One in four pregnancies ends in loss. Mine did.
Today being the day I was supposed to give birth I want to share some love and thoughts for those who have experienced a miscarriage like I did. It’s easy to believe the pain would be restricted to the loss of the child. It is not. And it’s been tugging at my heart to share. So here we go, a classical drama in five acts.
I Prelude or, Technicalities
One in four pregnancies ends in loss. The risk of child loss increases with the woman’s age, the most significant risk factor. Health factors of both partners can play a role, as well as genetics or stressors. Of course you wonder why pregnancy loss happened to you and if you could have done anything to prevent it. But the truth is there is no possible way to change the outcome.
Pregnancy loss is in no way your fault.
It’s bizarre how common it is and yet how little we speak of it. Hence, I didn’t give it much thought. I understand how we are cautioned to keep quiet in the early weeks of pregnancy as it does take the pressure off to go through a long list of people to contact when you realise that journey ends sooner than everyone has expected. Not talking about the loss though…
Over 80 percent of people experienced anxiety or depression after loss. Over 50 percent of people experienced feelings of isolation after loss.
There’s a bunch of things that we don’t talk about in society about women’s bodies and that silence has very real consequences like feelings of shame, guilt and inadequacy. We should go and change that.
II … while it lasted
My desire to become pregnant did not, like for many other women, take years of dreaming and planning. I never really wanted children until it rather grew out of a relationship in which we both dreamt of sharing our lives as a family. With kids and dog and all the kitschy stuff that I didn’t quite believe in for most of my life. It seemed like the obvious happy thing to do. So when I found out I was pregnant, there was no exuberant joy but rather a deep happiness for how good life would become. There was also pride and curiosity, impatience of when a bump would show, anticipation to feeling a tiny person grow inside me. And joy that my body was strong enough to create new life. I mean, how immensely mind blowing a thought is that!!
The bonding with the baby begins the second you get that double line on the pregnancy test. So somehow even early on in a pregnancy, the heartache of loss is real. 12 weeks is just long enough for the embryo to develop fully in a tiny tissue with eyes and fingers and spine and brain and then wait for it to grow (basically). 12 weeks was just long enough for me to have decided on a name, to have gotten involved in baby things, reading about stages of child development, imagining how we would help the little one explore the world and grow their love for all the good stuff in life. It was enough time to imagine how warmth and love would just be there because of that little person.
For weeks I had been told the embryo was there. I’d seen it. Smaller than it should be but there, and with a tiny, feeble heart beating. My pants stopped fitting, I turned to loose summer dresses and loved my growing bump to pieces. But that magic glow began to slowly fade and that invincible feeling when life grows inside of you became weaker.
III Desolation
I miscarried at 12 weeks along, alone at home. It still sinks my stomach to think about the pain.
When bleeding started on a Saturday, I knew. It’s hard to describe how I managed to ignore it and at the same time know what was happening. So I carried on with daily business and campaigning for my friend. What else was there to be done? On Sunday evening cramps set in, sharp pain piercing through my lower body. I started googling miscarriage symptoms, checking off all the bullet points on lists that help you figure out if you’re actually experiencing what you’re experiencing.
M was not there. I sent messages, telling him about the cramps and the bleeding. About losing our child. He chose to stay away.
***Cut to me driving myself to the hospital for an emergency check.
***Cut to me at the doctor’s surgery, seeing the ultrasound and in a split second, before the doctor could breathe to say those two words “no heartbeat”, I knew.
That picture… 💔
***Cut to five days of searing pain later when finally the tissue was gone.
Something clicks inside your soul knowing you’ve been walking around almost a week with your dead baby inside. For a while I drowned in that abyss.
IV It ain’t over til it’s over
I wasn’t prepared for how pregnant I would still feel after the pregnancy technically terminated. My breasts were still big, the bump didn’t recede fully for another six weeks so my pants wouldn’t fit and every day I was reminded of what was gone. It is cruel that our bodies don’t let us forget.
Also being trapped in google’s algorithms doesn’t help, because there’s ads for all the baby stuff I searched the internet for. Even months later I get advertisement for nursing bras.
And that pain. At least there’s pills for the physical pain and for ten days or so they helped me merely survive on my sofa. Mostly alone. I would lie there, listening to the pain in my abdomen, praying for the embryo to just go away. For a month I was knocked out, barely able to make it out of bed. And somehow that’s normal. Physical recovery lasts long beyond the actual loss. It can take months and emotional recovery can take a lifetime.
The worst part was the hope that was crushed. The grief took my breath away for weeks. Grief and disbelief over how M could have chosen to leave me alone. After all, it was his child too.
V Onward to good things
I thought I had words for my loss a month after it happened or so. But here we are, the length of a pregnancy later, I still don’t. But we share when we’re ready and I guess I’d rather share imperfectly than not at all.
I’m exhausted by strength. I want support, I want softness, I want ease. I want laughter and life. I want to be amongst warm, friendly people. I want to feel safe. Not want to be patted on the back for how well I took that hit.
So I went out again pretty quickly, dragged out by friends, and found a true happy place. And met someone who riddles me, who makes me smile, who seems to care and who is good with my dog. Someone who I cannot wrap my head around and I’m standing in awe in front of his giggle with butterflies in my tummy and pretty few words in my head which presumably makes me appear rather daft.
How lucky I am to have met souls who helped me heal by just being there and taking care of me without even knowing what good they were doing. These funny, loving, cheeky and tender humans pulled me through and I cannot express my gratitude enough.
I guess it’s okay now. Not being a mother, not living that family life, but having the earth‘s cutest fluff ball cuddling next to me and the most wonderful friends near and far who are undeterred in their love and support whenever a cloud of sadness drifts along.
I have grieved the loss of life, of opportunity, of love and trust. I might be tired, but I’m not out yet. There’s that breeze of confidence, so let’s bring on what’s next in life and fill that heart with laughter ♥️
Will you join me?
nischenfrettchen 