I’ve talked about my first miscarriage and how I grieved it, but I’ve never really opened up about my second miscarriage. Recently I shared a photo on the Real Mother group of a tattoo I got with my kid’s initials and two dots representing the babies I don’t get to hold this side of heaven. I had a few people ask about why I don’t talk much about the other miscarriage, and so I wanted to share with you why and also what it was like to lose yet another pregnancy. I know there are many others who have suffered multiple miscarriages.
Trigger Warning: There are graphic details in this post.
My first miscarriage was pretty horrific for me. What I didn’t share in my previous story was that after I had lost that baby, I bled a significant amount. In fact, I woke up in the middle of the night with a blood clot the size of a baseball in my underwear and so I went to the bathroom where I just kept bleeding to point where my eye sight started to go, the room was getting dark, and my body was feeling numb. I was blacking out, and my husband was asleep in bed. I knew that I needed to get help and yet I was too weak to cry out for help. So, I slowly belly crawled from the bathroom to the bedroom where my husband was to tell him I was going to pass out.
I was rushed to the hospital where I had to get an emergency D&C and almost needed a blood transfusion. The entire story feels heavy to me from beginning to end and diving into those details weighs on me.
Needless to say, I was terrified of miscarrying again.
When I thought I was pregnant again about six months after my first miscarriage, I took a pregnancy test and it was a faint positive. I took a few more to be sure, and they were all positive. I immediately told my husband, and we were elated and also terrified. I especially was because I did not want to experience what I already had once again. I was afraid of getting my hopes up.
I cried all-the-time the first few nights after I found out I was pregnant because I was so scared of another loss.
And then I started spotting a week later, and I had tears for another reason. I was replacing fear with fear. That’s a terrible place to live in by the way.
I knew in my heart that this pregnancy wasn’t going to last, but I was still hopeful. I called a few people to tell them what was going on and they all assured me it was probably nothing. But by the next day, I started bleeding heavy clots, and I knew right away it was going to be my second miscarriage.
I had no sooner found out I was pregnant than when I realized I wasn’t anymore.
That night I just wanted to be alone. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I didn’t want to see anyone.
I was horribly depressed.
My husband took the girls to the movies to give me space, and I took a bath and cried until there was nothing left in me I am sure.
Now let me explain why I don’t talk about this second miscarriage much. If I’m honest with you, it felt so different than my first…almost like it doesn’t count although it does and did. It was a quick pregnancy and a fast miscarriage. I didn’t dream for months about who this life was going to be. The second miscarriage experience was far, far, far less traumatic and I got pregnant with my son Wyatt only a few weeks later which then occupied my mind because I was scared of another miscarriage.
So you could say I didn’t have time to process through my second miscarriage. And frankly, I was still processing the trauma of my first miscarriage while dealing with my second and then I was on to my final pregnancy. It was a whirlwind of emotional ups and downs.
If there is one thing, I learned from multiple miscarriages is this: life is not guaranteed. Our kid’s lives are not guaranteed. And so, through my last pregnancy, I had to fight to stay positive. I learned to be thankful for each day I had with the baby inside me no matter how long I had. Whether it was five days, five years, or 500 years. It was an active choice because my anxiety of miscarriage would have taken me over. I had to learn to stop replacing fear with fear and choose my mindset.
Now I have my son, and I am so, so, so grateful, but I also recognize many of you reading this have suffered far more loss than I have or have recently gone through a miscarriage.
So, if you are reading this and you are suffering from multiple miscarriages, first, I want you to know that I’m sorry for your losses. Truly. If I were with you, I would hug you and sit silently with you. You could cry, you could talk, whatever it is. Miscarriage is so hard…and multiple miscarriages amplifies that pain to another degree.
Know this. You are loved, and you aren’t alone in your pain. I am with you as are so many other women.
Sending all of my hugs to you.