“Had I not naturally miscarried, I would have held on to some hope that my appointment would have gone differently…”
At Motherlift we want to tell stories that inspire, educate, and remind you: you aren’t the only one. We want to allow women to share honestly about their experiences without all the fear and anxiety we usually find on the internet. We will be posting stories of joy, anticipation, surprise, grief, endurance, and most of all, strength. Consider this blog a place to listen to a friend’s experience of motherhood.
Today we’re going to hear from LoriAnn about her experience with a miscarriage. It’s a topic that not a lot of people discuss openly. You might find this difficult to read. You might remember your own experience with miscarriage. You might find fear seeping in even as you read that word: miscarriage.
We believe there is freedom in hearing stories and having our stories heard.
We also believe that in the end we all have the ability to find hope and strength we didn’t know we had.
Wherever you find yourself today, we encourage you to quiet yourself to read this story with an open heart, leaving fear at the door.
LoriAnn’s thoughtful story is one of endurance, hope and growth.
Many people don’t know about the miscarriage process. Would you mind sharing a little about what happens when you miscarry?I found out I was pregnant with my angel baby at the end of June 2017. I would have been due on March 4th, 2018. I felt so different than I did with Rosalie. I felt pregnant right away with her, and this time I just felt tired. We had a successful dating ultrasound, in which a heartbeat was detected, but the baby was measuring small, so we had to go back about two weeks later to confirm due date. I felt like this was a bad sign because I knew the exact date I got pregnant, and there was no way this happened an entire week or 8 days later. I woke up on July 20th and felt funny — not sick, but I just didn’t feel right. Rosalie and I stayed home that day and relaxed. It was about 5pm when I saw blood in my underwear. I panicked. I called my husband, Dave, who was on his way home anyway. I called the on call doctor, who said whether it’s a miscarriage or break through bleeding, she wanted me to come in the next day for a Rhogam shot because I am Rh negative. She also said that they would be able to confirm whether or not I had actually miscarried.
The next day, my husband was so sure that nothing was wrong, even though I couldn’t shake the feeling that we’d get awful news. He went to work, but I didn’t want to go to the doctor alone. My very close friend, Laurel, came with me. While she was in the waiting room with Rosalie, my regular doctor (the one that took care of me when I was pregnant with Rosalie) did an ultrasound and said that she didn’t see a heartbeat. I was so devastated. I called my husband and told him the news. He refused to believe it. He said we had seen the heartbeat just the week before. My doctor said the chances of anything changing were slim, but she agreed to keep my original appointment that would have been for the dating scan on the next Wednesday to confirm whether or not this was indeed a miscarriage.
Over the weekend, the bleeding got heavier and heavier. On Sunday, I passed a large clot, about the size of my fist, that was my baby. The bleeding continued for another 10 days. I was actually very relieved to miscarry naturally. It was like my body gave me the answer, that this pregnancy was over. Had I not naturally miscarried, I would have held on to some hope that my appointment would have gone differently on Wednesday. Instead, I told my doctor that I was almost sure that I had expelled the pregnancy, which she confirmed. She said we could begin trying for another child as soon as I stopped bleeding and as soon as we felt emotionally ready.
What is one meaningful thing someone said during your experience with a miscarriage?
The most meaningful thing that stands out to me still is when I called the on-call doctor when I was miscarrying. I had just passed the large clot that was baby, and I called to make sure this was normal.
She did everything a doctor should — basically take care of me medically, even if it was over the phone. However, before we got off the phone, she said “I’m sorry for your loss.” I know many people call a miscarriage a loss, as in they will say “I lost a pregnancy” but, we also say “I’m sorry for your loss” when a person that has walked this earth passes away. The way she phrased it made me realize (in a good way) that I didn’t just lose a pregnancy. I lost a life. And I was allowed to mourn for that too. It was only 5 words, but it really meant so much to me at the time.
Whatever happened in your pregnancy is not a reflection of you as a woman or a mother.
Do you feel like you were able to, or needed to, grieve the loss of your angel baby?
I was able to grieve the loss of my angel baby. I did get a tattoo, and I bought several pieces of jewelry to commemorate my angel. I also honor my angel every year on October 15th, which is the National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day.
What is one thing you think women should remember as they’re grieving in miscarriage?
