Post your Story

All I can do is keep breathing...

My husband had wanted children for several years before I agreed to start trying to conceive. I always felt that I wasn’t ready yet, and made every excuse I could think of for why we should wait. Then one day, it hit me: I was ready to have a baby. Not just that I was ready, but I was excited about it! Five months after going off birth control, I had another negative pregnancy test and was so depressed at the thought of another month of trying. A week later I still had not started my period. My husband thought I was crazy, but I had to know, so I bought a home pregnancy test. It came back positive! Words can’t describe my excitement at that point! Everything happened so fast after that: baby names, nursery furniture, hearing the baby’s heartbeat, discussing how/when to tell our family.

I started spotting a few days later. It was shocking and scary. My OB/GYN said all we could do was wait and see, so I set my mind to do that. Over the next 3 weeks, the spotting got progressively worse, until it turned to bleeding. Then the bleeding got progressively worst, and I started cramping. I think I already knew in my mind that the baby was gone when I went to see my OB/GYN again. She confirmed my worst fears. God bless those health care providers that have to deliver that kind of news. I passed the embryo the next day.

It has been 3 weeks since the miscarriage. We decided to try to conceive again right away, so I went back to charting my BBT and using an OPK. A few days after the OPK was positive, I started spotting all over again. I guess I didn’t pass all the tissue during my miscarriage. Starting from square one all over again…

I’ve cried a lot recently. I think the grief hit me much harder two weeks after the miscarriage. My husband and I just decided to wait a little while before trying again, which breaks my heart. I want a baby so bad, but I just don’t think my broken heart can handle trying again right now. I vacillate between sadness and anger. Sometimes I’m angry at God; sometimes I’m angry at my body for producing a baby that couldn’t survive; sometimes I’m angry at the unfairness of it all; sometimes I’m angry that no one knows what to say when I tell them about the miscarriage, or that nothing they say makes me feel any better.

Tonya

Moses

well it s hard to start im Diana i have Grave s Desease or hyperthyroidism im 27 im pregnant but as it happened before my pregnancy is high risk i have 8 weeks but instead of enjoy i kind or live in a nightmare why well i found out i was pregnant for the first time on november last year i had a hard pregnancy full of pain bleeding but i always had the hope everything was gonna get better during the time i was pregnant i went to the emergency room at least 30 times and a lot of regular appoiments too but even that i could finish my pregnancy my baby died at 21 weeks when i delivered on my house toilet i was or im in pain no one could help me dr used to tell me that there s nothing they can reaaly do and if it was gonna happen it was gonna happen i was devastated today after 1 year I am in the eighth week of my second pregnancy and i dont live in peace and I am afraid, and
every little pain makes me think the worst i dont know not know if I'll be able to have this baby
i 'm sick i i understand that and i take care of my self but is there's anything i can do to make things better? i wish i could know but
Losing my first baby I lost a lot of hope and i know still was not the proper time to get pregnant for the second time because l fear and i haven't relieve my grief im in a great need that someone could tell me that this time will be ok
but i have no hope ...
I'm not good with more words to express my regret and my feeling but I hope that those who have suffered this pain find peace and happiness ....i cant do this anymore.
This baby deserves the best of me and im gonna give it to her.

Diana

A lost, but still full of hope

At 43 we had our miscarriage at 6 weeks and 1 day. I think I was surprised because my symptoms were so extreme during the first 1 1/2 weeks. I was surprise that it took us 3 months to get pregnant. We have a 12 month and 25 month old daughter. So getting pregnant has not been a problem. It took 3 months with the toddler, 1 month with the 12 month old. So we are sad, but feeling optimistic that we will be pregnant again by January. Of course, we will be on pins and needles.

mia

my delusional depression

Last Thursday(Sept.24th)....I woke up...and something was different. Didn't know exactly what....but being pregnant, my thoughts turned to the baby. I just felt....different. So, I had my sister come jump my dead battery in my car, then proceeded to drive to every doctor within a certain mile radius. I just wanted checked....to make sure everything was Ok with the baby and that wasn't what my "strange" feeling was about. Apparently there is a baby BOOM going on...cause the closest available doctor (who wasn't already over booked with new patients) was an hour away. After many offices...many "Im sorry he's not taking new patients" frustration set in...(and exhaustion...it was after all WAY past my nap time). So...I drove to the dollar store...got a dollar pregnancy test.....just to make sure. YEP! Still positive. Whew....some relief.
So....I went home...and took a nap.
Friday morning...I woke up earlier than usual...I was cramping a bit...and couldnt sleep. It was still dark out. I went for my first morning pee....and...WTF? There was discoloration...spotting. It wasnt bright red...and it wasnt full on blood...but it scared the shit out of me. So...I got on the computer and researched spotting while pregnant. There was good information and bad information. Some ladies said they spotted during pregnancy, but ended up delivering healthy babies. That their doctors recommended bed rest for 24 hours...and if the spotting, or bleeding didnt stop within a few days...to go to the doctor. Or...if it was accompanied by fever, chills, or severe cramps.
Well...I was only "slightly" cramping....and the discoloration...was light pink...and gooey. So...I decided...bed rest it is (I'm not chancing shit!) and if the spotting hadnt stopped by Monday...to the hospital I would go.All day Friday...every time I would pee...I would be soooo scared that I would see something...but 4pm came...and there had been no additional spotting.Only the one time...first thing in the morning when I had pee'd. Semi-relief set in. I texted Jesse at work..."No more spotting!!" Yea! Feeling better...I decided to brush my hair, teeth, put on a little make-up and do a load of laundry.
Afterward...I went to the bathroom again. This time...there was spotting again. Quite a bit more. Panicked....I IMMEDIATELY laid down...thinking I had pushed myself too far. I slept. I was scared, but still hopeful. Lots of women bleed during their pregnancies. Try not to be too scared, I told myself....rubbing my belly as I drifted off...telling my baby how much I loved it.
When I woke up...there was alot of goo.
NOW I am panicked. Still...no cramps (only mild discomfort), no fever, no chills.
As the night progressed...every time I would go to the bathroom...there was more. By 9pm...I was exhausted...and my stomach hurt. Nausea's...with bloating. So....I fell asleep on the couch next to Jesse (with him holding my hand) waiting for my 17 year old daughter to return home. Her curfew was 11...but during the course of my sleeping on the couch, she and Jesse had multiple phone conversations resulting in later and later returning home time. At 1am, Jesse woke me. He had to work a double the next day (Saturday...yesterday) and said he was going to bed, that Soph should be home any minute. Since I had been asleep for hours....I told him.."Go to bed, baby...I'll wait up for her". He went to bed. Soph got home at 1:30. From 1-1:30.....my stomach was hurting...I was half asleep...and bitchy. After Soph got home...I tucked her in, and went to bed. But...no matter which way I positioned myself...I couldnt get comfortable. My stomach was all distended...and aching. So...at 2:30...after lying there hurting...I got up to look for some tylenol.
I ended up being up ALL NIGHT. Literally...all night. Rolling around on the couch, rocking back and forth....begging God to let this pass...to let me keep my baby.
By 6am...the spotting had turned to some bleeding. I was a mess. A mixture of emotions I didnt even know how to process. I woke Jeese up for work, told him about my night. He says "Why dont you have my mom drive you to the doctor?" concern written all over his face. I said.."Whats done is done...and I dont feel like seeing anyone right now"I was bitter, frightened, exhausted. I told him...I would stay in bed (on the couch) all day...and we would see how things progressed. I was soooo tired, having not slept all night, and at this point the cramping had subsided. I was practically asleep standing there talking to him, so I knew sleep would come easy and fast. I just wanted to sleep...wake up, and access the situation from there.So, he left for work...and I went to sleep. When I woke up...I peed...not good. At first...there was only spotting and blood when I wiped, now...there was a substantial enough amount that it was showing up on the pad I was wearing. Until now...the pad had always been clean. A little bit of relief in my scared mind. But now...it was on the pad! Within the next 4 hours...I went through 5 pads...changing them cause I didnt want the blood against me. A constant reminder of what was possibly happening. I called my sister and cried a bit. I was scared, panicking. She did her best to assure me that everything was alright...that she knew women who had full blown periods the whole time they were pregnant.I said "yeah...but I never did!" She reminded me that I was older now. Maybe thats why. I would go pee....wipe...see the blood...cry..try to settle my nerves..and go back to bed. Hoping each time that I woke up, the bleeding would have stopped.
As the day went on....I would sit on the toilet...and as I was peeing..blood was coming out of me.Then...pouring out. I felt so alone. So scared. I (disgustingly) would reach into the toilet and mess with the blood. Making sure there was no substance to it...no mass...only runny blood. Each time....it was just blood. Until it wasnt. Within a 30 minute to an hours time...the blood turned to clots of blood...and then....
There was my baby. Laying in the toilet. It looked like a blood clot bout the size of a large grape...but this clot had something in it. I fished it out of the toilet. It held its form. All substance, no runny. I examined it.
There was my baby. My little seahorse of an embryo. I could see its head, its eye sockets, its spine and tail bone (elongated), its paddle like arm nubs and the place where its heart was.
In shock...I held it in my hands for quite awhile. Looking at it. Realizing what had just happened.
Shock. Depression. Sadness....such sadness........
I will never forget how my baby looked as I held it in my hands.
I went outside and cried and cried. I didnt want to tell anyone. I didnt want it to be true.
Freaked...I laid back down...and cried myself to sleep.
When I woke up...Jesse was texting me..."feeling??" so...I told him..."I passed it, held it, its gone"
So......
My baby went to live with God yesterday.
I wanted that baby for years before I actually was lucky enough to conceive it. To be blessed enough to carry it in my womb for the short amount of time that I did. I love that baby.
I am sad.
Everything for a reason, right? This doesnt mean I will never get to have Jesses baby.
I had already told everyone I was pregnant and was in celebration of my much desired child to come.So...now I must tell everyone that I miscarried my child.
I am no longer pregnant. I know cause I held it in my hands.
Today.....I bleed full on...just like yesterday.
Yesterday was filled with tears and sorrow.
I wonder what today will bring?
Please give me the strength and humility to accept things as they are.
Im not accepting phone calls right now. I am in the grieving process.Jesse and I both are.
Though I am beyond grateful for all of the blessings in my life.
This too shall pass....though I will always remember the baby I loved so much, that I was blessed enough to carry for the short amount of time that it lived inside of me.
I love that baby. May it fly with the angels.

It is now..October 26th. I am soooo unbelievably depressed. I cannot stand the thought of seeing anyone. Talking to anyone. I obsessively listen to my stomach with the fetal monitor my sister gave me....hoping...listening for another baby. I am such a mess!!!

Sumre Star White

Gone

"I'm sorry...we can't find a heartbeat."

Those words still bring tears to my eyes. It's been six days and I feel that lump in the throat when I read that sentence. It's the one that you try so hard to swallow down, but it seems like nothing can make it go away. Nothing but hot tears streaming uncontrollably down your cold cheeks.

Talking about it has helped a lot, so I figure the best way to get past all of this is to write about it. So here is my story.

I had a miscarriage.

That was last week. This story begins several years ago. My husband asked me about two years ago if I was ready for kids because he "didn't want to be an old dad." (I'm 27 now and he's 28) But I wasn't ready.

Last year, we celebrated our 3 year wedding anniversary and I told him over a candlelit dinner that I wanted to have children. We'd paid off our credit cards, we both had stable jobs and we owned our own home. I felt like the timing was finally right in my life. He was excited and surprised to say the least.

A few months later I got off of the pill. At first, my periods were a slight disappointment, but there was "always next month." After four months of failure I convinced myself I was pregnant. Turned out it was just a stressful month and my cycle was irregular. I cried the night my period started. I started to lose hope. I couldn't understand why this wasn't happening as quickly as I wanted it to. I wanted this so badly.

We decided to get away from it all and take a long weekend in Vegas. One of my best friends and her husband met us there. I had cramping in the airport on the way there. I figured my period was starting again, so I didn't think much of it. After three days in Vegas, my friend convinced me to take a pregnancy test.

It was positive.

And so was the one after that.

I cried, I shook, I was absolutely in shock. I was so happy, so elated. So scared. I was in utter bliss after that moment. My dream--our dream, had finally come true.

As soon as we got back home I started to feel sick and have severe cramping. I cramped so badly I woke up in the middle of the night unable to breathe or even cry. I called the doctor and she suggested I have my blood tested. My hormones were "a little on the low side." So at six weeks, she prescribed some hormones for me to take.

At eight weeks I had my first ultrasound. The ultrasound technician turned off all of the lights in the room. The only thing turned on was the monitor hanging on the wall. The room was consumed with the sound of the pounding of that little heart. "There's your baby" she told me cheerfully. It was so surreal. It was so wonderful. It was terrifying. I really did have this little baby growing inside of me.

I heard the heart beat. I saw the heart beat. It was a little slow and since I've researched everything to death I automatically recognized that there was a problem.

Later the doctor mentioned it to me in passing. She suggested I take another blood test and come back in two weeks to monitor the heart rate. She also mentioned the baby was only measuring 7 1/2 weeks. But she didn't seem alarmed. If anything she seemed optimistic. She was my personal cheerleader.

The next day I got the call I was dreading. My hormone levels were still too low. I found out that at 6 weeks my progesterone was only at 15 and should've been at 20. At 8 weeks, my progesterone was still at 15...that was with my intake of hormone supplements. It should've been at 25...on my own. The nurse told me to increase my hormone supplements some more.

As soon as I hung up the phone I burst into tears. For the first time in this pregnancy, I was really terrified for my baby. I was so scared. I was so utterly helpless.

The following weeks consisted of me trying to be even healthier, going for walks with my dogs, eating more fruits. I did everything I could to make this baby healthy. I took my hormones, my pre-natal vitamins and I avoided anything that I had read anywhere could possibly be harmful.

At 10 weeks I went into my precautionary ultrasound. My heart raced and I felt more nervous than I had ever been in my life. I had a different ultrasound technician, she seemed confused as to why I was there. I explained the low heart rate to her. So she began the ultrasound.

Silence overpowered the room. Then I saw the baby. I was so relieved to see it. The technician asked me a second time how far along I was.

"10 weeks."

"This baby is only 7 1/2 weeks along."

Someone please wake me up.

She left to get the doctor to "get a second opinion." The ultrasound technician who does ultrasounds all day long. The woman who earns her living looking at fetuses and listening to their tiny hearts beat was getting a second opinion...

I laid on the cold table begging myself to keep it together. Begging and willing myself not to cry.

She came back in without a doctor, but had a small teddy bear in her hand. I thought to myself, please tell me they don't give you a teddy bear to console you for the loss of your child. That's when I recognized it as a breast cancer bear.

"Look what someone gave me in the hallway. I had breast cancer five years ago." She went through and told me about her very personal and private fight with cancer.

That's when I was positive my baby was dead.

Why else would a complete stranger tell me these events of her life, other than to offer me hope and perspective. Yes it's a horrible thing, but hey, it's not cancer.

Then my cheerleader came in. She checked the ultrasound again. The picture this time was very clear. The baby had not grown. The baby had no heart beat. My baby was gone.

"Are you alone here today?"

"Yes."

That's when she told me the words that I would've done anything not to hear.

I burst into uncontrollable sobs. I lost all of my self-control. I became a blubbering mess. I was so embarrassed. I was ashamed. I couldn't think straight at all.

They led me to another room to sob in silence for a few minutes. All I wanted to do was leave. I wanted to run out of there crying. I wanted to crawl into my bed and sob until I couldn't breathe anymore. I wanted to erase all of this.

But I sat in that room. I sat in that room and tried to compose myself. I was halfway there, when the doctor came in to discuss my "options."

Wait for it to happen, or make it happen.

I decided for the surgery. I wanted to put this all behind me. I wanted to forget. I wanted to pretend like nothing ever happened.

But it did happen.

The rest of that day I spent telling the people I love and care about the most that I had lost my precious gift. The thing I wanted so badly was gone forever. Each time I told someone it became more real to me. It forced me to accept this undeniable truth. And no matter how much I was consoled about "next time it'll work out" it'll never bring this baby back.

I kept trying to remain logical about it...It wasn't meant to be...It was for the best...Something was wrong with it...It was still early in the pregnancy...It could've been worse...

All of these things help, but not enough. The questions that flew through my mind that weekend were overwhelming. I went from complete sorrow to utter rage. Why did this happen to us? We are good people! What did I do wrong?! Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Why do I have to be a statistic? I don't care that it happens to 1 in 4 women. Why me? Why us? WHY?!

Then I began to feel contempt and jealousy for any pregnant woman or woman carrying a baby. She's not taking care of it. She's not a good mother. I could do so much better. This isn't fair. It isn't right. She doesn't deserve that baby.

Yes. I thought those things. I felt those things. I said those things. I spewed hatred for anyone who had what I lost. People who knew nothing of my situation. People blissfully unaware. People who had the most amazing gift of all.

I hated myself for thinking those thoughts. I hated the person I was becoming.

My dad used to say "it takes a significant emotional event to change a person." Those words rang through my ears as I contemplated whether or not I was to change. And what would I change into? A hateful, barren woman who avoided children at all costs? That's not who I want to be. I love kids and I always have. I've felt nothing but joy for parents-to-be.

My family and friends have tried their best to offer their help. Everyone has different ways of helping and all of them in their own way have helped me immensely whether they realize it or not.

My husband has been nothing but supportive these past few days. My personal comedian and entertainer. He's done everything he could to lift my spirits and help me get past this. I worry about him. He doesn't really talk about it, but I know he's trying to get through this just as I am. I don't know if I could've made it through this without him. He's been my rock. Even as I relapsed this past weekend into sobs of anger and sorrow he was there for me. Consoling me every step of the way. I've always known it, but this experience has shown me that we truly can get through anything together. We are an inseparable team.

I had my D&C a few days later. The medical term sounds so much nicer than what it really is. So much nice than "removing my dead baby from my womb." My D&C. I was scared and I was nervous. Without going into too much detail, I was put under full anesthesia and felt nothing but some cramps afterward. When I woke up my first thought was "it's done" and a tear filled my eye. But I quickly remembered where I was, and pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind. I was released the same day and brought home to rest.

Going back to work was nerve wrecking. I didn't think it would be. But the night before I hardly slept a wink. I was so worried about the stares, the thoughts. The looks of pity. I didn't want that. I just want to put it behind me. It was nothing like I pictured. I was accepted back to work just as I had been before. Nothing was mentioned. Nothing was said. It was just as I had requested and for that I'm unbelievably gracious.

I hope someday my dream will come true. But it doesn't change the fact that this baby is gone. What happens in Vegas, apparently does stay in Vegas. Because I will never hear my baby cry or hold it in my arms.

And I can never bring it back again. Ever. It's gone.

Sumre Star White