Moving On After Recurrent Miscarriage

 

Miscarriage.

For any woman who has had one, it is very hard to see or hear that word. It can bring many emotions or even cause a woman to shut down. It is still hard for me, even now. Let me start from the beginning.

In 2001, at the age of 24, I lost my first baby. I had a bad argument with the baby’s father and started to bleed. I was crushed. I turned to alcohol and drugs to cope with the pain. I was hitting the bars and partying until all hours of the night, sometimes until I passed out. It took a night of drinking myself into oblivion to finally make me realize that I needed to stop.

I moved away to get a fresh start and try to put the pain behind me.

In 2004, after meeting and marrying my now ex-husband, I became pregnant again only to lose that child also. I felt so helpless and blamed myself, but I kept on going. I somehow managed to live my daily life with a smile on my face. I avoided baby departments as much as I could because it was just too hard to walk past them. People just don’t understand that sometimes you can’t just forget. You can’t dismiss the fact that you once carried a life inside of you–even if it was just for a few weeks.

Fast forward to 2010. I found out I was pregnant again, but miscarried within a few days of finding out. This loss was followed by two more in 2011 and 2012. One loss was an ectopic pregnancy that required a shot of chemo to dissolve what was left of the pregnancy. Again, I dealt with it and started to come to terms with the fact that I may not ever have a child of my own.

In 2014, I met my husband, and we were married in 2015. Shortly after, I found out I was pregnant. The day I was supposed see my OB/GYN, my appointment was rescheduled for a week later. For some reason, I was feeling good about this pregnancy, but when I was 6 weeks pregnant, I began bleeding at work. I left and rushed home to go to the emergency room. I knew what it was happening. They removed what was left of the pregnancy and placed it in a cup. Yes, I had had other miscarriages, but I had passed them all. This time the baby was sitting there for me to see. All I could do was tell my husband that I was sorry.

I went to my doctor afterwards and she told me that I wasn’t having a problem getting pregnant. My problem was staying pregnant. This I already knew.

So like so many times before, I returned back to my daily life. I was working and coming home; simply going through the motions. My husband came home one weekend right after it happened and we went shopping. He walked through the baby department and I just lost it. He apologized, not realizing what he had done had triggered my emotions and caused me to cry in the middle of the store.

I was just getting back to good after the holidays when I found out in that I was pregnant again. I took a pregnancy test just for fun because I was still a few days away from mother nature calling. It was positive. I called my doctor that Monday when I got to work. They got me in and confirmed my pregnancy and started me on progesterone. I woke up every morning in fear of losing another child. They scheduled me for weekly ultrasounds, and I finally heard the heartbeat. I cried at every appointment watching my baby grow. Even though I was excited at the thought of the life growing inside of me, deep down I worried about losing it.

In June of last year, we found out our child was a boy, and in October, I gave birth to our rainbow baby. Daniel was born healthy and weighed 7 pounds 4 ounces. Today, I am 39 years-old with a beautiful 4 month-old baby boy.

I tell my story for one reason–don’t give up hope. Yes, you will hear some unpleasant things from people.

“Be glad you didn’t have a child with him.”

“You can always try again.”

“It just wasn’t meant to be.”

“It will happen when it is meant to.”

And let’s not forget my favorite question, “Why don’t you have any children yet?”

That is when I kindly explain that I had multiple miscarriages even though deep down I just want to rip their heads off. There is nothing more disrespectful to a parent of a lost child than to ask them questions or make statements that make them feel belittled or like they have failed.

So even though you may feel like all hope is gone, you can and will get past it. I finally told myself that I would have a child when I was meant to and with whom I was meant to. I know every woman has different struggles, but I believe it will happen. Just have hope.

My lucky number seven. I have a son who has 6 angel brothers and sisters watching over him. And for that, he is the lucky one.