? Why on my first time? Why?
There are so many “why’s” that go unanswered. And so many answers that don’t make sense.
So what do we do now? Do we try again right away, or do we put the project on the back burner the time we heal? … From the shock.
Here I thought I would be part of the Mums Club. I was excited to become a parent this winter.
Time will heal things, but for now it is still quite painful.
I send my thoughts out to all the mothers who have been in this situation. It’s not easy. Why us?
It’s hard to find comfort in such a situation. There will never be a right way to learn the news, to soothe ourselves and to move on. There are no magic words that can make the pain go away.
There’s nothing to do really, it’s just a crappy situation. You have to get through it, even though you would have preferred not experiencing it at all.
I hope that these steps life is making me go through before becoming a parent will make me appreciate it even more when it finally happens. That they will shape me for my future. And I keep praying that it is simply due to an extra chromosome, as Google has been telling me. I hope that tomorrow the sun will rise and that my life will go back to normal.
You have to learn to live with the loss of a little human being that you would have loved and cuddled so much. You have to focus on the future, which is not an easy task. I am thinking of you, all the mums out there. I am thinking of myself.
And just know that I’m not mad at you, the mum who posts photos of your baby daily. I think it’s beautiful. Kiss your kids; you were lucky enough to carry them and to see them grow.
I just hope one day I will be as lucky as you are. xx
This post was translated from French to English by:
Isabelle, 24 years old. I’m an easy-going girl; quick-witted and a devoted fan of puns. As much as I enjoy staying home binge-watching series and reading novels, I also love traveling and discovering new things.