A Different Postpartum: I Had a Miscarriage and it Changed My Life Forever - Secretsofyve
Trigger warning: Miscarriage and pregnancy loss.
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Additional Read: How Loss Can Remind You of 6 Important Things in Life
Pregnancy Loss. Those were words I never expected to see printed in my doctor after-visit summary. I keep on saying that this isn't my story. This can't be the story I am telling. Let me start from the beginning.
One night in August 2020, I experienced some chest pains (that felt like the stiches we get on our sides) after an evening shower. My husband (Iggy) was in the living room with the kids therefore I took the opportunity to lie down on our bed in order to wait for the pain to subside. It was a perfect time to get some little rest as our children Sarah (5) and Franco (3) were playing after dinner. However, after a while, I realized that I couldn’t take deep breaths and the pain lingered so I called out to Iggy several times. At first, he didn’t hear me because the pain kept me from shouting. Eventually, he came into the room and decided I should go to the clinical decision unit at the Kaiser Medical Center which is also known as Urgent Care. He phoned my sister who lives close by (all my siblings do), and she immediately came over.
When we got there, he wheeled me in, but then had to leave. Due to the coronavirus (Covid-19), they could no longer allow extra visitors in the center even if one has an appointment. I checked in and they immediately started a full blood work-up (needed to rule out a heart attack) because I had mentioned that I had chest pains. They also inserted an IV, did an EKG and wanted to conduct a urine sample before they sent me to get an x-ray.
I kept Iggy informed and after some time, one of the physicians onsite came to speak with me regarding my results. He started off with the EKG which he said looked great and talked about the other tests. He then proceeded to say, “Now, I don’t know whether you knew this or not, but you are pregnant.” We had talked about trying for another baby this year but decided to wait till 2021 due to the pandemic. Obviously, it was meant to be just as we had initially planned. The nurse who was taking care of me, and with whom I had quickly bonded with, returned and exclaimed “Surprise!” We laughed and cried, and they prepared me to be discharge.
I waited till I was in the car to let Iggy know and we laughed about it and quickly went into prep mode. Once home, we told my eldest sister. About a week went by before we informed all our other family members and by that point I had nicknamed the baby "Bambino.”
Time went by and my son’s third birthday approached. Two days prior to that date, I started to experience cramp like pains. I wrote them off as the usual pains of the first trimester as my body adjusted to grow this new life, but when they became severe, I scheduled an appointment with my OBGYN. Due to the fact that she is always booked, I wasn’t sure that I would be able to see her so suddenly. Luckily, there was a cancellation and I was able to go in. She conducted an ultrasound and we saw the baby, although there was also a big cyst present. She mentioned that the pain I may be feeling might have been from the cyst pushing, but she couldn’t be sure. The pain subsided, but then a few days later, new symptoms began.
That Saturday I woke up, did some step-up exercises and went about my day. Later, Iggy and I took the kids to a private park then returned in the evening. While I was preparing to take a shower, I started dancing and when I took off my clothes, my heart stopped.
At first, I saw brown spots and immediately started crying. I called out for Iggy and he tried to hold me as I sank down to the floor. I knew something was wrong because this had never happened before. In the shower, more clots continued to fall, but they weren’t big. I managed to calm down and started to think positive thoughts. It was my third pregnancy, thus maybe some things would be different, I told myself.
By the next morning, I could barely breathe from anxiety and my friend who was also pregnant, told me I should go in to be checked (which is what the nurse on the help line had said the night before should I feel as though things were becoming worse). In a way, they had because the blood had now turned red. After a hysterical phone call with my parents and my eldest sister needing to watch our children once more, we went to urgent care. Once there, they checked my cervix which was still closed and the doctor there asked me to get some bloodwork done to monitor my HCG levels. According to the American Pregnancy Association, Human Chorionic Gonadotropin (HCG) is defined as the pregnancy hormone due to the fact that it comprises of cells formed in the placenta which nourishes an egg after it after conception (has been fertilized) and attaches to the uterine wall. During the first 8 to 10 or 11 weeks, HCG levels double every 48 hours, therefore, that is what we were hoping for.
I did my test, prayed and went home to rest. The next two days were the longest two days I have ever experienced. I spent them in bed in absolute agony (it felt like I was in early labor/labour), bleeding profusely, and full of uncertainty. The pain could also be described as severe period pain. I did A LOT of research, watched numerous videos, and stumbled upon a condition called subchorionic hematoma which I had hoped was what was happening. Tuesday morning arrived. One of my other sisters came over and I went in for the bloodwork. I had scheduled a 10am appointment with my doctor to go over the results and was told that my results would be ready in an hour; it was around 7 am. We returned home and I kept checking my phone every half hour to see the results, but they never appeared.
My doctor had a cancellation and called me earlier than expected. I will mention more of what she said later, but she told me that my levels had actually dropped from over 3000 to 900. Based on that, it was a clear indication that I was experiencing a miscarriage. I managed to get through the phone call but lost it after that. I texted my friend who had been constantly checking in to let her know and told her I needed some time.
The next couple of days were a blur and once again, I spent them in bed and in a lot of pain. My sisters came often to give Iggy a chance to go out while they watched the kids. My oldest sister brought food, vitamins (another friend also sent over more), and a book called “The Child I Never Knew.” I would recommend it as part of the grieving and healing process for anyone who has experienced a pregnancy loss or the loss of any infant.
I slowly started to send messages to everyone who I had told about my pregnancy to thank them for celebrating early with me and to let them know of our loss. I cried as I sent each message and remembered laboring to breathe through each stroke of the keys because it continued to reaffirm the reality I was living. As more people knew, well wishes followed; validating what had actually happened.
Some expressed their sympathy for my loss. Others expressed the same sympathy albeit accompanied by extra comments that sliced me each and every time. I know people meant well. I really do. But with every "these things happen" comment, I felt my anger being stirred again. The truth is that I DO know these things happen. In fact, it has been reported that 1 in 5 pregnancies end in a miscarriage and that number may be higher because some women do not even realize they are pregnant. According to the March of Dimes, 10% to 15% pregnancies will end in a miscarriage during the first trimester. However, that is not what I needed to hear.
Other comments included the following:
“At least you have your other children.”
“At least you weren’t really showing.”
“You can always try again.”
If someone lost a sibling or a parent, it would NEVER be appropriate for me to let them know that it is okay because at least they still have another sibling or one of their parents is still alive.
These facts did not diminish the pain I felt. The hollowness that began to overwhelm me. I actually felt and became numb. Numb to my other children's needs and feelings. Too numb to eat or be creative again. Too numb to run my nonprofit or carry on a conversation, and eventually physically numb enough to think I was having a stroke. I ended up in the emergency room (ER) several times after having severe pains in my chest and my limbs going numb. Many of the times, I thought I was having a heart attack or a stroke only for them to conclude that it was anxiety and sadness from the loss that was causing it all. In simple words, my heart was literally breaking.
The doctors and nurses informed me that I needed to try to calm down. However, everything started to also annoy me. The way my neighbors walked above us. The way my senses were still heightened and I was sensitive to smells. The way my breasts were still sore. How am I supposed to get over it all?
When I spoke to people in person, I remember pausing in between words to shake my head and say that I couldn't believe this was real. You mean that I won't bring my baby home in a few months?
The feelings of guilt kept my wound open. How could my body fail me after two healthy pregnancies? I remember feeling the warmth with each pad change and cursing that warmth for not staying in place in my womb to protect my baby. As someone had similarly said as she recounted her loss, this was a lifetime that had vanished. When it became too much and after my ER visits, I knew I needed some help. I called my insurance and they provided several options for me to receive assistance from a grief counselor, and I now speak with a professional counselor/therapist once a week.
Going back, I am so thankful for my gynecologist who had seen me throughout my previous two pregnancies. The day after my confirmed pregnancy loss appointment, she called me early in the morning and told me to give myself time to process and grieve. Even as a professional who has probably witnessed hundreds of cases like mine, her compassion and kindness shone through. She confirmed that a baby is a baby from the moment of conception and that my feelings of loss were valid. As we also ran through the facts, she said that miscarriages could be due to a number of factors ranging from chromosomes not lining up properly to the age of the mother.
In addition, she lovingly stated that sometimes your body just knows the pregnancy is not viable. The baby might have had health problems or experienced what people refer to as "birth defects." "I will take care," I heard myself promise as we ended the conversation. It comforted me to know that she was just a phone call or email away.
Afterwards that day, I thought deeply about our discussion. If my body knew what it needed to do, then I should trust it, right? The same body that had turned my womb into a tomb? The very same body that I accused of betraying me? Speaking of betrayal, I want to speak about my faith and it is alright if you don't believe. We are all still connected with the hurt that has brought us here (you as the reader and I as the author). I did question why this was happening because of the hurt, the horror and disbelief in the moment I witnessed what was left of our baby. That day, there were noises that came out of me that I have never heard before which all the more confirmed what had occurred. Grief had settled in full force.
How do you cope postpartum without a baby to show for it? How do you march on with the emptiness? There is no definitive answer.
However, I never blamed God nor cursed out the universe. I never asked mother nature why she dared to use my child as part of her process. I knew that my faith was the one to carry me forth. As prayers increased from loved ones, so did my belief. My belief in God. My belief in the power of prayer. My belief in healing. It was this belief that allowed me to ask God to give any strength I had left to my friend whose miscarriage symptoms appeared just a week after mine. Our babies were due to be born during the same time-frame and now we had lost them both.
As the days went by and the warmth return (literally as the temperatures had previously dropped), I felt myself starting to finally breathe. Although my ache had now transformed into a physical pain, I began to feel a sense of calm slowly trickle in. There are days when I am convinced that maybe it was all an illusion. Due to the fact that it happened so fast, I start to wonder whether it was real. Was my pregnancy real?
When I see Bambino's new clothes that I had gotten or the sweet socks that I keep close by, I am reminded that it was. How does life actually work? How is it that someone so tiny could affect me so profoundly? It was during this time, when the hurt was so deep that I had to relearn how to accept help. I had to forgive myself just for thinking that I had to forgive my body the same way I would forgive myself for any other mistakes I had made. But, I did not make a mistake, and my body did not fail me. It carries me through each and every day, and even though I didn’t see it at the time, I owe it respect.
Having seen our tiny baby after he or she came out in the bathroom, I am now in unbelievable awe (if I can even call it that) for how my children were formed at that stage to the noisy babes they are today. How delicate they and how delicate we all were. How very PRECIOUS life is.
I will draw strength from those before me who may have not had the options or support I have now. I am speaking of my ancestors and lineage of women. I think of how my grandmother or her mother or her grandmother in the village farms in Kenya probably suffered in silence. I think of my aunt who had a stillborn baby at 9 months. Of my other aunt who had a tubal pregnancy. I will mourn and I will grieve because they may not have had a chance. I will share so that others can know that they are not alone. Thank you for listening to my story.
I created this product during this year's social justice issues to allow pregnant women of color to display that their children already mattered even in utero. After I experienced a miscarriage, I knew that this product belonged to all expectant mothers to be because our children mattered. Hurtful comments regarding how it is okay because I hadn't given birth yet or how I could always have other children reminded me even more of the value of the life that I lost inside of me; a life that will always matter to me. So mothers everywhere, of all colors and races, wear this with love as you grow the little one in your womb. If you have little children, let them wear the youth version, because even though they are yet to grow and make decisions, their little lives matter as well.
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Yve (pronounced Eve) is a Public Health Specialist, Content Creator, Podcaster (www.secretsofyve.com ) and the CEO of the PATESI Foundation (www.patesifoundation.org) and PATESI LLC (www.patesillc.com ). Her family’s blog is located at: www.parentsofdragons.com
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