I had considered doing a blog post on this topic since I started this blog, but I was never sure how to form it. The "starting a conversation" phrase inspired me. I'm also a big believer in "signs" and at the beginning of this month I was reading the novel "What Alice Forgot", about a woman who wakes from a head injury and has lost 10 years of year memory. As I was reading I wondered what that would be like if I woke up thinking it was 10 years ago, and realized if I did it would be during the most devastating time of my life so far, on the eve of the DNC for my second loss. It took me a little time to gather my thoughts and feelings for this blog. And please understand, these are my experiences with first trimester loss, and I don't mean to say this is what happens to other women, and I don't think I could ever comprehend the heartache and devastation of a loss later in pregnancy.
The following insight is what to expect when you lose what you're expecting, told through my stories of loss.
1. Expect the Loss of Innocence
My husband and I were road-tripping to the West Coast as expectant parents on a our belated honeymoon, and as we drove the coast the spotting started, and then the loss itself. We were far from home, and I was feeling like my poor baby was being buried by way of gas station toilet as we traveled home. It was reality I'd not experienced before. Life's not perfect or easy, but it had never been this hard. It had never been this personal. To have something so magical dashed away. It was an awakening for me. A real loss of innocence. The first time I really felt like I had to deal with a serious adult situation. We'd been listening to the Big and Rich CD, "Horse of a Different Color" as we drove and the song "Holy Water" put words to how I was feeling so perfectly:"Somewhere there's a stolen halo, I used to watch her wear it well. Everything would shine whereever she would go. But looking at her now you'd never tell. Someone ran away with her innocence. A memory she can't get out of her head. I can only imagine what she's feeling when she's praying. Kneeling at the edge of her bed". [Read the full lyrics] [Listen to the song]
2. Expect Kindness by Surprise
I come from a rather non-heart on the sleeve type family, we feel deeply, we just don't display it in soap opera flair, wailing draped over a bed or with wild-eyed fist pounding and cries of "Whhhhyyy". So I shouldn't have expected that kind visual of reaction when my family heard of the loss, but I think it needed someone to show me it was okay to feel as horrible as I did. No one did. Until one day, I get a big envelope in the mail with a sweet little book, about better days head, from the wife of my husband's good friend. That single, simple act of kindness allowed me to validate my feelings and I'm forever grateful for that.3. Expect a Bad Timing Breakdown
People are curious and they want to ask questions - either as a way to show they care or just because they are nosy. However, they don't always interrogate you at the appropriate time. For example, my second loss was in early October. A couple months later at Christmas dinner, at a table of no less than a dozen people, my aunt asks "so what happened with your pregnancy?" My second loss was unusual, a rare molar pregnancy and I got a lot of questions about it, but that day, as the table grew quiet and I tried to explain, the tears began to flow and I felt like a fool. What my aunt didn't know was because of this type of loss there was an extensive follow up period that I was still enduring....4. Expect Inconsiderate People
Shortly after my second loss, my employers (a married couple) announced that they were pregnant and due a month after what was supposed to be my due date. This couple just happened to be childhood friends and college roommates of my husband. I wasn't upset about their pregnancy, but my work environment transformed in to a mine field. Because they were friends they knew the details of both losses, but empathy was lost on them.I should explain a molar pregnancy is very rare, and only occurs in 1 in 1500 pregnancies. It's when two sperm fertilize one egg resulting in a whole extra set of chromosomes. The baby fails to develop early on, but the placenta grows fast giving you all the appropriate pregnancy symptoms. Because of the extra "information" the placenta is more like a tumor that can grow through your uterus and attach to other organs. One in five molar pregnancies turns cancerous. Not many years ago the fix was a hysterectomy. Now the treatment is a very through and painful DNC to remove every single cell, necessary to prevent regrowth. It's impossible to tell if every cell is removed in surgery, so for months you have to return to the lab weekly for a blood draw to make sure your HCG hormone level is going down. You're also given birth control and told you can't "try again" for a year.
My friends knew this. Every Friday, I'd spend my lunch hour at the clinic lab waiting to get my blood drawn and then the afternoon waiting for my "is it cancer?" call. I did this for three months. The lab didn't take appointments and I was on occasion 5-15 minutes late returning, at one point I was told to keep track of those minutes so they could be deducted from my sick days (regardless that I was salaried and came early/worked late regularly). Our office plan was open, no cubicles and the female boss's desk was just 10 feet or so from mine. More times than I cared to bear, the pregnant lady from the office next door would come over and hang out at my boss's desk to chat. They would discuss symptoms, baby showers, whether they could ride a snowmobile or not, all while I would practically draw blood biting my lip trying not to cry. I'd then go home a wreck to my dear husband who put up with more sadness than anyone should have to. I didn't expect to be treated with kid gloves, but a little discretion would have been nice.
5. Expect a Rock
Expect your spouse to not share or show their emotions - or at least not in the way you expect them to. I knew my husband was upset and sad, but I also saw his greatest concern was for me. Having a baby (in the first trimester) was still a little abstract for him, but his tenderness toward me let me know he understood even if it wasn't the same for him.6. Expect Your Spouse to Feel Helpless
Whether your loss is natural and spontaneous or requires medical treatment, the whole process is out of your spouse's hands. My knight in shining armor didn't know how to come to my rescue. I needed to say what I needed from him, which was really just his presence and love.7. Expect to Want to Know Why
With both losses I needed a reason, not just a physical "why" reason, but a spiritual reason - an understanding of the purpose of the loss. My first loss at 7 weeks was a spontaneous miscarriage, I don't know the physical reason for that loss - was it something I did? Was it the long drive to the west coast? Walking on the lower oxygen mountains? But, with this loss, I understood soon after, the spiritual reason - which was to need my new husband in a way I never had before. I had been his shoulder during a health situation with this dad, but I'd never been the one one needing a shoulder. This loss showed me how well my husband could care for me, how tender he could be, how available he was when I needed him most. All important things to know about your spouse and the father of your kids. I feel my first loss was a lesson in this way. My second loss, I know the physical reason, but 10 years later, still wonder what the spiritual purpose of that prolonged devastation was.8. Expect to Cry Yourself to Sleep
Bedtime was the worst for me, especially after the second loss. For months, maybe longer, the thoughts and dreams that entertained me as I drifted off to sleep were of the future and of course they included having children. Given the "you can't try again for a year" instruction, it literally felt like the doctor had sucked the dreams out of me with the "unviable tissue". And I would cry. Every night. For a long time.9. Expect to Want to Fill the Empty
The DNC left me physically and mentally empty. A hole I couldn't figure out how to fill, until one night I ate so much at a restaurant I felt like I could burst - and as horrible as that felt, I realized when I was that full it was pretty impossible to feel empty in any way. In my desperate sadness this became an easy answer, so for months I ate until I couldn't. I gained 20lbs, which 10 years later still hangs on me. I've gained and lost the weight with each of my kids, except this 20lbs and I'm starting to wonder if I'm subconsciously hanging on to it as the only thing I have left from those pregnancies. Or maybe I'm just extra creative in coming up with excuses.10. Expect to Hear Things You'll Feel Bad About
My sister is a year younger than me and got married a year after me, and when I was having trouble with my pregnancies, she told me that our dad told her not to rush into having babies while I was going through this. Sure it would have been incredibly hard to have my younger sister pregnant as I was struggling but I never thought about how my losses would impact others out of courtesy for me, and I felt bad. And in all honesty, a little good too, for the misdirected concern.11. Expect Due Date Anxiety
Early losses fade and it seemed like just as I was starting to feel normal the due date was upon us, bringing me back to the sadness. We were supposed to be doing something so amazing and important on that day, and now it's just your average Wednesday.12. Expect Life to Go On
The hardest part of the early loss for me was that the baby was only "real" to me. You have to go back to work and back to normal with this inner ache that most around you don't understand and don't care to discuss. Your sadness has to be limited to your own time and the normalcy of the world around you seems so hard to fit into. Remembering to act "like yourself" is tiring, but having people ask you if you're feeling okay because you look down, and then having (or wanting to, but can't) explain that it's more than what they expect to be wrong with you, is even worse.13. Expect to See Babies Everywhere
One of the cruel facts of life is that you notice things in your environment because your brain is tuned into them. When you lose a baby you see all the babies and pregnant ladies - they practically glow. There's always a pregnant women in line with you at the store or crossing in front of you on the street. After my second loss, not only were the boss and next-door lady pregnant, but a month later another employee announced that his wife was pregnant with twins. I thought I was going to have to chain myself to my desk to keep from jumping out the window.14. Expect the Guilt & Feeling of Failure
When a loss begins you immediately being spinning all the scenarios of what caused it in your head. "I shouldn't have drove over the mountains", "I had to slam on the brakes because of that idiot driver, could that have done it?", "Did I eat deli meat!?". You worry you did something wrong. The guilt and feeling of failure are so personal. You let everyone down. It was your fault, you were trusted to grow this baby and you messed it up. The logical part of your brain and Google will tell you this isn't true, but you can't help how you feel.15. Expect to Be Angry and Annoyed
People try to come up with things to say that are supposed to make you feel better. For me it made me feel angry and annoyed. "You're still a mom to a baby in heaven." Well, I didn't want a baby in heaven. I can't smell that baby or rock that baby. I can't see or hear that baby and while it's a sweet sentiment, it just reminds me of what I'm missing. Do moms of babies in heaven go to kindergarten round-up 5 years later? Or have kid size hand prints on their windows? Yes, those souls will have a home in my heart for eternity, but I'm not their mom in the way I want to be. Sometimes words make it worse. Sometimes a simple hug can say it better.The burden of sadness from losing a pregnancy is something many women experience. Whether you're alone in your grief or share it with those close to you, no one can fully understand your feelings - the mix of shock, sadness, guilt, anger and loss of the lifetime of dreams you had for that child can't be described or shared like it can with the loss of a living family member. In a lot of ways, even with a support system, you're alone in sorting out and managing your feelings. And it's okay to wallow in them.
It's also okay to share your story - to start the conversation - for those women just now going through the pain of a pregnancy loss. You may say something that gives them a sense of comfort or at least the benefit of knowing what they are experiencing isn't unusual. So if you would like, please feel free to comment below with your experiences. Maybe our words can help someone who stumbles on this blog during their search for answers about their loss.
Not everyone gets the happy ending that I did, and my heart breaks for those people. We're so fortunate in these modern times to have options when it comes to becoming a parent, from medical interventions to adoption and beyond. I hope those suffering through a loss right now can find the peace they need with it - an understanding, a reason or an acceptance that helps them move on.
