Emotional Aftermath of Miscarriage – One Woman’s Story

So I dedicated one entire (long-ass) post to just the physical part of my miscarriage.  Today is a good day for me, so I thought that maybe I could delve into the emotional aftermath of my miscarriage.  True Beanie fashion to take a good day and ruin it with sadness and tears.

I hope this entry is shorter.

Of course, I was happy happy happy during the pregnancy.  I think there was always a part of me that thought something would go wrong.  I’m a Negative Nancy, but a realist as well.  I have PCOS.  I had to use fertility medications and treatments to get pregnant.  I’m diabetic.  All of these put me at high risk for miscarriage.  So I researched and researched some more.  I constantly stared at my ultrasound photo to see if I could see anything inside the gestational sac that would ease my mind about impending doom.  Some days I was alright, other days I wasn’t.

Just before I’d gotten my BFP, I remember having a dream.  In my dream, I was at the RE’s office and Dr. C had taken my blood.  She came out of her office and told me “Beanie, now you can breathe.”  It was a day or two later and I found out I was pregnant.  The same thing happened around the time of my miscarriage… only in that dream, the doctor was confirming my miscarriage.

So many tears.  As was expected, I cried while in the ER.  I cried during the horrific, traumatizing ultrasound.  I cried when we had confirmation that I was miscarrying.  I cried for days.

… And then I didn’t cry every hour… instead, maybe just once a day.  And then the daily cry was every second day, then to a couple times a week.  You might think I’m insane – but my lack of crying scared me.  I was terrified that I was moving on too quickly.  I didn’t WANT to stop crying.  I didn’t want anyone to think I wasn’t still sad – cause I was.  I did not want to move on from my Bumble.  My confusion of how I was feeling caused me to lash out at Cody.  Since he wasn’t crying, I accused him of forgetting about our baby.  When his mom didn’t call me to ask how I was doing, I called her a wench and cussed out the rest of his family*.  I felt that they were insensitive to me, and clearly they didn’t care about Bumble.  He was only 7 weeks old when we lost him, and apparently it didn’t matter to anyone but me.  Everyone else was acting like he never existed… like I was never pregnant.

I don’t help my case.  For the most part, no one could comfort me since no one knew I was pregnant.  How could I tell people I was going through one of the worst moments of my life when they didn’t even know I’d been expecting to experience the best moment in August 2014?  However, one day my friend Corrine sent me a Facebook message.  She told me that she’d had a miscarriage and that things were really rough for her.  Initially I was shocked and put off – the jealousy of her and her husband trying and being successful was sneaking through.  Then I was really sad for her.  In that moment, I broke my silence.  I told her I’d had a miscarriage as well.  Turns out we miscarried within days of each other.  I’m so thankful that Corrine confided in me.  She is so brave to talk about her miscarriage.  She helped me without even realizing, I’m sure.  After I told Corrine, I told her sister (my BFF!)… and then I told my cousin.  They are all women who I’m close to and who didn’t even know we’d successfully gotten pregnant in the first place.  And they were all so supportive once they knew we lost Bumble.  If anything, I need to realize I’ve had the same friends for 25 years for a reason.  They are there when they are needed.  I don’t know why I keep forgetting that.

Another couple of weeks passed and all of a sudden it was time for our trip to Iceland!  I’d been looking forward to the trip for a long time.  It was time for Cody and I to go away and get back to being ourselves.  We both had an amazing time and I didn’t want to leave. At one point I was starting at some mountains and I said to Cody: “How could anyone expect me to want to go back?  I’m the happiest I’ve been in a long time… why would I want to change that?”

Reykjavik helped me.  Cody and I (stupidly) planned an excursion where we’d be climbing a glacier.  Friends, it’s a lot f-word harder than it sounds.  I am NOT in shape.  I was climbing that glacier, Cody by my side and I decided I wasn’t going to make it all the way up.  Wheezing, I told Cody that I needed to go back down.  He tried to tell me we were almost at the top (we were not), but I just couldn’t do it anymore.  He looked at me and said OK.  I told him to keep going, but he said he wasn’t leaving me.  If I needed to go back, he was going with me.  Our guide saw us falling behind and I had my out… but I didn’t take it.  I climbed, and wheezed, and cussed, but I made it.  And as cliché as it is, I saw this as a turning point.  I never give myself enough credit – I can handle more than I think.  Sometimes I just need to push through the unpleasant moments.

As a side note, if you ever want to visit somewhere, Iceland is it.  It was beautiful, the people were amazing, the food was delicious.  I’m actually changing my 5 year plan.  Instead of selling our house and buying a farm, I am going to learn to speak Scandinavian, move to Iceland and teach.  Seriously, I was so happy while in Reykjavik.  I felt peace.

We came home and I had more moments of sad.  We put two and two together and realized we’d tied our trip and “moving forward” together.  Coming back to Canada meant we were going to start trying again.  Trying again meant more doctors, more tests, medications, ultrasounds.  I was – and still am – scared.  I am ok with trying again… I just don’t want Bumble to think I’ve forgotten him.  Or that he can be replaced.

So to sum it up, I guess presently I’m a mix of emotions:  Sad I’ve lost Bumble.  Pissed off at my out in-laws.  In love with my husband.  Happy to be home.  Missing Iceland.  Hopeful for another (healthy) pregnancy.  Wishing I didn’t have to think about a new pregnancy.


* My in-laws are mean.  I don’t know if it’s deliberate, but they have a way of making me feel awful all.the.time.  No one contacted me about the miscarriage.  I didn’t hear from anyone or see them until we were sitting at their kitchen waiting for them to drive us to the airport.  It was at that time that two of my three sister-in-laws decided to blurt out that two of their cousins are pregnant.  But one of them was “having issues” and didn’t think the baby would survive.  I sat in silence, holding back tears when my husband looked at me and said “What’s wrong?”.  I wanted to sucker punch him.  And them.  I got on the plane that night and tried not to bawl my eyes out.

5 thoughts on “Emotional Aftermath of Miscarriage – One Woman’s Story

  1. I wish I could say that I am “happy” to read this, but I am not. I am sorry that I have to read this, sorry that you and so many other women Know the pain of miscarriage. I am sorry for your loss and thankful that you are willing to share your story. We are not alone.

    1. Thanks so much. It’s why I keep blogging – so that I don’t feel alone and so that I can seek comfort and validation from women in similar situations to mine.

      I hope you’re well. I know the pain of trying to figure out if you want or can pay for treatments. Trying to decide what your line is can be so hard.

  2. Thank you for sharing your story. I know that by reading others’ stories and talking about my own story it has helped me through the past couple of years. We lost our son in May of 2012 and suffered a miscarriage in Jan of this year. I feel your in-law pain….. Unfortunately mine are of the mindset that they are the foremost of importance. My MIL (Thank goodness I did not see this) had a HUGE breakdown in the NICU the day our son passed away… We brought the family in with us for awhile and wanted to spend his last moments together as a family just the three of us. My mother had to beg her to get up off the floor and leave us. You are not alone on that front! Thinking of you and sending good thoughts and baby dust.

    1. omygosh, I just wrote this long reply and it deleted on me. Of course.

      I’m so sorry for your losses. I hate saying that, but I have no idea what else would be better. I’m about to head over to your blog, but in advance, it broke my heart to read that you’ve had to go through two losses.

      As for in-laws… I could do without. I’m not saying I wish my husband’s family didn’t exist, just that I wish I didn’t HAVE to try and create some type of relationship with them. I wish families could stay separate, I guess.

      I don’t know how your mother didn’t lose her shit on your MIL. I know my own step mother would have had a fit if my MIL was acting like that! I can’t believe the level of selfishness one must have in order to act that way.

      I am sending you good vibes and baby dust as well!

      1. Bahahahaa Oh thank you for that giggle. Yes, it is impressive that my mother did not lose her shit on my MIL. Hahaha.. Quote “Please for the love of god I am begging you get up off the floor.. you have got to get up” The nurse asked my mother if needed help getting her out of there. Oh that is just the tip of the iceberg where they are concerned and our journey.

        I know what you mean I do not like have to say it as well “Sorry for your loss” But I really do feel that way just how do you express that to someone who you know has all the same feelings on the inside as you. Kindered Spirits if you will by unfortunate circumstances.

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