I'll Always Remember When I Lost My Baby

Updated: Apr 4


Photo by Catherine Taosuvanna


1 in 4. The statistics tell me I’m not alone, yet it’s not something that many women talk about. We’ve been told we shouldn’t wait too long to have another one for various reasons, miscarriage being one of them. I didn’t think it would happen to me, yet here we are.


We were shocked that becoming pregnant happened so quickly. The anticipation and nervousness came flooding in. Were we ready for the sleepless nights again? The diaper changes? The delirium?


We waited patiently for that first ultrasound to finally see what was growing inside me. The science of it all still amazes me. Once we saw the little heart valves fluttering, it was news we couldn’t wait to share.


In the back of my head, I wanted to wait until that so-called 12-week “safe zone” to announce it to the world, but we found ourselves in a whirlwind of excitement and shared the news with family and some friends. After all, we just bought a bigger house and couldn’t wait to fill it with more tiny feet. My 3-year-old daughter kept asking about the baby in my tummy and saying she wanted a little sister.


This pregnancy was so different from when I carried our daughter and looking back, we were lucky that everything went smoothly with her. I welcomed every symptom despite how uncomfortable it made me feel. Oh, how I still yearn to have nausea, bloating, fatigue, and yes, even weight gain.


I thought the fading of symptoms was because I was so close to the second trimester. Then the intermittent spotting became constant, followed by dark red then bright red bleeding.


I knew something was wrong going in for the ultrasound but a part of me was in denial. Hearing the news that no heartbeat was detected and that my baby was only measuring about 8 weeks hit me like a ton of bricks. I saw the fluttering heart valves just a few weeks ago.


I’ll always remember that November 6 was when I found out I lost my baby. The analysis of what could’ve gone wrong started to consume my thoughts. Was it stress? Did I carry something too heavy? Was there something wrong genetically? Is there something wrong with my womb?


Distraction from reality was oddly welcome, but when reality set in the tears were always at the brink of falling. My OB told me she expected the tissue would pass in a few days but scheduled a D&C just in case.


When it didn’t, I started thinking maybe everything was okay, maybe they got it wrong. Then it happened, and all the sadness, shock, and grief came flooding in.


The remaining parts of my baby were removed and now my body feels empty.

I didn’t know I would feel so emotional. My baby would’ve been nearing 12 weeks right now—the so-called “safe zone.”


The tears still come. While driving. In the middle of the night. While packing up our house. The nights have been sleepless thinking about the what-ifs.


The grief has been eased a bit with my daughter being so sweet. She asks me why I’m sad. She tells me that I’ll feel better. She gives me much needed hugs and kisses. I know we’ll get through this.


Thank you @c4_ngutaopac for sharing your story. Shared with permission.


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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