The M Word

The M word.

The word many fear to utter, yet is more common than most think.

The word many women have experienced, yet few dare to mention.

The word many know exist, yet doubt it will happen to them.

Miscarriage.

25% of pregnancies end in miscarriage.

When including loss before a positive pregnancy test, it is said that 40% of pregnancies result in a miscarriage.

That's one in four known pregnancies. ONE in FOUR! 

About 75% of miscarriages take place during the first trimester.

 

There are over 4 million confirmed pregnancies each year and nearly 1 MILLION result in the loss of a pregnancy.
 

It is also said that most women with at least 2-3 children have probably had a miscarriage somewhere along the line.

The statistics are shocking. They're heartbreaking. They're real.

Having become very familiar with the blogging world and building friendships through social media, I've become very familiar, all too familiar, with the horrible reality and statistics that the ugly M word has brought to light. I've had friends that have lost their babies, both early and later in pregnancy. It has broken my heart every single time. However, I've never known what to say. How can you? A women just lost a child that was supposed to be hers. A child she was supposed to hold in her arms. A child that was (hopefully) conceived in love. A child that she already loved so deeply. A child that was a part of her. A child that was supposed to be a daughter - a son - a sibling.

I've never known what to say because I've never been there.

But the reality is, things have changed. I am now one of these women. One of the women that knows firsthand how common miscarriage is. Yet, never expected to be here.

Now, here I am. Grieving. Crying. Confused. Sad. 

Here I am, recovering and still healing from what was hands down the hardest part of my life. I miscarried our baby. We found out on December 11, 2013 that I was pregnant. We were thrilled. We felt lucky. It was very easy for us to conceive Ellie and again with this baby. Yet, little did we know what was to come. I immediately felt a couple symptoms (starving and overly exhausted all.day.long), but they went away after a week or two. I was worried, yet remained optimistic, hoping (praying -- practically begging and pleading that) I was one of those women that just didn't get any symptoms. Yet, secretly wishing - hoping - praying I'd get morning sickness. Something, anything! to let me know everything was okay. 

We went to our first appointment at what would have been 6 weeks 2 days, yet I was only measuring about 6 weeks and my OB couldn't find the heartbeat. However, we were able to see the yolk sak and fetal pole, all beginning stages of a pregnancy. He said not to be alarmed, that this is common at 6 weeks. Those of you that know me, know that I couldn't NOT be alarmed. I was worried. Terrified. We scheduled a follow up for 8 weeks. I left hesitant, sad, and knowing something wasn't right. The next week inched on by, slower than slow. I finally called and had them squeeze me in sooner. We went back on January 9th at what should have been 7 weeks 5 days. Sure enough, I knew immediately upon seeing the ultrasound screen.
There still wasn't a heartbeat.

Cue the floodgates. 

We were given several options since this was considered a missed miscarriage. I could wait for things to happen naturally, although who knew how long that would take. I could take a pill to push the process along, but I've heard nothing but horror stories with this method. The final option was surgery. We went ahead and scheduled my surgery for that next day. I struggled. We struggled. What else were we supposed to do?

We were heartbroken. We spent that night cuddled up, soaking up every ounce of Ellie that we could. We'd sit in silence for a while, then the tears would return. We'd talk about it some more. Over analyzing, sad, yet trying to remain optimistic that we'd be oh so fortunate to get another positive pregnancy test later down the line. That night and the next day were by far the two worst days of my life. I've never cried so hard. I've never been so consumed with a single thought. It was horrible.

January 10th will forever be etched in my brain as the worst day of my life.

That being said, I couldn't have asked for a better support system. Although just as equally distraught, JP was my rock through the whole experience. We told very few people about the pregnancy, waiting to hear the heartbeat to tell more distant family and friends. However, those that did know (our parents and a couple of our closest friends) were beyond amazing. They were so incredibly understanding and supportive. The calls, the messages, flowers, gifts, and more were more than we could have asked for. So not only did we have each other, we had the people that are closest to us there with us. They were affected too.

I've gone back and forth on whether or not I wanted to share this post. In fact, when originally written just a few weeks after the fact, I wasn't sure it would ever be shared. It was more of a coping mechanism at the time. That being said, I sat down several times, stared at a blank screen, wrote far too much, then deleted every single word.

Am I ready to share this news with the world? Am I ready to face the comments and questions that could potentially arise? Am I ready to be more vulnerable than I've ever been? Probably not.

But with the support of my husband, I've decided to share our story.

Because the reality is, miscarriage is real. It happens to real women. It happens to women that you'd least expect it to. Healthy women. Young women. Women already with children. Women without. I think there is a poorly portrayed view in our society in which some believe a woman that's gone through miscarriage must have made a mistake. She wasn't healthy. She did something wrong. Something was wrong with her body. She should have been able to prevent it. But the reality is, that is not true. When a miscarriage happens this early in a pregnancy, there isn't anything you can do to prevent it. You didn't do anything wrong. My OB said it's due to a genetic abnormality in either the sperm or the egg. It's hard not to blame ourselves, which is why I think society jumps to the same conclusion. However, that just isn't the case.

I'll be honest, I still have to remind myself of this. Daily.

Deciding to be open about my miscarriage is part of the healing process for me. Not that I want it to be table talk and on everyone's plate for discussion over their morning coffee, I just want to feel comfortable in the reality that I have faced. I don't want to feel ashamed or have to hide and grieve in silence. I need support. What would have been my due date, August 23, is now only 5 days away and all of my emotions have come flooding back. It's tough. I need my friends and family to understand. I don't want to spend hours talking about it, but it's a part of me now. Talking about it, to some extent, is an outlet. I realized that I was struggling more when attempting to bottle this up inside of me. I've lost a piece of my heart and I'll never be able to forget our little angel baby.
So, here I am, sharing my story.

I want people to know.
While he/she may not be here on Earth, I don't want to forget.

I wish more women were comfortable and didn't feel the need to grieve alone. I wish they didn't feel the need to hide in secret. It's nothing to be ashamed of.

This is real. It happens to real women. It happened to me.

I'm now about 23.5 weeks pregnant and while that's a wonderful feeling and we are SO incredibly grateful for this peanut, we still think about our baby that we lost. Some days are harder than others, but just because we're once again pregnant, doesn't mean the grieving is over.

I'm still sad. Still grieving.
But I want other women to have hope.

We are so exited for this third little miracle on her way.
Another little one to love and kiss and snuggle. WE ARE THANKFUL.

For those that have also experienced miscarriage, know that you are NOT alone. I know it's a sensitive subject, but it's not one that you need to be ashamed of or hide from the world. Be grateful for the time you had and remember that you now have a little angel babe watching down over you.