Sharing Miscarriage, Stillbirth, and Infertility Stories to Help and Heal after Pregnancy Loss

Miscarriage and Stillbirth Stories - Grief, Hope, and Healing

After my first miscarriage, I scoured the internet to find miscarriage stories. I needed to know my pain was valid, my grief was warranted, and that I wasn’t alone. I often say that I devoured stories like medication in those early days—somehow they helped heal me as I absorbed them into my broken heart and assimilated my own experiences in light of the larger human story.

In the years since (and through two more miscarriages), I’ve learned how common miscarriage is. Depending on which research you go with, professionals estimate anywhere from 15-25% of pregnancies end in loss. (Many say the number hikes to 50% or higher if you count pregnancies lost before a woman takes her first pregnancy test.) Now that I’m on the wrong end of those statistics, those stats no longer shock me. My own loss has exposed me to the huge, hidden grief that women (and men) share all over the world.

The problem with the ‘hush’ around miscarriage stories

Issues of fertility and reproduction are intensely private for most of us. They are also mysterious and confusing unless we are informed and feel permission to speak openly about our experiences. The paradox is not lost on me.

The problem with keeping the pain of miscarriage hushed is that it breeds shame around a type of pain and a grief so common to the human experience, and shame has the ability to cripple us from the inside out. (This applies to other forms of pregnancy loss and infertility, too.) The stigma we’re used to hearing whispers in a hurting mother’s ears: You couldn’t do it—you couldn’t stay pregnant. What kind of a woman can’t do what she was ‘meant’ to do? Your loss is insignificant. Your grief response is silly. Your body is broken. 

Thankfully the internet age has given rise to honest and vulnerable talk about many issues women face that have previously been considered taboo. For countless women miscarriage sits near the top of the list. Normalizing this aspect of womanhood (and parenthood) is liberating because it affirms we need not be ashamed of that which is beyond our control.

Sharing our miscarriage and stillbirth stories helps and heals

While preparing to write my book, Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving with Hope after Miscarriage and Loss, I surveyed more than 750 women and men about their pregnancy loss experiences. As they shared their miscarriage stories with me, I became convinced all over again that sharing our stories to break the silence around miscarriage and loss both helps and heals us, personally and collectively.

The following are a sampling of those stories, but they are only a slice of a much bigger conversation. In response to this need, we are launching Our Scarlett Stories—a community dedicated to giving platform to stories of grief and hope and the grace holding us together after miscarriage and other forms of pregnancy loss. Please join us there.

Miscarriage stories

Lauren’s miscarriage story of joy intermixed with grief

“It usually hits me in the middle of the night when the house is quiet and everyone else is sleeping. It burns in my throat, and my chest gets tight so I can’t breathe. The tears roll back into my hair. I put my arm over open my mouth and try not to sob. And then I start to get a headache, and I tell myself I can’t do this—can’t get a migraine from the grief. On August 23rd, 2013 we cried because there was no heartbeat on the monitor. On August 24th we cried as we said goodbye to our boy whom I had carried in my womb for 18 weeks. In September I cried because my belly should have been big and round. But it was empty and flat. As flat as it has been after having three babies. I couldn’t help but imagine it an empty black cave. In November, I cried on my oldest’s birthday. Because a dear friend had her baby that day too. And I was fine. I was happy. So happy for them. But I couldn’t stop crying as I stood in the shower thinking about bringing them a meal, wanting to hold this brand new baby girl. Is it appropriate to ask for a private moment with the baby so you don’t have to bawl with an audience? “I just need a second with your 5-day old infant.” Probably not. Why do we insist on saying we’re fine when we’re not?” —Lauren DeVries (read more of Lauren’s miscarriage story here.)

Sarah’s early miscarriage story and shock

“I missed a period a few months ago, took more pregnancy tests than I could count for several weeks till, finally, I ended up with a positive test. This was our fourth pregnancy, and it was a shock. Not what we were expecting, to put it mildly. But, a few days later, I started to bleed, and a few doctor’s visits and some blood work confirmed that we had miscarried, most likely in the first month. This, too, was a shock…and what do you tell people? How do you explain that there was life, and now it’s gone? I got home from one doctor’s appointment, lay on my bed, bleeding, and wondered at the irony of it—the body that had conceived, grown, birthed, and nursed three babies was now erasing all evidence of a fourth. It was so early into the pregnancy, we didn’t even get to find out the gender.” —Sarah Guerrero (Read more of Sarah’s miscarriage story.)

Chantelle’s infertility story and reoccurring grief

“I always wonder if my loss counts, like somehow it’s less devastating than having a miscarriage or a stillbirth. And how would I know? Maybe it is. But it’s my loss and has been the greatest grief of my life. No one talks about this stuff when you’re on the other side of it. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought I’d get married, grow my career to the place I felt I could quit to have babies, and then have those babies never come. My loss happens over and over again every month. It’s the loss of a dream and an expectation and even my ability to feel like I fit in with all the rest of the women around me. It’s also been a loss within my marriage, while at the same time has brought us closer together. Being infertile has been the heaviest disappointment of my life. And yet even in all of that I’ve learned that there is life beyond the womb. I’m still learning that, but my future is hopeful… even if different to what I once thought.” —Chantelle Thomas

Kathryn’s miscarriage story of letting go of control

“Weeks 7-9 are my trigger time. I rushed out of the conference room with the image of a mother sitting by her baby in the plastic NICU bassinet. Down the hallway I saw my supervisor’s open office door. He talked slowly, helping me find my breath in order to slow the panic from taking over. This was my fifth pregnancy. I dared not hope she could be the third born. How desperately we look for answers, for a way to know why it happened or what will happen. It was first a miscarriage at seven weeks, then a live and perfect birth, then a miscarriage at nine weeks, then a live and perfect birth and now…now what? We made it through week 7, then week 9, then to the second trimester. During my third trimester, my friend learned her baby, at 37 weeks was stillborn. Will the peace never come? We want to hold on and have control, to explain and predict, but it is out of our hands. Even when they are born, as was my alive and perfect daughter from that fifth pregnancy, they are never fully in our hands. We have to let go, do the best we can, and keep our courage to try again.” —Kathryn Anne Casey (Read more of Kathryn’s miscarriage story.)

Maria’s story of infant loss at 36 weeks after 90 sweet minutes

“True confession? Sometimes I go into #infantloss on Instagram just to make myself cry. I cry for the pain of every single Momma that posts in there.  I cry for the pain of this world, that for as long as we are here Mothers will lose their babies.  But I also cry to feel him close again. My tears bring him back.  For only a moment, with those hot tears on my face, I remember what it felt like to hold him. To kiss his cheeks and to play with his toes. I miss him so much.  Every. Single. Day. Yet there is this thing that happens when we have hope. This thing that happens when we believe in a God who is all powerful and all knowing and we can still trust Him even in our loss and our suffering.  This thing creates in us something beautiful.” —Maria Furlough (Read more of Maria’s baby loss story.)

Sky’s recurrent miscarriage story

“September’s friendliness welcomes in the new. The trees wave more often than in summer, the geese call out their pleasantries on their way out, unripened colors crop up. This is the month that Lulu was due, the early beginnings of a fresh season. Instead we lost her in February, “I cant find a heartbeat,” the cold settling in all around. We laid her in a fresh bed of soil, planted a Wisteria that blooms purple in its time. The kids play all around and in her soil, plastic construction trucks and plucked buds find their home in her pot. Butterflies flit around her curly vines; the curly hair I imagine her to have had. A few months later we are surprised to be pregnant again, another chance to hold a new life. I wait and watch and finally hear the strong whir of a healthy heart. This baby waves and bounces. But September finds us having to say goodbye, again. Our baby boy has gone to play in bluer skies with the ones who wait for him. I deliver him wholly, second-trimester; his tiny body, a perfect plum plucked too soon. We haven’t picked a tree for Will yet, the fourth in our backyard garden, his ashes sit on the mantel my husband built for him, it faces the window where hummingbirds hover, their wings a holy heartbeat that let me know how close God is in our love and loss.” —Sky Sanchez-Fischer

Cynthia’s stories of varied grief responses after miscarriage

“I lost two different babies in the same week, four years apart. The first loss broadsided my joy like an eighteen-wheeler on black ice. The second time, grief wore clothes of disbelief. A repeat miscarriage hurt just as much as a first. My medical chart now contained the foul words, history of loss. The second time my body let go when it should have held fast, I was less surprised but still aching. Bracing ourselves for the impact of pain never really lessens the blow, does it? Grief clothed in anger and self-preservation is a real thing. It’s tempting to rely on our own ability to cope quickly; we’re frustrated when we can’t take any side streets to being okay again. But the process of pain is one that cannot be rushed. In the crushing realization that it truly still hurts— that is where we find Him. Deep in the pain that is far from fading, is the beautiful mystery that He is doing something new. I now know that it takes how ever long it takes. One day the wait will be over. We will see with our eyes what we felt in our souls all along. We will agree with C.S. Lewis and say, “Things are far better ahead than anything we leave behind.” So here we wait for that day. We press on holding both the joy and the pain. The grief and the hope of what will be.” —Cynthia M. Stuckey (read more of Cynthia’s miscarriage story here.)

Summer’s ectopic pregnancy story:

“I had never even heard the term ‘ectopic pregnancy’ when the doctor pulled me aside into his office after my ultrasound. I remember feeling like I was outside of myself or like it was a nightmare. He said I had to have surgery to remove the pregnancy or else my life would be in danger but all I could think was is he asking me to have an abortion? Ultimately I did have the surgery, but I still sometimes wonder if there was another way. Mostly I know the truth, but I still have my days. In the beginning I struggled with so much guilt as well as anger toward God. But then I began to connect with the pregnancy loss community and realize there are thousands of women going through the same thing as I am. Knowing I wasn’t the only one was so reassuring. Being connected to others while I grieved has helped me not only learn how to process my grief, but has helped me grow in my soul and in hope for the future. I couldn’t have shouldered this grief in secret.” —Summer Adams

A story of infertility

“I wake up feeling gross and groggy. I head off to work and am greeted by my good friend and colleague who’s coming up to eighteen weeks of pregnancy and she’s holding the cake she made for morning tea for her big reveal of the gender. As morning tea comes around I brace myself with a big smile to go in for the big reveal. The middle is blue and it’s a boy. I stand around smiling, sharing my congrats, looking at the latest scan, and ohhhhh-ing and ahhhh-ing. I look at my watch and think I’ve done my fair share of joining in and slip out to the restroom to find that yep… another month and one more chance gone for becoming pregnant. I feel myself beginning to get angry… There’s been so many moments over the last few years that have been a challenge. It’s hard because you don’t want to stand on a roof and yell, “look at me—poor me—I want kids but for some unknown reason God hasn’t given them to me!” … Sometimes I think being around Christians is harder because they’ve got these expectations that you’re meant to have kids. So many assume that we’re newlyweds because we haven’t got them. Some have the nerve to ask,” do you want kids?” It hurts so much because who doesn’t want kids?” —Anonymous (read more of her infertility story here.)

Elli’s story of acknowledging her pain of miscarriage years later

“Eleven years (and three healthy children) on, I struggle to admit that my miscarriage was any kind of big deal. I know women and families (heroes) who have suffered so, so much more, and those who are still battling. I feel embarrassed to mention it. To make a ‘thing’ of it. But excuses are not necessary. No—more than that—excuses are dangerous and limiting. They separate us from each other. They diminish our experiences and compel us to keep our true selves hidden. Excusing our pain away, placing it out of sight to make ourselves and others feel comfortable, is stopping us really living. While we tell ourselves: my suffering isn’t bad enough to justify acknowledgment, or everybody else seems to be fine with it, so I shouldn’t make a fuss, or, I have so many other good things in my life, I cannot possibly complain.… no one else can every really know us. And we cannot know anyone else. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating: trying to be perfect will only separate us, keep us from each other. Because you cannot touch anybody else’s pain, when you refuse to acknowledge your own.” —Elli Johnson (read more of Elli’s miscarriage story here.)



Update May 2018:

Resources to Help You Heal

For further resources to navigate grief after miscarriage and pregnancy loss, or to learn how to best support a friend experiencing loss, please visit my Miscarriage Stories and Resources page. You will also find a free grief journal and a free 7-day devotional.

If you’d like to go deeper in exploring how to grieve with hope, I’ve written a whole book for you:  Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving with Hope after Miscarriage and Loss (available at all major retailers).

Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving with Hope after Miscarriage and Loss by Adriel Booker


Update May 2020:


Grief Support Groups

Join us for an 8-week “Deep Dive” grief support group to help you navigate life after pregnancy loss. Find out more here.

June Deep Dive grief group with Adriel Booker


Pregnancy Loss Community

Join us at the kindest place on the internet: Our Scarlett Stories – online community, resource library, and more.

Our Scarlett Stories Pregnancy Loss Community with Adriel Booker



Featured photo by: Kseniya Petukhova

About Author

Adriel Booker is an author, speaker, and advocate based in Sydney, Australia who believes storytelling, beauty, and the grace of God will change the world. Adriel has become a trusted voice in areas of motherhood and parenting, Christian spirituality, and global women's issues. She's also known for her work with the Love A Mama Collective—serving under-resourced women in developing nations through safe birth initiatives—as well as her years spent as a Bible teacher and leadership coach. Her latest book is Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving with Hope after Miscarriage and Loss and she's made the companion grief journal available for free. Find Adriel across all social media platforms at @adrielbooker or sign up for LoveNotes, Adriel's 'secret posts' that aren't published anywhere else online. ✌️


  • Katie Marson
    1 November 2017 at 5:10 pm

    Im writting this for misscarrage and infant loss awareness month. I want to tell my story of the experiences I went through as a first time mom and I want to help out others if I can. I’ll start by a little history of my husband and I. We became friends in 2005 in high school and started to date 2006 the summer before senior year. Being high school sweet hearts we had a lot of growing up to do together with statistics stacked against us. We got married in 2009 and a year later my husband joined the United States Navy. Our lives were going just the way we wanted and full of love. While my husband was in gunnery school I went to visit, he then informed me he wanted to start our very own lil family. I thought he was crazy and I thought I was even crazier for agreeing. One month later at 22 years old I found out I was pregnant and we couldn’t have been more happier. At 4 months we surprised all of our family that we were pregnant! We had so much support and love from everyone. The pregnancy was so easy I only had two symptoms which was extreme tiredness which I mean my body is making a human so that’s understandable and my nose could smell 100 miles away. Thought to myself this baby making is pretty dang easy. Then I hit 30 weeks and I started swelling everywhere and had horrible headaches. I knew deep down something was wrong. I went to the hospital to check my blood pressure. The nurses used two different blood pressure machines because they thought the first one was broken. My blood pressure was extremely high, so high that the nurses had never seen it that high before. I had preeclampsia. About 10 minutes later they were wrapping my bed with cushion because they believed I could start having seziers any moment now. My husband and I knew at that moment our evening just changed and we needed to contact the family. They ended up giving me a shot for my blood pressure and a shot to jump start the development of our baby girls lungs. I then started to throw up due to not eatting and the medicine. Our OBGYN finally made it to the hospital and after 10 mins of her chasing the babies heartbeat around on my tummy she said it’s time to go into surgery and get your baby girl out. The nurses in the hospital said she can’t deliver since the ambulance wasn’t on its way yet to transport our baby to the children’s hospital. My doctor looked at them and said very firmly “you should have requested it as soon as you got her blood pressure. This mother is my number 1 priority and her little baby girl is hers. We are going to surgery now!” I then signed the papers of liability on my own life which was very scary. Iv never been scared of doctors, needles, or anything to do with my body however not knowing how my life is going to be once I wake up was the scariest. My doctor rushed me in for emergency c-section and it was just like the movies. Laying there with super bright lights in my eyes and the doctors having me count down, it seemed like a dream. When I woke up I vaguely remember my grandma talking to me next to my bed. My husband comes in and says our baby girl is fine and they are getting her ready for transport. He got to see her and take a few pictures. He got the cuttest picture of her staring right at him even though there was 5 other people around her. The nurses then start unplugging everything on my bed and rushing me down the hallway. They said they are taking me to see her before they transport her. Everything was such a blur from just coming out of surgery and my blood pressure still extremely high. As soon as my bed is in the same room with my daughter I hear the nurses call out our baby girls time of death. Knowing what that means I was in complete SHOCK and confusment. Next thing I hear is my husband so distraught and angry. Then my bed is wisked away. It wasn’t till I saw all our family standing in the hallway that I just lost it. I couldn’t breath and my whole life just changed in a matter of 6 hours. The next few days were such a blur. Our baby girl was brought to us a little later. I didn’t want to let her go, she was the cuttest little thing I had ever seen. Family came to support us and see our baby girl. After some time a pastor came and prayed for all of us and shortly after we had to say goodbye to our precious baby girl. Couldn’t believe only after 30 weeks of pregnancy and such a short life, how could she have impacked our lives forever. My body knew I no longer was carrying our baby so I started to produce milk. The disappointment, anger, sadness and most of all emptiness hit hard. Here I was trying to recover physically and emotionally drained I was producing milk for no baby. Was definitly the hardest thing ever. Four days later I was able to go home with blood pressure medicine however I didn’t want to go home. We lived 5 minutes away and it was the longest drive of my life. So much going through my mind. I was so angry that I was going home so empty. My blood pressure took 2 weeks be in the normal range again. My husband was so supportive and as much sadness he was going through he stuck strong for me, we stuck strong together. Family and friends also were there for us in such a hard time in our life. Which was amazing.
           A year later we got pregnant again with our hopes and dreams high. Our second was diagnosed with down syndrome. With the 1st pregnancy and now this we were told it wasn’t going to be a easy pregnancy ] lots of problems may happen. We lost the second baby. Doctors told us both pregnancies were not related to eachother. If anyone has gone through this you know you ask yourself why? Why me? What did I do to deserve this? Did I do something wrong? Was there something I could have done? Then you start the accusing yourself and thinking it’s all your fault. Such a horrible feeling. Let me say this, everyone mourns differently. There is no explanation on why you and no it’s not your fault. Life can be so confussing, cruel and heartbreaking. With all the heartache there is also joy, happiness and love. I started reading others stories and as much as it hurts not wanting other to go through the same pain as I, I realized I wasn’t allone. Before I had gone through all of this I had no idea so many women have lost so many babies, no matter what the circumstances were. I was so surprised I never heard about it until after it happened to me. So this is me speaking out and wanting to let all those mothers and fathers of precious baby angels know YOU ARE NOT ALONE! I want my story to be heard and if anyone needs to talk, vent or just cry I am here for you! The sad, depressing, loneliness and emptiness will slowly fade away. The best advice I can give to those parents out there is to stick together. You both are going through different emotions however its the same emptiness. If my husband and I didn’t stay strong for eachother we would have lost our beautiful love story. As parents losing a baby is going to be one of the hardest life experiances if not the hardest you will go through. Stay strong and go through the heartache together. My husband and I both know we will be parents one day and we are so beyond excited for that. As of right now we are living our love story every day at a time to the fullest. Thanks for reading and I will be there for anyone that needs me to be!
    Sincerely Katherine Marie
    RIP Baby Ella Marie our precious Angel!

  • Suleima
    2 April 2019 at 6:13 pm

    It’s been officially 3 weeks since I miscarried my first baby. I may have recovered physically but emotionally I’m still trying to comprehend the unfairness I’m feeling with not just God but with my body as well. Right now it seems that everyone else’s pregnancy’s are healthy and continuing… its like everyone else is having babies but me. Everyone keeps telling me this is all a part of “gods plan” and that “it’s very common to have a miscarriage”.. but just because it’s common it doesn’t make it any easier. I used to love passing by the baby sections just to look at the small clothes and baby gadgets (even before I was pregnant ) and now I can’t fanthom the idea of even walking by there, I feel sick to my stomach and I feel like my throat has been filled with cotton . What sucks the most about all of this is the fact that I can’t seem to escape the pregnancy updates… what was once the highlight of my week is now the dreaded email about my “pregnancy growth” I keep trying to delete the updates but part of me wants to hold on to what is left of this baby, even if I can’ no longer physically carry it. I just hope that whatever I’m going through passes, and that maybe some day I can finally get the courage to be happy again and possibly try for another baby.

    • Adriel Booker
      1 May 2019 at 10:16 pm

      Hi Suleima. I’m so very sorry for your heartbreak and your loss. You’re right—miscarriage is common. But that doesn’t make it “God’s will” nor does it make it any easier. It’s just plain hard. I’m glad you’re giving yourself permission to feel and to grieve. This is important and it is part of the way you’re honouring your baby. I’m sure that the way you honour your baby will change over time, but there is no “right” way (or one way) to grieve. Be kind to yourself. And if you haven’t already, I hope you will pick up a copy of my book, Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving with Hope after Miscarriage and Loss. You can find it anywhere books are sold online: I pray it’s a great blessing to you as you learn to walk through your grief. It’s the book I wish someone had handed to me after my first miscarriage.

  • Liz
    14 November 2019 at 6:20 am

    When I was younger, I didn’t even want kids. Then I met my husband and something changed. I wanted to create a person that was half of both of us. We got married and started planning our life and family. It took us 3 months to conceive our son. My pregnancy was perfect and we were blessed with a healthy, baby boy in 2017. After his first birthday, we toyed with the idea of adding a sibling. We weren’t in a hurry but not “not trying”. In the beginning, it was a bit of a relief that it didn’t happen quickly, however as the months rolled on, we got more and more nervous. I was still nursing and my cycle hadn’t returned. By my son’s 2nd birthday, I went to the doctor. My hormones were crazy and I was put on birth control to kickstart a period. I had my first period in 3 years in July. In August, I had my first real, spontaneous period. I have never been so relieved to have a period!
    In September, I found out I was pregnant! I found out very early- only 10 DPO. I told my husband and son and we were so happy. However, this pregnancy filled me with so much anxiety. Perhaps it was the naivety of being pregnant for the first time, but I didn’t remember feeling that way with my son. I checked for blood every time I went to the restroom. Every time. I took 18 pregnancy tests in 4 weeks. We weren’t telling any of our family or friends initially, but as the weeks went by and my tummy grew, we weren’t able to hide this one as much as we wanted to. Second pregnancy bumps make their debut much earlier than the first time, for me anyway. When we told people, I always said I was “cautiously optimistic”. Around my 6th week, my anxiety was growing. I requested an HCG blood test from my doctor. It was 78,000- well within the norms. Our first appointment was scheduled during my 8th week of pregnancy.
    That morning I dressed carefully. As I was leaving, I saw a pack of tissues. I put them in my bag, “just in case”. My husband met me at the OB (who I LOVE) and we prepared to see our sweet baby! After the usual questions, we got to it. There was our little peanut on the screen! I will never forget how loud the silence was as we waited for that beautiful heartbeat sound. It never came. Our doctor reasoned that perhaps my dates were off and it was too early- baby was measuring 6 weeks 1 day, according to my DLP, I should have been 8 weeks 5 days. But I was tracking that month. I was temping and using OPKs, so I knew this was not the case. Still, it was unconfirmed at that point. I was told to have a blood test every 72 hours to check for rising HCG and scheduled for another ultrasound the following week. Though the doctor couldn’t confirm miscarriage at that point, I knew in my heart it was over. It’s strange, when you’re pregnant, of course miscarriage is in the back of your head- it’s the worst possible scenario. But still I was shocked. I was angry- Why me?! I had a perfect pregnancy last time! How could this happen?
    The next 3 weeks were a sad blur. The ‘Missed Miscarriage’ was confirmed the following week, though my body showed no signs that there was no longer another life inside me. I had no bleeding or cramping. My options were to wait for a natural miscarriage, take medication to move it along or have a surgical procedure. I chose the medication, as it would allow me to have more say in when it happened. Besides, my body obviously was not getting the hint on its own, who knows how long it would take naturally.
    I went home and took the pills. By the way, I did not take these orally…
    I was expecting horrible cramping and Carrie-like bleeding. I lay down and waited. I had some light cramping and spotting. I waited and waited for the horrendous pain and river of blood I had read about. It didn’t happen. 24 hours after my first dose, I took the second. Perhaps the second dose is worse than the first? That day was much like the first one, though that night, the bleeding got heavier. I went to use the restroom around midnight and suddenly, something came out. Most likely my baby. It felt harder than a clot but honestly, there was too much blood to really see what it looked like, and for that I am somewhat grateful. I started hyperventilating and didn’t know what to do. I put down the toilet lid and told my husband. We didn’t know what do. We decided to flush. I’m still not sure if that was the right thing, but at the time, I wasn’t ready to really examine the contents. I cried and cried for some time but felt a weird relief after it was over. Bleeding was light for the most part. Unfortunately, my next ultrasound showed there was more “products of conception” than there should have been. The medication did not work all the way. My options were a D&C or to take another dose of medication. Though in some ways, I wanted to just get it over with, any surgery on the cervix has risks. I decided to try the medication one more time.
    This time, the bleeding was substantial and constant. Huge gushes all day and night. One night, I awoke to intense pain and pressure in my vagina. I had contraction like cramps and the pain reminded me of labor pains. I went to the restroom and as I sat down, something large plopped into the toilet. There was so much blood. Again, a weird relief. The pain and cramping stopped. I cleaned up and went to bed. The bleeding remained steady.
    Thankfully, my last ultrasound showed a significant improvement in the amount of blood and tissue remaining. I was offered Methergine to stop the bleeding and I am grateful for it. My doctor recommends waiting 2-3 cycles before trying again. I am impatient, but anxious. For the next few months, I will do my best to heal and prepare my body to try again. I have baby weight, but no baby. My heart is broken and I’m not okay. I think I will be one day, but not right now. I don’t cry as often anymore, but I get a lump in my throat when I see families with more than one child. Seeing siblings playing (or even fighting) breaks my heart, because my son may never have that. I am making an effort to be more grateful for what I have instead of focusing on what I’ve lost. I am in the ‘fake it to make it’ stage of this right now, but I am hopeful I’ll get there.
    Some thoughts on miscarriage and loss:
    • Statistics are bullshit- until they apply to you. I had heard of the 1 in 4 number, but for some reason, I still never thought it would happen to me.
    • Supposedly, my chances of a second miscarriage are low, however, as I said above, statistics are bullshit.
    • Miscarriage has robbed me of the joy of pregnancy. IF I get pregnant again, I will never be excited about an ultrasound. Each appointment could tell me the news I hope I never hear again.
    • I only speak in IFs now. I will never confidently say “when” – “IF I get pregnant”, “IF the baby is born in ______”

    ** I don’t know the gender of the baby that I lost, but my heart says she was a girl. I bought a charm to add to my “Landon” necklace that says “Sweet Pea”- the size she was when she passed. I will carry her in my heart for as long as I live.


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