Life After A Miscarriage

We were pregnant at the same time.

I didn't know it, though, until she called me to break the news: "Our baby is gone."

My heart sank for Sara and her husband whom I love dearly.

The weeks that followed weren't easy for them: blood tests, ultrasounds and the sting of continued questioning about when they're going to have kids.

I asked if she'd be willing to share her insight about life after a miscarriage because I feel like it's something so few of us talk about.

Here's Sara in her own words...

Let's chat.    
Please stop asking me if I'm going to have kids or when I'm going to have kids. Don't assume I'm pregnant because I passed on having a beer.

I was pregnant, but now I'm not. 

Hearing those questions now is more painful. I didn't like them before. Now I hate them. Those are private questions...

Each mom's journey to motherhood is different, so let them travel that road with their loved ones without your outside thoughts.

I had the excitement, the fear and feelings of early pregnancy.

We told our parents, who both got excited for their first grandkid. And I swore them all to secrecy until the 1st trimester was over.

Then the spotting happened at 9-weeks.

I got concerned.

After calling a nurse for a second time I was asked to come in.

So I rushed to the office to have my first ultrasound. Excitement for an ultrasound and terror of what might be seen were streaking across my mind as I drove.

As it came up on the screen, I watched.

My gut told me it wasn't right...

Why wasn't the tech pointing out anything? 
Where was the heartbeat? 

The tech put my worries into words:

“There is no heartbeat," she said.

What? That was supposed to develop at 7-weeks.

My brain froze, I couldn't comprehend what she had said.

I met with the nurse, filled out some information and it finally hit me and the tears flooded out.

They let me have the room until I felt like I could walk out and head for a blood draw.  

I took the rest of the day off, and my husband did too.

Neither of us knew what to say, just trying to comprehend what had happened.

I think I walked nearly 8-miles that day with a friend and my mom.

I cancelled my weekend plans and stayed around our house to make sure I had the comfort of home.

My dog became my protector; she wouldn’t sit on me, just next to me and lay her head on my knee. She would only leave my side if I fell asleep.

Our support system of our parents and close friends was great. We made it through the worst of it very quickly.

But the weekly blood draws continued for the next five weeks, just dragging out the process and bruising my arms.

Now, I can say it is behind me physically. Emotionally it will always be there. 

But I will admit it; it happened.

It’s nothing to be hidden.

Up to 25 percent of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriages.

As I have opened up about, I was shocked at the number of others who have gone through it.

Yes, we can try again.

But telling me that it’ll be easier next time -- that next time I’ll be better prepared or financially ready -- does not solve the hurt right now.

The journey to motherhood is not easy, and sometimes it is a route with potholes.

Please remember this, be courteous and choose your questions wisely.

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