Empty: Talking About Miscarriage

“I’m so sorry- this pregnancy isn’t progressing,” the blonde ultrasound technician told my husband and I sadly, hovering over the baby’s super-slow heartbeat. When I saw the look in her eyes and the concern in her voice, I emitted a sound that was part-sob, part-scream. Instinctively, I covered my face with my hands; I didn’t want her to see how these words broke me.

My husband and I were hoping for this day- an otherwise normal Wednesday- would bring positive news. We had been in just one week ago, at 6 weeks, where we saw a heartbeat- but a slightly slow one, at the bottom of the acceptable range. My husband was super-excited, and my confidence in the pregnancy picked up a bit- I read once you see a heartbeat, your miscarriage risk drops. 

But the ultrasound tech told us the baby was still pretty small, and we wouldn’t know if the heart rate would pick up until another week or two passed. By the time we returned at 7 weeks, 2 days, she delivered the news that the heart rate had dropped significantly, and the embryo was not growing. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered again.

We were losing our baby- and we hadn’t told anyone that a baby existed in the first place.

While our friends, families, and coworkers knew we were undergoing fertility treatments, we felt it was too early to share the news, which had come in an unexpected way.

I had just finished another round of IUI (artificial insemination) and tested on the appropriate day post-procedure. It was negative- again- and I cried in our bathroom. We went into our fertility clinic a few days later for baseline blood testing and an ultrasound to begin the next cycle.

Hours after the appointment, I was finishing brunch with a girlfriend when I saw a voicemail from the clinic. As I stopped in the restaurant bathroom on my way out, I hit play. A nurse named Sue was not calling about my upcoming IUI plan- she was calling to tell me I was pregnant. I almost dropped my phone in the toilet. Was I hearing her correctly? She said my blood test revealed an hCG level exactly at the threshold used to determine pregnancy, and to come back in a few days to see if this number kept increasing. 

When I told my husband, he was floored- we had already accepted that the last IUI cycle had failed. We knew it was a borderline test result, so we shouldn’t get our hopes up. But we returned to the clinic the following week and the news was good: my hCG levels were rising. The nurse congratulated us and told us to return when I was six weeks pregnant for an early ultrasound.

The period of time from when we confirmed we were pregnant to the day we found out the pregnancy would not continue was just 26 days. But, in those 26 days, our lives changed. I bought baby books, downloaded The Bump and What to Expect apps, and strictly obeyed the 200 milligrams of caffeine per day rule. We tried to be cautiously optimistic- though I knew my risk of miscarriage was higher than average, between being over 35 and having diminished ovarian reserve.

But that optimism disappeared when we heard the heart rate had dropped significantly and the embryo was not growing. What came next was an absolute hellish limbo. Because there was still a heartbeat. Ethically, neither we nor the doctor would do anything until the heartbeat disappeared, but they told us it was inevitable that it would. We had to go home, and simply wait for our baby’s heart to stop.

That weekend was a blur- all I could think about was the fact that I was still pregnant, but soon wouldn’t be. I had no bleeding or signs of miscarrying at home. Five excruciating days later, another ultrasound confirmed there was no longer a heartbeat. My doctor recommended a surgical procedure called a D&C (dilation and curettage) rather than waiting a week or more to miscarry naturally. I knew a few of my friends had gone through miscarriages and had this procedure, so I reached out to them. Being supported by other women who understood because they had been there was a saving grace like no other. 

Two days after that, I had the D&C.

The whole experience was surreal- I felt detached, like I was watching it happen to someone else. Kirk and I arrived at the surgery center, and he was allowed into the pre-op room with me. The nurses and anesthesiologist were super-nice, but I kept feeling like I was going to black out as they put in my IV. I said goodbye to Kirk, and as I was wheeled into surgery a huge lump formed in my throat and I desperately tried not to cry. The last thing I remember was laying down on the operating table, staring at the big lights and fans above me, and drifting into nothingness as the anesthesia kicked in. 

When I woke up, I wasn’t pregnant anymore. I was just empty.

People don’t always talk about miscarriages, because they are sad and uncomfortable. That’s why the cultural norm still exists- you don’t talk about your pregnancy until you are out of the first trimester. Dr. Jessica Zucker, of the Instagram account @ihadamiscarriage, sums it up perfectly:

“This essentially translates into “don’t share your good news in case it becomes bad news, so you won’t have to share the bad news.”

But, anywhere from 15-25% of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage- so chances are good you have a close friend or family member (besides me) who has or will experience one. 

I am going to talk about my miscarriage, rather than contributing to the silence around pregnancy loss. This choice is not right for everyone. But it’s right for me. I believe some women have to talk about it so when others go through a miscarriage, they understand it happens- and more often than we think. When I go back to work, see my friends, or get together with family, I can’t pretend like it never happened. It’s a huge part of my life. So, I’m sharing our story. Even though it is sad and uncomfortable, it’s the story of our baby, and I want to remember it.

Medical Disclaimer:

The information provided in this blog is intended for general informational purposes only and should not be considered as a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your healthcare provider or qualified medical professional with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read in this blog.