Everything Changed the Day I Lost My Baby Girl

Photo Credit: Carly Black

I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, Mia Michelle, in the spring. Before I shared with anyone, I felt this immediate love.

From the very beginning, this pregnancy felt different.

The nausea was nonstop. The exhaustion was overwhelming. And even with all the symptoms, every appointment looked fine.

Her heartbeat was strong. She measured exactly how she should. Nothing in the ultrasound ever suggested anything was wrong.

We had our next appointment scheduled for the following week — the one that would mark 13 weeks. I finally felt like we were approaching that point when people start to breathe a little easier.

But at 12 weeks and 5 days, everything changed.

I woke up feeling off in a way that didn’t match the usual pregnancy symptoms. Not the nausea or the fatigue I’d gotten used to — this was something deeper, something unsettling.

My whole body felt wrong. 

Things escalated quickly from there.

The discomfort turned into pain.

The fear in my body grew.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

By the time I got to the hospital, the shift was immediate. Nurses began moving quickly. Doctors asked rapid questions. Machines were pulled in. The energy in the room told me the truth before anyone spoke it.

And then they said the words that changed everything:

There is no longer an active pregnancy.

Just days before our next appointment.

Just days after everything had looked perfect.

There was nothing to prepare me for that moment — nothing from the symptoms, nothing from the ultrasound, nothing from any appointment. One day she was alive. The next she wasn’t.

And then, almost immediately, another truth hit me:

Not only had Mia passed, but my own life was suddenly at risk too.

My body was losing blood quickly. I went from being a pregnant mom waiting for her 13-week appointment, to finally be here so she could tell her boys, to a patient in real medical danger within hours.

Losing Mia was heartbreaking.

Realizing I might not survive was terrifying in a completely different way.

No one prepares you for the possibility of losing your baby and nearly losing your own life in the same day. It creates a kind of trauma that lives in your body long after the moment passes. You don’t walk out of the hospital the same person who walked in but I’m so thankful for the tools that I do have so I don’t have to relive that moment every single day. 

When I came home, my boys hugged me without knowing how close they came to losing their mom.

The days after were filled with grief.

Some hours felt bearable.

Some were unbearable.

Some were filled with tears.

Some were numb.

Here’s what I know now:

Mia mattered.

She was real.

She was loved intensely from the moment I knew about her.

And she changed me in every possible way.

I didn’t get to bring her home.

I didn’t get to meet her in the way I wanted.

But I got to carry her.

And that will always mean something.

She will always be my daughter.

She will always be part of our family.

Thank you, Carly Black, for sharing your story, and for creating The Mia Michelle Project. Find Carly on Instagram @carlyeblack and follow The Mia Michelle Project @themiamichelleproject

Coping with the heartache of miscarriage can feel lonely. I Had a Miscarriage is a powerful companion for those who have experienced loss, with insight from both a personal and psychological perspective.

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