|
By: Rachel McCormack, CNM Many wonder why they have had an early pregnancy loss. Why does it happen? Could I have done something to prevent it? Did I do something wrong? As a midwife, I tell my patients they did nothing wrong. Often, miscarriages happen for unknown reasons. There is a lot of research focused on early pregnancy loss, and a lot of it we still do not quite understand. I wish there was a definite answer as to why miscarriage happens or that there was something we could do to prevent it, but unfortunately for most early losses, there are not. This is understandably hard for a lot of parents to hear. It is hard to lose your baby, no matter how many weeks old. Early pregnancy loss is defined as a loss in the first trimester. Unfortunately, early pregnancy loss is common and happens in about 10% of pregnancies, according to the American College of Obstetrics and Gynecologists. A little over half of miscarriages are caused by an abnormal number of chromosomes during fertilization. We do not have answers as to why the other half are lost. Many wonder if certain activities or what they ate or drank caused the loss. The answer is usually no. Exercise, sex, drinking coffee, working, etc., are unlikely the cause of a miscarriage. An early pregnancy loss is usually a one-time event, and most women continue to have successful pregnancies. Those with recurrent pregnancy loss, which is uncommon, can be tested to rule out certain factors, but they can still have successful pregnancies. The time around a miscarriage is difficult for parents and their families. Health care providers can help answer questions you may have and also prepare you for future pregnancies. It is best to wait a few menstrual cycles before trying to become pregnant again to allow your body time to heal. It is recommended that you take a prenatal vitamin, eat a well-balanced diet, and exercise while trying to conceive. You should also see your doctor at least once a year for an annual exam and to be screened for conditions such as diabetes, high cholesterol, and so forth. If you have diabetes, cholesterol or any other existing medical conditions, follow up with your provider to help in the management of them, for they can also increase your risk of early pregnancy loss. If trying to conceive it is good to note that alcohol, tobacco, and drugs have been linked to the risk of early pregnancy loss, but the research is still unclear on whether it does or does not (ACOG). Medical professionals recommend avoiding alcohol, tobacco, and drugs in pregnancy to decrease complications that may arise from them. Support groups can also be helpful by providing a place to hear other parents’ stories and sharing your own story. It helps to know that you are not alone. Although your little one may be gone, they are never forgotten. My Baby has Wings Each pregnancy is a joy A blessing for parents A time of anticipation and excitement A time for new beginnings A time to learn new things To dream of the future together But then something happened My baby is there no more How can this be? My baby was just inside me? Confused Lost I don’t understand what just happened? What did I do wrong? I sit with my head in my lap praying for help Desperately searching for answers I am alone Sitting in silence I feel weak But then I am told There is nothing I did wrong Other women have experienced this loss too I did nothing wrong I am not alone The future brings hope again I can try again Even though you are no longer here with me You are never forgotten For my baby has wings 
Rachel McCormack is a certified nurse midwife serving in Hillsdale, Michigan.
0 Comments
By: Emily Carrington EPLA President and Founder  We mourn with Chrissy Teigen I didn’t notice her socks. Not until a post from An Unexpected Family Outing showed up on my Facebook feed.
The post starts simply: “You see those socks on Chrissy Teigen’s feet? I know those socks.” I gasped. I know those socks too. I know them well. I didn’t know other people knew those socks. My socks were blue. I was wearing them when I woke up from my D&C six years ago after my first miscarriage. Only a few days earlier I had been diagnosed with a missed miscarriage at what I thought was 11 weeks pregnant. The baby was only measuring at 8 weeks, and there was no heartbeat. After a very dark week full of research, questions, and tears, we decided that the D&C was the best option. My husband and I showed up to the surgical center on a sunny Friday morning in early May. The facility seemed to host a number of general low risk surgeries. It felt strange to sit there among the patients waiting for what seemed like unimportant procedures. They called me back to pre-op and my husband was allowed to come with me. They gave me a robe and asked me to change. Once I was dressed and back in bed they went through all of the typical pre-surgery routines. But nothing felt routine about it. They were going to take my dead baby out. How could everyone be so calm? My husband was sent to the waiting room with a buzzer, and I was wheeled away. They moved me into the operating room, and my doctor came in and sat down at the foot of the bed. His was the first familiar face I had seen. They started the anesthesia, and I didn’t believe I would fall asleep. I woke up alone in a post-op recovery area, and a nurse offered me snacks and a drink. My husband arrived within minutes. I remember the blue socks. Everything was so cold, so routine, so sterile. The blue socks were warm and cozy. The warmest and coziest socks I have ever owned. And they served as the first comfort I had received since my miscarriage diagnosis earlier that week. I gasped. I know those socks too. I know them well. I didn’t know other people knew those socks. Once I fully woke up, we left the surgical center and were home by lunch. I had a strange attachment to those blue socks. I almost felt guilty for liking them; they seemed like a souvenir from an event I never wanted to remember. Six and a half years later more healing came as I read the post about Chrissy Teigen’s socks from An Unexpected Family Outing. It reminded me that even though my loss was deeply personal and therefore “unique,” I was not alone in my experience, down to the socks on my feet. -------- Original Post: “You see those socks on Chrissy Teigen's feet? I know those socks. Rubbery bottoms, thin cotton. Presented to you in a sterile plastic package. Somehow they end up on your feet. Maybe it was a nurse, maybe it was your partner who put them there. Not really warm, not really comfy, but still you wear them. Those socks. I've literally walked in those same socks as Chrissy Teigen. It's a terrible thing we have in common. Because even though our experiences were different, we know the same heartbreak. Both of us know what it's like to hold our babies for the first, last, and only time. Both of us know what it's like to enter a hospital pregnant and leave without your baby. Both of us know what it's like to wear those socks. And we're not alone. Because even if you didn't wear the socks. Even if your baby died at home. Even if your baby died at 4 weeks or 12 weeks or 40 weeks. You still know. You know the heartache. You know the emptiness. You know the heavy, heavy grief of a parent living without their baby. You know. I know. Chrissy knows. And because of this, we are never truly alone. Emily Carrington is a freelance writer, wife, mother, and founder of the EPLA. By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor October is pregnancy loss awareness month, and our culture has come a long way in understanding miscarriage over the last few years. With high profile celebrities openly talking about losing their babies, more people recognize just how frequent it is and are willing to have conversations. Miscarriage is less taboo than it used to be. The Early Pregnancy Loss Association celebrates this progress. But we have so much work left to do. Too many grieving families fall through the cracks between organizations or friends that could help, and are left alone to pick up the pieces. Too many careless words are uttered. Too many people have harmful misconceptions that shove miscarriage back into the shadows. In October, we remember your babies and reaffirm our commitment to our core values. AFFIRMING LIFE Early pregnancy loss is the loss of a unique and infinitely valuable life often bringing great grief to women and families as they suffer this loss. BEARING BURDENS Women and families experiencing early pregnancy loss are carrying the weight of death. In isolation, this weight seems too great for one to bear. But together, when we carry one another's burdens, the weight is eased by making room for peace and hope. LOVING PEOPLE Early pregnancy loss brings anger, confusion, frustration, and sorrow. These emotions can lead to both emotional sensitivity and a hardening heart in order to cope with the grief. To meet their unique needs during this time, women and families should be treated in a loving, nurturing, and respectful way. ENCOURAGING COMMUNITY Together we can do more. To better bear the burdens of women and families, a variety of organizations and professionals can work together to meet their needs. Medical professionals, counselors, churches, and related nonprofits all offer unique services to help ease the emotional, psychological, and financial burden of early pregnancy loss. GRIEVING TOGETHER Because of the hushed culture concerning pregnancy loss, many women do not know how to understand their heartache. Everyone grieves differently, and, though common, early pregnancy loss is an intensely personal experience. Whether they choose to grieve publicly or privately, women and families need a safe environment to experience grief. By acknowledging the frequency of early pregnancy loss and recognizing it as a death, families are granted space to grieve. With these core values, we renew our resolve to educate the masses, grieve with the broken, and foster a community of healing. The EPLA encourages families and loved ones to send us your stories and let us know how we can help you as you deal with your loss.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
By: Maria Servold EPLA Editor Here at the Early Pregnancy Loss Association, we are always glad to see celebrities and others in the public eye share about their experiences with miscarriage. When public figures talk about the pain and significance of miscarriage, more people may come to understand its commonality and tragedy. Olympic gold medal-winning gymnast Shawn Johnson and her husband, former NFL player Andrew East, recently released a three-part series on their popular podcast, Couple Things, in which they detail the miscarriage they suffered several years ago. They have also made several YouTube videos about their experience. Part 1 - Our Miscarriage Story Part 2 - Dealing with the Miscarriage Part 3 - Why We Had Mixed Emotions When We Found Out We Were Pregnant The podcasts are excellent, as the couple dive deep into how the pregnancy and miscarriage affected them physically and emotionally. They talk a lot about how the experience changed their relationship as a couple - at first for the worse, and eventually for the better. The Easts now have a healthy baby girl, and their social media pages show lots of photos and videos of her walking at 9 months old! Of course, what else would we expect from the daughter of two professional athletes? ;) Thanks to the Easts for their excellent podcast series and for helping to shed light on the effects of miscarriage. 
Maria Servold is an Editor at the EPLA, Assistant Director of the Herbert H. Dow II Program in American Journalism, and Lecturer in Journalism at Hillsdale College.
By: Emily Carrington EPLA President and Founder For as long as I can remember, I have LOVED fall. As a redhead, coral colored swimsuits and bright sunny beaches just ended in painful sunburn and sand in my shorts. I was always ready to say goodbye to summer. I loved all the things everyone loves about fall: fall activities, fall clothes, fall food, fall football, back to school. I loved all of it (even before there was social media). But this fall I noted the strange distaste that has developed. As I scrolled through my Facebook feed, my friends were celebrating the “ber” months, pumpkin spice lattes, and the coming of cozy sweaters. Even in a pandemic when the world feels like it is on pause, the seasons change and time marches on. But I couldn’t embrace the warmth and coziness of fall, and I noticed that I haven’t for quite some time. While I looked forward to pumpkin picking, fun Halloween costumes, and apple cider, I also felt an underlying sadness. I remembered the fall of 2014. My husband and I had recently moved to Hillsdale, Michigan where he had started his first year as a professor at Hillsdale College. We had just bought our first house and so much of our life was seemingly coming together. We were no longer graduate students, but real adults with a real house and a real job. Now it was time for a real family. Right before moving to Hillsdale, our first baby died during pregnancy. We had discovered the missed miscarriage during a routine ultrasound around 11 weeks. We were devastated. After a difficult but distracting summer, we were excited and relieved to discover we were pregnant again in early August. Much like my first pregnancy the morning sickness and the anxiety set in quickly. Then, around 11 weeks pregnant I discovered I had another missed miscarriage. While I often tell my miscarriage story, it normally contains the details of doctor’s visits, ultrasounds, and the experience of a natural miscarriage. I speak of my emotions, my conversations, my reasoning, and my hormonal state, but I have never verbalized the setting. The setting was a beautiful, southern Michigan fall. With cool crisp air, sunny days, and blue skies. The 45 minute drive to the hospital was lined with incredible tunnels of trees. From our first expectant drive there to our last somber drive home with no baby, the trees turned from green to a magnificent canopy of red, yellow, and orange. In the days following, my sister, her husband, and I sat on the porch eating pumpkin rolls and drinking cider. The air smelled like the county fair and was filled with the sound of marching bands. This was our first fall back in the Midwest after five years in Texas. This was our first fall without our babies. Now my heartbreak emerges as I feel the air change, taste the warmth of apple cider, and smell the leaves. My body remembers my children; my child that was due in November, my child that died and miscarried in September, and later a third child gone before we knew we were pregnant with the changing of the season. Fall is a time of new beginnings and sweet fellowship; a time of harvest and fullness. It offers rest from the summer’s toil and offers warmth for the winter ahead. But it is also a time of death and slow decay. As time marches on and the seasons change, fall marks the truth that with every life there is death. But with every death, there was a life. A life that was sweet, with infinite value, no matter how short. These lives deserve mourning; they also deserve celebrating. So while this season ushers in heartbreak, it also reminds me of the lives I carried inside of me. And remembering their lives soothes my heartbreak with the warm comfort of a good Midwestern fall.
Emily Carrington is a freelance writer, wife, mother, and founder of the EPLA.
By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor In a recent interview with Today and an Instagram post, Jinger (Dugger) Vuolo, of “19 Kids and Counting” fame, communicated so much of what we believe at the Early Pregnancy Loss Association. She describes the excitement of telling her family about her baby and the devastating reality of losing that life. She equates the pain of losing her child with the loss of her grandmother, suggesting that both are the death of a precious person. Jinger reflects on the joy of her current pregnancy but admits the pain of her miscarriage has not left her: healing takes a long time. Her words are both painful and cathartic: "Within moments I knew that I’d lost the baby. Tears filled my eyes, sadness cloaked my soul. Having just lost my grandmother months before, the news of new life was like spring lilies blossoming after a dark, cold winter. And in a moment, that life was gone. I know many of you can relate. The minutes feel like hours, the hours like days, don’t they? I was helpless—nothing I could do would restore the lost life. Yet, I was never hopeless." Jinger has relied on her faith for peace. The EPLA recognizes the complex emotions that come with miscarriage and subsequent pregnancies, and we stand to provide as much support as possible for grieving families. We encourage you to read the interview and Jinger’s Instagram post.  Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
By: Maria Servold EPLA Editor In a recent YouTube video, creator “Nurse Zabe,” (Elizabeth) who posts informational videos about pregnancy, birth, and babies, shared her own story of a chemical pregnancy she lost. As a labor, delivery, and postpartum nurse, as well as a certified childbirth educator, her videos are both informative and humorous. This video, while still incredibly informative, is also a sad testament to the commonality of “chemical” pregnancies. As she describes it, A chemical pregnancy is when a woman finds out she’s pregnant with a pregnancy test before her missed period (in other words, very early), and then has a miscarriage. In many other cases, a woman may not know she is pregnant and the miscarriage could appear like a normal period; the woman would be none the wiser. Many in our society would brush off such a pregnancy, citing the extremely early nature of the loss. But any woman who has hoped to become pregnant and has seen a positive result on a home pregnancy test knows an extremely early loss is just as painful as a later one. The video is both informative and moving. Not only does she explain what a chemical pregnancy is and how often they occur (an estimated 75% of miscarriages are chemical pregnancies, she says), she spends the first half of the video talking about how she felt during her experience: the joy at seeing a positive test, the worry when she experienced cramping and spotting, and the devastation when a blood test revealed she was not viably pregnant. Elizabeth notes, “If I hadn’t taken that test, I wouldn’t have known.” This is the feeling many women get caught up in with chemical pregnancies or other early losses. They may debate themselves endlessly: Should I have waited to test? Was I too eager? She also reassures her viewers: “It’s OK to mourn the loss of the dream [of that child].” Videos like this are so helpful to expand education about early pregnancy loss. We applaud Nurse Zabe for sharing her story, and we mourn the loss of her unborn baby. The video is here. 
Maria Servold is an Editor at the EPLA, Assistant Director of the Herbert H. Dow II Program in American Journalism, and Lecturer in Journalism at Hillsdale College.
By: Nick Carrington EPLA Editor On a recent podcast, author and blogger Jasmine Holmes talked about how a miscarriage early in her marriage created a temper and feelings of anger that she hadn’t experienced before. She was already adjusting to life with her spouse and had moved away from her lifelong home; the trauma of losing a child only compounded the stress. She described how her grief brought out things that had been suppressed within her. We should not be surprised. Miscarriage is the death of a loved one, a precious child that parents have longed for and loved. It does not merely disappoint. It stings the soul. A troubled soul can stir up emotions that have remained dormant for years, and as Holmes explains, those emotions may bewilder loved ones. But as loved ones, we have an opportunity to walk alongside the grieving as they battle the demons that are exposed through grief. We should expect that their demeanor will be different, that their personality will change for a while. Parents who have lost a child may not be themselves in many ways. And as we see these effects, we will have many opportunities to extend grace to them. Grace for the anger that bubbles out. Grace for the cancelled plans and long nights. Grace for the texts that never get answered. Grace for the pain they may cause through careless words. It won’t always be easy, but grace is a part of helping loss parents heal. Through grace, hearts are softened, minds are comforted, and souls gain rest even for just a moment. So as we seek to form a community around those grieving a miscarriage, may grace be the norm.
Nick Carrington is an Editor for the EPLA and Assistant Professor of Professional Writing at Cedarville University.
Father’s Day, like Mother’s Day, can be difficult for parents who have lost a child. Today, we’re featuring a conversation with Early Pregnancy Loss Association board member Maria Servold’s husband, Ryan. The Servolds lost a baby in the fall of 2012. It was their first pregnancy. How did you feel when you found out Maria was pregnant for the first time? I was excited and hopeful. I always wanted kids, so it felt like we were finally on that path. What about when the miscarriage began? At first I felt like I was in a haze and that it wasn’t real. I couldn't believe that that could even happen. It wasn’t something that had crossed my mind as a possibility. I was sad, especially seeing what Maria was going through. What do you remember about the experience? I remember sleeping on the floor next to the couch, where Maria was laying afterward. I was trying to think of ways to comfort her and help her feel better. What can a husband or father do during this time? As a husband, it can feel like there aren’t many ways to help your wife as she is experiencing a miscarriage. It can feel completely out of your control. But just providing emotional support and being there with her to make her feel loved are very important. Now that you are a father to three healthy girls, what would you like to say to other dads experiencing miscarriage? I’m so grateful to now have our three girls, but I won’t ever forget about that first pregnancy. I would encourage other men experiencing loss to have hope for the future, as you don’t know what blessings may be down the road.  By Brittni Faircloth Guest Writer I was an only child growing up. I never babysat or had any real experience with babies. That is not ideal when wanting to start your own family! I always told myself growing up that I would never have kids. I never saw myself as being the motherly type. I met my husband in 2011 and we got married in 2016. In August 2019, we decided to start trying to have a baby. I see all over social media the seemingly high rates of infertility, so when I found I was pregnant just a few months later, I was shocked! I found a doctor, and she was highly recommended from what I saw online. We were so excited about our little baby that we told all of our close friends and family almost immediately. I called the doctor to set up my first appointment, but they didn’t want me to come in until I was 8 weeks along. This way, they could see the baby better on the ultrasound. I didn’t think twice about this, but I wish I would’ve. We anxiously waited for Nov. 6, 2019, to come so that we could see our little jelly bean for the first time! We had the whole day planned. We both took the day off from work, our appointment was around 11 a.m., and we planned a photoshoot around 3 p.m. After our photoshoot, we were going to announce it to the rest of our family, friends, and the whole world if we could. Nov. 6 came, and it will be a day I will never forget. We did the whole routine checkup, answering tons of questions, etc. It was finally time to do the ultrasound. I laid on the table with my husband sitting in a chair by my side. The nurse inserted the ultrasound wand, and there it was! Our little jelly bean. My husband grabbed my arm and shook it excitedly. As soon as I saw the screen I immediately knew something wasn’t right. I couldn’t even form words before the nurse numbly said, “The baby is measuring small, and there isn’t a heartbeat. I will go get the doctor so she can talk to you about your options.” She pulled the ultrasound wand out and walked out. Just like that. Like it was no big deal. I just laid on the table unable to do anything or say anything. My husband put his head in his hands sitting in the chair next to me and it was just silence for what felt like hours. We finally got it together and I got up and got dressed. The doctor came in and said that she was sorry and discussed our options. First, we could wait for the baby to naturally come out. Second, they could give me medication to force the baby out. Third, I could have a D&C procedure to surgically remove the baby. She said for us to think it over and to let them know what we wanted to do. Then they sent us on our way. My head was spinning. I couldn’t even process what she was saying to us or what I was feeling or thinking. I was shocked at how nonchalant they acted. It felt like we were just another number to them. This tragedy might be something they see multiple times a day, but we were completely blindsided. I had no complications, no pains, and no warning signs that this would be the outcome for us. Maybe I was too naïve about it. Miscarriages happen but I never once even thought that it could happen to us. No one in my direct family has had this happen, so miscarriage wasn’t something we even talked about. One of the worst things we had to do was call everyone that knew and tell them the bad news. It was awful. We repeatedly had to say over and over again that we lost the baby. My mom came over that afternoon to be there for us. She talked to us about getting a second opinion. I didn’t even think about this at the time because my head was flooded with emotions and questions that I couldn’t even comprehend. Maybe we got the dates wrong. Maybe the baby was only X amount of weeks instead of X like we thought. We didn’t want to decide to have surgery or force the baby about via medication if there was still the slightest chance of a positive outcome. I didn’t get my hopes up, but we decided to give it a try. We called the doctor that a previous OBGYN I had used suggested. Looking back at it, I wish we would’ve gone to them first. They were able to see us the very next day. Going to their office was a complete 180 from going to the first office. They were so compassionate and sympathetic and made us feel comfortable even though we were going through something traumatic. They did the ultrasound and confirmed what the first doctor told us. The baby had stopped progressing, and there wasn’t a chance of a miracle. They even gave us ultrasound pictures; something the first doctor neglected to do. We asked my mom to go with us to this appointment because she is a question asker, and I felt like I needed her there in case our heads were too in the clouds to comprehend anything. This doctor strongly recommended having the surgery. He said he encourages patients who have miscarriages around the 9 week mark to have the surgery, due to how dangerous a natural passing can be for the mother -- mainly because of excessive bleeding, cramping, and the possibility of hemorrhaging. The first doctor never told us this! I was terrified to do the surgery. Once I noticed my husband asking more and more questions about the surgery, I knew he would rather me to do it since it was the safer option. My surgery was scheduled the very next day. My husband, mom, stepdad, and grandparents were there. The nurses did my work up, and everyone gave me a kiss and left the room. I had a few moments by myself, and I remember putting my hand on my belly and telling the baby that I was so sorry that this was happening. Before I knew it, I was being wheeled back to the operating room. Honestly, the work up and waking up from anesthesia took longer than the actual surgery did. My nurses were so awesome and kind. They helped me from check in to helping me get in the car to go home. I was told to be prepared for a lengthy time of heavy bleeding and cramping and was prescribed a few medications for pain. Luckily, the side effects weren’t too terrible for me.
Three days. That was the time span from being super excited for our first appointment, finding out we lost the baby, getting a second opinion, and having surgery. It all happened so fast. We got so many texts and calls from family and friends checking on us. People even sent us food. I think I was on an adrenaline rush from everything because I was actually OK for the first little bit. Yes, I cried a bunch, but I was OK. I think my survival mode kicked in because I didn’t really have any other choice but to be OK. I felt like I just survived something extremely tragic and if I could handle that, I could take on anything the world threw at me.
The sadness really didn’t start to set in until a few weeks later. I found myself getting very emotional; I would cry all the time. I was feeling extremely anxious, and I would get overwhelmed very easily. Women get post-partum depression after giving birth but what about women that experience a miscarriage? I am not sure if there is any depression named after experiencing a miscarriage. If there isn’t, there should be, because it is just as serious and I definitely had it. I had so many emotions at one time that it was frightening. Going from extremely sad to even embarrassed when people talked about my miscarriage. Why embarrassment? I have no idea, but I felt it. I felt like I failed and that I was already a bad mother because I couldn’t protect my baby. The only person that I could really talk to about it was my husband. He was the only one that really knew what I was feeling. I couldn’t talk to any women in my direct family because no one had experienced this and they couldn’t really relate to what I was feeling. Even my husband told me that he couldn’t really understand what I was going through because it was different for me. He lost a baby too, but I was dealing with it emotionally and physically while he was just dealing with it emotionally. He was right: it hit me a lot harder than it hit him. The emotions had a longer impact on me than it did him. Everyone says to not blame yourself, but how can you not? How can you not blame yourself when you were the one carrying the baby? One of the hardest things for me is the “not knowing" aspect of it. We will never know what really happened and why we lost the baby. We will never know if it was a boy or a girl. We will never know what his or her personality would’ve been like. One thing that haunts me is how silent everyone is about miscarriages. It is like no one wants to talk about it or bring it up. Through this experience I have learned that many of my friends have had this happen to them, but they never said anything. It’s like there’s a stigma around it. I felt like everyone was walking on eggshells around me. This needs to end! Women everywhere shouldn’t feel isolated or alone through this difficult time. It just makes it worse. We need more support groups and more people that will openly share their stories to help others. We need more awareness so women aren’t blindsided like I was. After my surgery, my period cycles were not regular, so it was hard to tell ovulation dates, fertile windows, etc. It was so frustrating when I would get my period. I was so frustrated that we were having to start the process all over. I spent two months feeling sick and dealing with pregnancy symptoms and had to start all over. It took a little bit of time, but I am now four months pregnant with my rainbow baby! So far everything is perfectly fine, and the baby is healthy. As soon as I found out I was pregnant I called my doctor. I am sticking with my “second opinion” doctor’s office, the one that performed my surgery, because we love them so much. They had me come in the very next day to confirm the pregnancy and do blood work. If the first doctor would’ve done this during my first pregnancy, it possibly could’ve prevented my miscarriage because we discovered that my progesterone level was too low. They prescribed me medication, and I started taking it immediately. After further research I found out that low progesterone levels cancan lead to miscarriage. This could’ve been the reason for my miscarriage last year. Unfortunately, by the time the first doctor decided to see me, it was too late. Obviously, we will never know for sure if this is the reason for the miscarriage, but it makes sense in my head. In February 2020, I decided to start seeing a therapist to help me cope with all of these emotions. She has helped me get through it step by step, and I am in a lot better place mentally and emotionally. I will say that I have learned so much from this experience. I had no idea how common miscarriages are. According to my doctor, every 1 in 4 women will experience this. It is also common to experience a miscarriage on your first pregnancy and then have a completely healthy pregnancy after a miscarriage. If you are currently experiencing this now, just know it will get better. Only time and support can heal a pain like this. Keep your chin up, momma! |
Archives
October 2020
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed