TW: miscarriage, slightly graphic details

To be honest, just writing the title of this post felt painful. I have been writing about the hard-hitting effects from having PCOS since 2014. If you go on to Pinterest and type in PCOS, it’s likely to pop up many of my articles and photos of me. I’ve written on this very blog about my struggles to conceive, and then the joys of becoming pregnant and giving birth to my precious little girl.

In January, my husband and I suffered a miscarriage. I haven’t had the strength to write about it, but I firmly believe that writing is a form of therapy and self care. I’ve written through all the stages of my life. I’ve been vulnerable about the deepest parts of myself with you, and I wanted to share this story so you don’t think you’re in this alone. If you have suffered a miscarriage, my heart pours out to you even more than it did before, when I wrote this article about miscarriage being a topic I hadn’t experienced, but was a symptom of PCOS.

After the traumatic birth story from our (almost) 2 year old, I knew that pregnancy was difficult and volatile, but that I wanted another child. Upon finding out I was pregnant this time, I was ecstatic. I knew I wanted to live in the moment, something I had never given myself room to do when I was pregnant with Clara. I felt every feeling, and was expectant of all the great things to come. We waited for my first appointment (at 11 weeks) with excitement, and I realized that something was very wrong around 10.5 weeks.

THE MISCARRIAGE

I saw spotting and remembered from my first pregnancy that it could be normal. When I began to feel pain and more increased spotting, I knew something wasn’t right. I called my mom to come over and sit with my daughter, and my husband and I went to the emergency room. To be honest, the ER was traumatic in itself. No one seemed to take me seriously, no one rushed to help, and everyone said things to try to shield my feelings instead of talk to me logically about what I already knew was happening: I was losing my baby.

When they finally said I needed to be transferred to another hospital with an ultrasound tech on staff at that time of night, I went to use the restroom. While walking there, I lost a large amount of blood and tissue. It was so scary and sad. Paralyzed, the nurse talked me through it. She got me new underwear, new pants, and helped clean me up. My cramps had increased in frequency and pain. I felt all of this, and looked to my husband. He couldn’t feel it. He still had hope, and that filled me with even more sadness.

The ultrasound confirmed what I already knew. I finally went home very early the next morning. I’d never cried so much. At my doctor the next day, they let me know that my body was working on passing the tissue and blood and lowering my HCG levels naturally. I went back every few days to have blood drawn to be sure. (This does not happen for some women, so they need to take pills or have a surgery to make this happen.)

The days after the initial miscarriage event were painful. I did not have a natural birth with my first (c-section,) so I didn’t have that to compare it to. But it was more painful than healing from that, more painful than my stomach surgery, and the physical pain was the thing I didn’t expect.

I think we all look at miscarriage and immediately think, “WOW, you have to be strong to endure that! You must feel so much sadness. Your loss is so great.” Something I didn’t expect was the physical pain I was going to be in. It was immense.

WHAT NOW?

Since my miscarriage in January, my periods are off schedule again. Something I felt so much pride in getting back to normal the year before getting pregnant with Clara, that returned back to normal after birth, is now a mess again. My PCOS symptoms are back in full force, including even more male pattern hair growth, irregular periods, difficulty losing weight, and HS. It’s hard to feel like I have been set back 3-4 years of progress.

I also feel incomplete. I am so thankful for and fulfilled by my life now. We have our sweet Clara, but the reality is that I was hoping to give her a built in friend for life. As my due date approaches, I feel pain and an ache in my body and mind. As I see friends nearing the birth of their children, I can’t help but imagine having my own baby and that experience to bond us as mothers and parents.

I am not sure what the future of expanding our family holds. It’s a decision that is still to be determined, both in deciding with my husband and seeing how my body reacts or cooperates. To those people who have told me “YOU SHOULD HAVE ANOTHER!” Please understand and feel my pain. To those who have suffered a loss as a mother, no matter how “early” it was or what “kind” of miscarriage you endured, please know that your feelings are valid.

To my dear August baby, your presence is sincerely missed.