I should be announcing a pregnancy in this post. I should be 15 weeks along in my pregnancy. I should…
I should be announcing a pregnancy in this post.
I should be 15 weeks along in my pregnancy.
I should be having a baby March 2024.
But instead I had a missed miscarriage.
I share my story mostly to let others know they are not alone. I am one in four women who will have a miscarriage. That’s a lot, and these stories are often not shared.
I shared my story over on Instagram a couple weeks ago, and I was blown away by how many people commented saying they too had went through a miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirth, or anything of the like.
image credit: @waitingforababe on Instagram
So I want others to know that if this has happened to you too, know you are not alone. Know that any feelings you had/have are valid. And I hope you get your rainbow baby some day.
My story started on July 26th when I ran the Tracksmith 5000. I had no idea at the time, but I was 4 weeks pregnant during this race. In the past when I have been pregnant, I have started to feel off with my running prior to getting a positive pregnancy test, but surprisingly I felt okay during this race. (Maybe a sign already?!) I was supposed to get my period that day but didn’t and then two days later I realized I still hadn’t gotten my period. (My cycle is very regular, so I started to wonder if I was pregnant.)
That Saturday morning, before heading out for my long run, I took a pregnancy test, and it immediately showed up as pregnant. I didn’t wake Craig because he was still sleeping but headed out for my run with my head spinning: planning, imaging life with three kids, trying to figure out if I would surprise Craig in any way, etc.
When I got back from my run, I was sitting on the front steps of our house cooling off when Craig came out to let our dog out. I thought about trying to surprise him with this pregnancy, but I also didn’t know how/when I would do it as we were headed up to the Cities in just a couple of hours for my nephew’s birthday party and an overnight stay in a hotel. I ended up blurting out, “Guess what?!” And without hesitation, he said, “You’re pregnant.” And I said, “Yep.”
We went about our day and weekend, but it always feels so strange to have a huge secret but you aren’t ready to share yet, so we didn’t tell any family or friends.
As the weeks went on, my symptoms for this pregnancy never escalated, which was my first tip-off that something wasn’t right. With Bjorn I felt as though I had been hit by a Mack truck and was exhausted–just willing myself to get ready for the day felt like the hardest task. But I was still early on: week 5/6, and I reasoned with myself, ‘maybe I got off easy this pregnancy.’
We went to Alaska and by then I was even more sure I had miscarried because I was now in weeks 7/8 of my pregnancy and my symptoms were still very mild: very mild all-day nausea, insomnia, a little more tired than usual but nothing too crazy, and incontinence on my runs. I did all my usual runs during this time and could still hit prescribed paces. It wasn’t until the tail end of this trip that I started to feel a lot worse with my running. I ran the Skinny Raven Half Marathon and ran a “slow” 1:31. I wasn’t happy with how this went, but I also had to remind myself I was 7 weeks pregnant.
That next week when we got back to Minnesota, I had my first ultrasound appointment. The night prior I didn’t sleep very much as I kept trying to decide if I was pregnant or not. I was pretty certain I wasn’t, but Craig thought I was, and he is known for having a sixth sense about situations like this. So I held out and imagined hearing the heart beat as soon as they put the ultrasound device on me. I just wanted to know one way or another because I was tired of being in limbo-land.
That next morning I went to my appointment and met the ultrasound tech. She said they would start with a exterior ultrasound but may have to do a vaginal ultrasound if necessary. As soon as she put the wand (?) on me and started moving it around to try and find a heart beat, I knew it wasn’t good when there was no classic “thu-whump” sound from the heart beat. And then just a few seconds after that, she said, “It looks like we will have to do that vaginal ultrasound,” and I knew that was another bad sign.
She finished up with the ultrasound, and then I had a couple of hours before meeting with the doctor, so I treated myself to Starbucks and made a stop at Target. (Can I get any more basic.)
When it was time to meet with the doctor, I sat waiting for him, ready for him to tell me I had miscarried. He finally came in and immediately asked, “How sure are you on the day of your last period.” I said I was 100% sure. He asked me a few more questions before he said that the baby was measuring at 6 weeks, 1 day, but according to my calculation, I should have been 7 weeks, 6 days along. He said we can’t say for sure if it is a miscarriage because the heart beat starts at 6 weeks, 1 or 2 days, so maybe I was off or maybe some fluke happened. Either way, I would have to come back in 11 or more days to do another ultrasound and confirm whether or not I had miscarriage.
I ended up having to wait almost two full weeks, which felt like a long two weeks. My symptoms continued to be mild but running became harder. I should say I could still the mileage but running fast–and medium-fast for an extending period of time–as in tempo runs, was becoming increasingly difficult.
Finally it was time for my second ultra sound, and this time I couldn’t see the screen when the tech did the measurements, but as soon as she put the ultrasound wand in me, and I once again didn’t hear any heartbeat, I knew.
I met with the doctor about an hour later, and as soon as she came into the room, she said, “I’m sorry, but the fetus has decreased in size and there still is no heartbeat.” I was not surprised by this, but it finally gave me confirmation of the missed miscarriage. (‘Missed’ because my body didn’t slough off the tissue on its own.) We talked about different options (pills vs a D&C surgery), and I said I wanted to go home and discuss the options with Craig.
Craig and I discussed what would be the best, and he said he would support me in whatever I decided. I went back and forth on what to do. I wanted to do a D&C because then it would be over and done with, however, taking the pills at home would be easier and in the comfort of my own home. I ultimately decided to take the pills, so I got the prescription from the pharmacy and started taking them early Friday morning. They are supposed to start working within a few hours but nothing happened. I kept waiting for something to happen, but I never started passing any tissue. Fortunately my sister came to stay with me for a couple of days in case I needed help because Craig was out of town. I probably should have waited until he got back, but I was also anxious to get it over and done with.
With nothing happening, I took a second dose the following morning, once again waiting for something to happen. Hours passed by, my sister had to get back home, and so the boys and I just went upon our weekend–going to church, running errands, and going to soccer practice.
Come Monday morning, I called the OB doctor and told her I hadn’t passed anything yet and wanted to schedule a D&C. They were able to get me in for Wednesday that week, so Craig took me to the hospital that morning for surgery. They got me prepped for surgery, and then we had to wait a bit until the doctor was ready. (Side note: while we waited, we watched some Alaska reality TV show and critiqued it like no other because these shows are so not real! Ha! After living in Alaska, you can pick out who actually lives there, what’s reality, what’s not, and I hope no one ever believes this stuff.)
I appreciated my doctor–he was kind, reassuring everything would go well, and made me feel comfortable. I just remember starting up at the OR ceiling, the anesthesiologist coming in, and then waking up in the recovery room. I have only been put under a couple of times and every time it is so trippy!
Everything during surgery went well. The doctor said I did have more tissue than normal, so they did an ultrasound during surgery to make sure they got everything. I woke up to myself shivering, and I was really groggy, which is to be expected. We were out of the hospital in about an hour, and then we went home to get the boys. I felt pretty good after surgery–just a little sore in my abdomen, but since there were no incisions, it was a lot less invasive.
It’s been three weeks since the D&C surgery and physically I am feeling back to normal. Emotionally, I have my ups and downs. Seeing pregnancy women is hard, and a couple people announced their pregnancies this last week on Instagram and they hit me hard with anger because last week should have been when I was announcing my pregnancy as well. Of course the real emotion is ‘jealousy’ as I watch others get pregnant and have successful pregnancies.
What may surprise you even more is that this was not my first miscarriage .. . . . .it was actually my third miscarriage. My first miscarriage was in December 2017. I didn’t get my period, took a pregnancy test, got a positive pregnancy test, and then miscarried just a couple days later.
My second miscarriage was March 2018. I found out I was pregnant in February, but then when I went in for my ~8 week ultrasound there was no heartbeat. Prior to this appointment, I had an inkling I had miscarried as well. I remember telling my sister, “I know am not lying when I say ‘I’m pregnant,’ but it doesn’t feel like it is true.” And right before the nurse practitioner started the ultrasound, I told her, “I’m not even sure I’m pregnant.” I had forgot that you should be able to hear the heart beat right away when they start the ultrasound, so I didn’t really think too much of it until she said, “I can’t find a heart beat.” Once again, I had to wait several days before going back for a second ultrasound, but it didn’t surprise me when they said I had indeed miscarried. At that time, I also opted for the pills first to force my body to miscarry. I passed a lot of tissue that weekend and thought I had passed everything. (In hindsight, I don’t know why they didn’t do a blood test to test my hCG levels or an ultrasound to confirm I did indeed pass everything.) But about three months later, I started having severe hemorrhaging while driving home one morning, went to the ER, and then had a D&C to finally remove all of the tissue.
Thankfully we got our rainbow baby (Bjorn) that next year September 2019.