I'm Hopeful I Will Mother a Living Baby Soon


Photo submitted anonymously and shared with permission


It was wasn’t exactly planned. My pregnancy, that is. But I was so excited when I saw those two pink lines indicating I was expecting my first child. I was ready to take on the world for that bundle of joy. I called my best friend in the happiest of tears. It was my first pregnancy. My first baby. My first miscarriage.


The dates will forever be seared into my brain. The year 2020. July 9, the first day of my last period. August 1, the day I got the positive pregnancy test confirming my suspicions. September 4, the day I started spotting, September 8, the day I gave into my anxiety and went to the hospital to get tests—and the first and only ultrasound I would get. September 14th, the day I miscarried. April 15, 2021, my baby’s due date.


The day I started spotting my immediate reaction was panic. But I reminded myself spotting is normal. I have a friend that just went through a similar experience and she made it through with a healthy baby. But I called my midwife, just in case, to see if tests needed to be done early as I was just at the eight-week mark. But she said it was most likely normal spotting and too early to tell if I was miscarrying.


That didn’t sit well with me. It was a holiday weekend, so I struggled with my growing anxiety for three days until I finally caved in and went to the emergency room. I had a wonderful nurse and doctor that day, and will forever remember their names. The doctor got me in for an ultrasound and took my HCG, but it hadn’t been taken previously so I had to wait two more days before I could know if the numbers went up or down.


I should have known right away when I was given the ultrasound results and they dated my fetus at six weeks, three days (I should have been eight weeks, five days). But it was my first pregnancy, and I was still very naïve and/or ignorant about these things. Or maybe I just needed the hope.


I found out a few days later that my HCG had decreased. I knew right away what that meant, but I called the emergency after hours line to talk to a maternity doctor, wishing and hoping there was something that could be done to save my baby. Her kind but honest confirmation of “I’m sorry, you are miscarrying” was so definitive and I just knew there was nothing more to say.


I physically lost my baby a few days after I found out I was miscarrying. I have no reason or explanation. All I have is the ultrasound, the memories of my first trimester, and the love and happiness I felt that I’ll never forget.


My baby didn’t develop far enough for me to tell the sex, but I’m pretty convinced she would have been a beautiful little girl. I struggle every day. Some days are harder than others, but I hold out hope that I will get the chance to be a mom to a living baby someday soon.


This post was submitted anonymously, with permission to share.


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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