There, I said it. It’s done. You can’t fathom the amount of relief I’m experiencing as I begin to write this post, unless you yourself have been in the same shoes and have had to break this news to your family, loved ones, friends, and public. Peter and I have held onto this small piece of information to ourselves for the past couple of weeks now unsure of how to share it and unsure if we even wanted to share it. And the reason that I even gathered up the courage to be able to share this was due in fact to Meghan Markle’s piece in the New York Times sharing the news of hers. Only from there did I learn that miscarriages are more common than we expect—did you know that 10-20% of women suffer from miscarriages?—yet it’s rarely ever talked about due to shame and stigma? I concur that I felt all of these emotions and more when I was going through mine. You see we only had a short span of 2.5 weeks of rejoicing in my newfound pregnancy culminating in the miscarriage, so you can only image the thousands of thoughts, feelings, and emotions that I went through in that short period of time.
It had been almost 3 weeks since I had missed my period, and after spending the past couple of days mulling over the thought that I could be pregnant, Peter and I picked up a pregnancy test at our local drug store on a whim just to see. Tuesday, November 2nd, 2020—I’ll never forget this day. I finally decided to take the pregnancy test. It was positive. My initial reaction was of surprise (we hadn’t been planning on actively trying for at least the next year or two), but I also wasn’t that surprised either given how late my period was, and the typical pregnancy symptoms that had began popping up. I broke the news to Peter and he too shared the same emotions. Our thoughts quickly changed to excitement after we had some time to really digest the news.
The next thing I did was instantly overhaul my lifestyle and diet all within one day. I spent countless hours researching everything that I could and could no longer consume. As someone who loves sushi, soft cheeses, charcuterie meat, rawer meat, and gooey egg-yolks, my food lifestyle was about to be turned upside down. We broke the news to our immediate family that following weekend on a short visit back to Ottawa and afterwards instantly began taking supplements, eating healthier, sleeping earlier, and all the such that most women typically do when attempting to improve their lifestyle and maintain the health of themselves and their baby while pregnant.
Pregnancy early on in the process is an extremely isolating experience. There’s no steadfast rule that states that you can’t share the news with anyone, but most women typically wait till the first trimester is over before breaking the news to avoid having to have difficult discussions such as a miscarriage if the pregnancy doesn’t follow through—although no one ever really fathoms a miscarriage to be a viable option, it’s always better to be safe than sorry. As my excitement grew each day the pregnancy carried on, my feelings of isolation intensified as well. I had no one to talk to about it except for Peter, my parents, and his mother. I anxiously counted down the days till we were able to share the happy news with our family and friends. We never got the chance to.
Fast forward 1 week later, I experienced extreme gassiness (queue the midnight research on WebMD to confirm that this was a symptom of pregnancy—it is), my breasts were ridiculously tender and irritated by any touch (also another sign of pregnancy), and my hair and skin was oilier than ever (yet another sign). So I never once thought that anything bad could or would happen since my pregnancy seemed to be proceeding as it should due to all of the signs and symptoms that I was experiencing.
Exactly 1 week later on Tuesday, November 17th, I was having a completely normal morning; woken up, had my glass of water and coffee, cuddled with our dog for a bit, ran some errands, came back home feeling that tingling sensation of when you need to go to the bathroom, only to notice that I was spotting. My heart instantly dropped. Up until this point, everything seemed normal. There were no indications of an abnormal pregnancy. I felt no cramps or sharp pains on my sides that some women typically do when they miscarry. I did some research online and found out that light spotting was normal during the first trimester and that it wasn’t anything to really be too overly concerned about. I made the decision to keep an eye on it to ensure that the volume of blood didn’t increase and that clots weren’t being passed.
The following day I had a call with my family doctor scheduled, and proceeded to share the exciting news about my pregnancy along with the update that I had just began spotting the day earlier. Because my family doctor is in Ottawa and I’m currently in Toronto, she advised that I find a walk-in clinic as soon as possible so as to get a series of blood tests and ultrasounds done in order to determine what was going on. All within the same day, I set up a call-in appointment with a walk-in clinic, talked to a doctor over the phone, picked up the bloodwork and ultrasound requisitions, and got my first round of bloodwork and ultrasounds done. It was a long and hectic day to say the least. All of this began at around 11 AM and didn’t finish until 5PM.
I went back to get my second round of bloodwork done 2 days later on Friday (I was scheduled for a total of 3 rounds of bloodwork so that the doctors could measure my hCG levels to ensure that it was rising in accordance to a healthy pregnancy, if it drops, its a chemical sign of a miscarriage). While waiting for my results, the doctor at the walk-in clinic advised that if the bleeding progressed or that if I passed more and larger clots, that it was imperative that I go to the ER. Fast forward to 4 AM Saturday morning. I was woken up to the feeling of a large clot passing. This is where the story begins to get significantly more graphic, so I would advise that you skip this part unless you’re comfortable with reading this. I rushed to the bathroom only find out that I had passed a clot the size of my palm. I changed my pad and went back to sleep hoping that it was just a one-time thing and prayed that my spotting and bleeding would stop. We were already 5 days in and it hadn’t.
I woke up at around 10 AM that morning feeling totally normal. No stomach pains or cramps. We proceeded to carry on the day as we normally would, I shot some photos for a campaign and did some work. Only to pass another clot at around 2 PM. In the middle of shooting some photos, I immediately felt something come out. I once again rushed to the washroom only to discover that along with clots, I had also passed a large piece of tissue about the size of a small clementine. At that point I new that something was gravely wrong. I think throughout the course of the 5 days, inside I knew something wasn’t right but I was afraid to admit it to myself. I called my mother to give her an update and she advised us to go to the ER instantly. From previous experiences with ERs, I knew that I would be there for a minimum of 3-5 hours, so we quickly ate a full meal and charged our phones before packing up some personal belongings and driving out to there at 6PM.
It’s unfortunate that due to the current global pandemic, that Peter wasn’t allowed into the ER with me. I really could have used the emotional support of my husband by my side as I sat alone in the hospital for 3 hours going through a series of test and awaiting my results. Although the result wasn’t conclusive, yet, I already knew walking into the hospital that I was miscarrying. I could feel it and I knew it.
The entire process itself only took a total of 3 hours. What took the longest was waiting for my bloodwork (they had to do another one at the hospital, this would have been my third within the span of 4 days), and my ultrasound (my second that week). All of the healthcare workers were impressively compassionate and helpful throughout my entire time there, and the doctor especially. He was extremely patient and answered the thousand-and-one questions that I had with extreme care after he had explained how I had miscarried. He even explained to me that miscarriages are quite common, especially in the first trimester, as it’s your own body’s way of terminating an unhealthy baby to begin with. He knew without me even having to voice my thoughts that I shouldn’t blame myself, or feel guilty about the overall outcome because there was nothing that I could have done to prevent it. Somehow he knew the exact words to use to help me to understand that this was nature’s own corrective course while simultaneously making me feel comforted.
When I left at 9:30 PM, I felt numb. Numb to the fact that all within the span of 5 short days I had completely lost my first child. And numb to the fact that I was no longer a mother. I know that it had only short span of 2.5 weeks since we found out that I was pregnant, but so much had happened within that short time frame that it felt like a sudden jolt to have all of that ripped away from me. I had spent countless hours over the course of the first 2 weeks considering our lifestyle changes for the future, what we would need to get for the baby, how we would go about buying a house, if we would need to get a bigger car, etc. All of the things that people begin to think about as soon as they find out that they’re pregnant. We had even begun discussing potential baby names and such. It was hard to grapple with the fact that none of those things mattered anymore when I walked out of the hospital. I went from spending every waking moment thinking about the baby and how our life was going to be so different, back to realizing that I no longer had a baby, and that every thing was about to go “back to normal”. I didn’t want that normal anymore. I wanted my baby back. I ended up crying myself to sleep that night.
I called my mom that night to tell her what had happened, then spent the next day in bed constantly rolling through thoughts of what had I done that had caused this, what could I have done to prevented this. All the while knowing that there was nothing that I did or could have done to prevent this. No matter what anyone tells you, the amount of guilt, shame, and blame that you feel is impossible to withhold. I think that knowing that the baby was inside of you, you instantly blame yourself for any harm that came to it, regardless if any of those factors were in your control. I felt guilt for not being able to bring my baby to full term, guilt for taking away fatherhood from Peter, guilt for being a bad mom. Shame for possibly having done something to have caused it. Shame for not providing a hospitable environment for the baby to grow in, and shame for not being able to produce a fully healthy baby. I felt like it was all my fault even knowing fully well that it wasn’t. I had completely stopped drinking weeks prior to finding out (from suspicions that I was pregnant), I stopped eating sushi, I stopped eating charcuterie meat, I had begun taking prenatal supplements, drinking more water, eating healthier. I had begun doing everything that I knew that I could to have a healthy pregnancy, yet none of it was enough for the baby to survive. And yet none of it was of my doing. The doctor had told me that sometimes unhealthy fetuses are self-terminated and everything that I had read online reinforced that, but I still found it had to believe, or rather to let myself believe that.
It’s taken me many weeks of grappling with this fact to finally feel at rest with the entire ordeal, but it didn’t feel right to hide this part of my life and to not share it. Most of you come here to read about some fun recipes that I enjoy, to participate in my annual holiday giveaways, to be inspired by outfits that I share, and to join me on my travel adventures. But I never share theses stories that aren’t always happy. I never share about the downs that I go through, and it doesn’t feel right.
A miscarriage shouldn’t be hidden away in a shadow to feel ashamed about, because too many women experience it without the sufficient support and strength that they need to get through it. My hope is that by sharing my journey, though sad it may be, it may help other fellow women who have suffered from miscarriages, or who may potentially experience them in the future to feel that they are not alone.
You are not alone in this loss, I am here for you. I know how tough it is, and understand to have something so dear to you rudely ripped away, so I want you to know that it is not your fault. Sometimes things just aren’t meant to be and there’s nothing to be guilty or to feel ashamed about. You are strong, and your body is strong, when the right time comes, it will all work out. I am here for you. And for those of you that are here for me, thank you.
