Loading tweets...
This post is part of a series of posts in honor of National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Today’s post comes from Lauren of Hobo Mama. You can learn more about Lauren at the end of this post.
There’s something poignant about losing the first attempt at conception. I say this even knowing that other women have suffered far greater losses than that, but in that moment, it’s not an exaggeration to say I was devastated. It felt like my body had betrayed me, that all my hopes now for children were uncertain, and that for any subsequent pregnancy — if, indeed, I could get pregnant again — I would worry as the weeks slowly passed, monitoring each pang and obsessing over any indication of spotting.
But for now, during the miscarriage, I knew that I wanted to carry it to a close in a respectful and meaningful way: naturally.
I want to say upfront that I don’t suggest any other woman choose the path I did, or even that I was medically correct in eschewing intervention. For me, for then, it felt right. I needed to learn to trust my body, to rebuild my faith in its process, and to give the baby a gentle goodbye.
I was six weeks along when the spotting started, after a ballet class. I called the midwives I had chosen but not yet had an official appointment with, and they gave me the half-comforting, half-alarming truth: that it was either a miscarriage or it wasn’t, and there was nothing I could do about it either way. Without cramping, the spotting likely was just an anomaly. But, really, many women have early miscarriages, and there’s no way to stop it if it’s happening. They suggested lying down on my left side, more to make me feel better than to prevent any loss that was inevitable.
I quit ballet for the first trimester, lay down a lot, and worried. The spotting subsided, and I cautiously resumed my optimism. At ten weeks, my husband, Sam, and I went on a short, last-time-before-babies trip to London. On the plane ride back, the spotting started up again, this time with cramps.
We had a cat-sitting business, so we had to jump right back into work when we returned, visiting people’s houses to care for their pets. I kept sitting down while Sam performed the tasks. I felt awful, like a terrible period was coming, and the anxiety was even worse.
Just before we left our last house for the day, I went to the bathroom, and there it was: bright red blood, copious amounts. I began weeping in the car. I knew what this meant.
We went home, and I lay in bed, but it was no use, of course. We went to our first prenatal appointment a couple days later, and I sobbed through it. The midwives wondered why I’d even come in, but I needed someone to know, and give me some guidance. I hadn’t seen my gynecologist for about a year, ever since I went off birth control, and didn’t feel like going back to her for this grim purpose.
Sam and I mourned through junk food and alcohol — the things we had denied ourselves in the long stretch of preparing to conceive, trying to conceive, and pregnancy. And I wondered whether I needed medical assistance with the miscarriage, or whether to continue on as I’d begun.
Ten weeks gestation is in a sort of no-man’s-land for whether a medical procedure would be advised. With very early miscarriages, generally the uterus will absorb or expel any tissue without further intervention needed. It should be more or less like a heavy period. With later miscarriages, say, at 12 weeks or so, the miscarriage might in fact have to be like a little birth, because the fetus is more formed. (This isn’t medical advice here, just my own understanding of how it often is.) All the women I knew who’d had miscarriages (and as I told my story, it turned out there were many, all sisters in this sadness) had had a D&C, just in case, unless the miscarriage was very early. I couldn’t find anyone at my stage who’d chosen the natural route.
One reason I decided to miscarry naturally was financial and practical. We had very little money, cat sitting not being the most lucrative field. Being self-employed, we had to buy our own health insurance, so we’d chosen a plan that covered barely anything. The midwives wanted nothing to do with us until we were pregnant again (which makes sense) and suggested going to a gynecologist for followup care. If I’d gone to our gynecologist, it would be classified as an urgent-care office visit, rather than preventative care, and we’d have to pay for it out of pocket. At a more solvent time in our lives, this would not have been an issue, but we were hurting financially, and the idea of paying to be told, “Yup, you’re miscarrying,” stung. If the miscarriage was proceeding apace, there was no need for a D&C anyway, and I worried that any medical doctor would urge one on us regardless.
But, mostly I wanted to miscarry naturally, because that was how we’d begun our journey, and how we’d hoped to end it. I had conceived by going off hormonal birth control (and, six years later, I still haven’t resumed and don’t plan to) and getting in touch with my body’s natural cycles through charting. I had planned a home birth in our little studio apartment, with midwives in attendance, and the thought of ending this much-hoped-for pregnancy on a hard table in a sterile, white office seemed so far removed from my wish for this baby’s entrance into the world.
I also carried some guilt over my behavior in the pregnancy thus far. I felt I hadn’t connected as much to the baby as I should have. I had been aware of the miscarriage statistics, and when I started spotting at six weeks, I think I disconnected a little bit more, out of fear of becoming too attached to a baby who wasn’t meant to be. We hadn’t told any of our friends we were expecting, which now meant we had to tell them both items of news at once: that we had been pregnant, and that we no longer were. It was important for me to tell them, even though it was belatedly, because I was a mess, and it turned out I needed their support. Miscarrying naturally, then, was a way for me to come to terms with my love for this baby, and my grief that I was losing the pregnancy. I learned that despite it all, I had bonded with the baby, or that I was doing so now. It was like a gift that I could give this small life: a proper sendoff.
So I spent several days in the bathroom, and several weeks bleeding and cramping heavily, my own private labor of this child who was lost too soon. But then the bleeding continued, after the time when most miscarriages would have subsided. I scoured online message boards for natural miscarriage stories. Again, they were harder to come by than stories of D&Cs or the like, but at least there were some.
My bleeding waxed and waned for five months. After the first couple weeks of bright red and gushing blood, it had gradually slowed down to brown and oozing — old blood, clearly. There were days I didn’t bleed at all, and I kept thinking it was over, but then it would come back again. There was no more pain, though, and I never felt ill or had a fever or smelled anything funky. I figured I was just having an unusually long miscarriage, or that maybe this was normal but very few people had natural miscarriages at 10 weeks so I couldn’t compare. Sam and I started trying to conceive again after a couple months, because my charts seemed to indicate I was ovulating, but I wasn’t sure.
One night, I woke up in excruciating abdominal pain, the worst cramps of my life. I woke up Sam so he could be worried for me. I had been reading books about childbirth hypnosis and the connection between pain and fear. The panic over what on earth was happening to my insides was just making the sensations worse. I forced myself to tune out the fear so I could relax through the pain. Along with four ibuprofen, I took a long, hot shower, resting my head against the wall of the shower and closing my eyes as water poured over me.
When I felt somewhat better, I emerged from the shower and lay down in bed, where I relaxed enough to fall asleep despite the pain. When next I awoke and went to the bathroom, there in my underwear was a clot of tissue, about the size of a chestnut.
I inspected it, but I saw nothing that told me what it was: fetus, or placenta, or something else. I sealed it in a plastic bag and set it down in the bathroom while I wondered what to do with it. Maybe someone would want to inspect it, I reasoned.
The next day, I called the midwives, who once again told me to call the gynecologist. Finally, I decided they were probably right, and set up an appointment.
But the gynecologist’s office ticked me off with their bureaucracy, as I’d suspected they would. I had already, in such a short timeframe, become accustomed to the standards of midwifery care, and the thought of going back to a disinterested doctor who saw me for five minutes max after I sat in her waiting room for an hour and a half … yeah, it didn’t appeal. The first appointment they could get me was for three weeks out, so I took it. Then I called back and asked if that seriously was the first appointment they had. The person on the phone responded that it was the first preventative care appointment, but they could see me that week for urgent care. Reluctantly, I signed up.
My bleeding had stopped, cold turkey. Obviously the five months of spotting was my body trying to eject that last bit of tissue. I still felt fine. No one expressed any interest in examining the tissue that had come out, which was a good thing — I stupidly forgot that it would rot if I just left it out at room temperature like that. The fact that it did rot seemed to me like a good sign: It confirmed that when it had come out of my body, it had not been rotten then.
For this reason, I was very hesitant about going to the gynecologist. I suspected she would want to do a D&C “just to be sure” everything was out, but I was now confident everything was fine, given that I’d stopped bleeding. My reluctance to go manifested in making us super late to get to the doctor’s office. So late that they had taken in somebody else for my slot and they wouldn’t see me unless they ended up having another opening — I was free to wait around if I wanted. I wandered around the hallways for about an hour, calling Sam on a payphone (we had only one cellphone at the time, and he had it — he was off cat sitting for us) to get his advice. He finally said what I wanted to hear: that I could go tell the gynecologist’s office to stuff it and that I was going home. So I did, only politely, of course.
By the time my preventative exam rolled around — I was pregnant. And this one stuck, and is now four-year-old Mikko.
I tell this story of a natural miscarriage for specific reasons and not for others. For instance, I do not tell it to suggest anyone else should miscarry naturally — that it’s the best way, or that indeed it was the best idea for me, given my prolonged bleeding. Many women will be able to miscarry naturally if they want, but some will need extra help to avoid complications, and some will simply not want to go through the emotional and physical ordeal of bleeding alone at home. For me, it ended up being worth it, but that’s a very personal decision.
The reason I tell this story is simply to have a natural miscarriage story out there. When I was searching for stories of other women going through this same thing, I wanted something just like this — a message of here is what happened to me, and here is what I thought about it, and here is how it turned out.
Miscarrying naturally was safe for my body and gave me a new measure of trust in its workings. Yes, it took five months to push out that retained tissue — but it did it! No doctor would have given it five months to work, but there was literally no need to hurry it along. I was fine, and I’ve gone on to have two successful pregnancies since.
Miscarrying naturally was what I needed for my emotional health. Bleeding and cramping and working through the physical act of losing my baby was part of my process of grief, and ultimately, of healing. It connected me to what was going on in my mind anyway, and I didn’t feel like trying to take a shortcut and get it over with. It took months for me to heal emotionally, so the bleeding went along well with that. By the time the bleeding was done, I felt connected to my little lost baby, loved by him, and ready to move on.
Miscarrying naturally helped prepare me for a natural birth. Particularly in the throes of my body’s expulsion of that last bit of tissue, I had to exercise my newfound techniques of relaxation and natural pain relief. I also had to tamp down the panic and continue trusting that my body knew what it was doing, despite the intensity of the sensations. Those lessons served me well in Mikko’s 42-hour labor with a natural hospital childbirth, and Alrik’s 8-hour surprise unassisted homebirth. Despite initially feeling like my body’s betrayal, the miscarriage eventually came to represent my body functioning perfectly well: It had recognized the sad fact that this pregnancy could not continue in good health, and it did its work to minimize my suffering and help me become fertile again. (I would never say words like that to another woman undergoing miscarriage, but it helped in my own mind to hear it put that way!)
Would I choose a natural miscarriage if, heaven forbid, there’s a next time?
Yes, and maybe. If it were an early miscarriage, with bleeding and cramping that lasted at most a few weeks and gently subsided, with no signs of unusual odor, pain, or fever, then I absolutely would. In general, I prefer letting minor illnesses and other bodily problems run their course rather than seeking medical treatment if it’s not necessary. And it simply feels like a more fitting end to a miscarriage to me, to have it resolve within my own home, as I would have chosen the birth to be.
That said, if I had the same symptoms as last time, with months of unrelenting bleeding, I would now know to seek medical care. It bothers me that I was so alone and financially uncertain last time that healthcare seemed an unattainable option even if I’d really desired it. I wish all women of childbearing age could have affordable access to providers they could trust to care for them respectfully. I would try harder in the future to find a like-minded caregiver who could honor the miscarriage process but work with me to find a peaceful and health-affirming way to bring it to a close without any damage to my future fertility. Even though it turned out fine to have had retained tissue for five months, I feel in some ways I dodged a bullet in not having an infection or other complication, and I would like to be more circumspect should a similar situation arise. I’m satisfied with the way my own experience turned out, though.
It was a hard journey, and I wish miscarriage on no one. But in the end, I was glad for what I had learned from my short time with that baby (whom I named Robin) and the opportunity to give him a fitting end, and I was thankful for the lessons it taught me in trusting my body, loving my baby, and preparing for the pregnancy and natural childbirth to come.
Lauren blogs at Hobo Mama about natural and attachment parenting and is the co-founder of Natural Parents Network. She lives and writes in Seattle with her husband, four-year-old son, and four-month-old baby.
26 comments
Amy
October 21, 2011 at 10:05 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thank you so much for hosting this series. I feel it is very important to talk more about miscarriage, and these words do a great deal of work toward making it less taboo. Lauren, I really appreciate you sharing your story of natural miscarriage. I’m sorry you went through it, and I’m deeply sorry for your loss. I am glad that you’re willing to talk about it so candidly, though. It helps to know that there are always options when it comes to the end of a pregnancy, even when it ends before ~40 weeks gestation. Hugs to you.
Amy recently posted..Then Comes Tuesday
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 21, 2011 at 2:56 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thank you, too, Julia — I really appreciate that you’re showing this side of pregnancy and parenthood. It’s important for healing to know we’re not alone. Thank you for sharing my piece.
Amy: Thanks so much for your kind words! I appreciate it.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..We said goodbye to preschool
teresa
October 21, 2011 at 1:29 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
That’s an amazing story. I had two miscarriages before my daughter was born (also 4 now!). Both “early”. The first was close to 9 weeks and I guess it makes a big difference even from 10 weeks. SO much happens so fast. The first one was terrifying. Both were natural. More scary because of the Doctor and everything that happened with her… long story. Grrrr…..
Second one was only 6 weeks. Both hard in their own way, but I really remember being so shocked with the first one. It was before we knew how common it was.
So many feelings about all this…
Thank you for sharing your story. It’s true that there is something to be said for feeling the process in your body. I’m glad you we’re okay and I know you’re happy now with your boys. .
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 21, 2011 at 2:55 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
That must have been so hard to have 2 before your daughter. Miscarriage really was not something I expected to happen, either, and afterwards I had to struggle not to feel a combination of envious and resentful toward expecting parents who were blissfully unaware that miscarriage was a definite possibility. It was actually through sharing my story in person with people that allowed that to lift, because I discovered so many of these people I envied had in fact had losses of their own.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..We said goodbye to preschool
Rachel
October 21, 2011 at 1:44 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
My first two children [19 years apart] were c-sections. The first when I was young and stupid and the second after an attemped VBAC in a VBAC unfriendly state.
I got pregnant again when my youngest was about three. We were so excited and were just about to start sharing the news with family when I started cramping at 13 weeks. I went to a local gynecologist and miscarried in his waiting room. It felt like labor and I used the techniques that we learned in the Bradley Method to deal with the contractions.
The doctor did an ultrasound once they took me in back and confirmed that my uterus was empty and there was no need for a D&C, which I was grateful for.
Oddly enough, the miscarriage helped heal a little bit of the wound made by the c-sections. The doctor was amazed that I had done that in the waiting room without scaring his patients because I had to dilate to a three to release my poor baby from my body. It helped me to gain a little more confidence in my body’s abilities.
Strange how something so heart rending can also be a bit healing.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 21, 2011 at 2:58 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Wow, what a powerful story. I can see how having a successful labor and delivery, even through such a sad occasion, would be healing in light of your other birth experiences. I wish you continued healing and trust in your body. {Hugs.}
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..We said goodbye to preschool
Leanne
October 22, 2011 at 10:34 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
I miscarried at 13+ weeks (bleeding began at 13 weeks) but the baby had stopped progressing at 8 week. The midwife referred me for an in-hospital U/S to confirm there was no heartbeat after spotting began. The OB on staff came in to verify and give us our options. He strongly recommended a natural miscarriage, stating that the uterus was so small at that stage that D&C was dangerous and could impact future fertility.
My miscarriage was like a birth. I had a day of contractions that were progressively painful until I had to go to ER because the pain was making me hysterical. I’d already given birth without pain meds – with ease – before. The quality of these contractions were very, very different than labour and perhaps it was the context of them.
I wrote about this on my blog http://momcast.blogspot.com/2005/02/13-weeks-pregnant-and-all-i-got-was.html
Leanne recently posted..The Best Pork Chop Recipe Ever!
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:28 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Oh, wow, that is incredibly hard. I totally agree with you about the contractions being different, and I wasn’t sure, too, if it was just the emotional aspect of them. I was so panicky and sad that it’s hard to separate out what of the pain was physical and what emotional. Thank you for sharing your story.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Miscarriage Poetry at A Little Bit of All of It
BoCoMama
October 22, 2011 at 12:32 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thank you for sharing your story. I, too, had a miscarriage 9 weeks into our first pregnancy naturally and without intervention at home. Sisterhood is an important concept in this life experience that so many of us have but so few of us share. I can remember scouring the Internet to find support or at least one story that felt similar to mine. I’ve been vocal to the point of annoyance I’m sure when talking with friends about my experience. This helped me to feel my grief and honor our first baby’s short time with us. I feel that sharing has paid off as I have had other friends experience miscarriages since then and they know that they can find support from me and my husband. I loved reading your story.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:30 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
I totally agree and am glad that sharing helped bring you healing as well as letting you offer that listening ear to other friends. I had an experience recently where a friend was reluctant to talk about her miscarriage until she realized I had had one, too, and then it was like the floodgates opened and we could share. There’s something so powerful in that sisterhood, as you said.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Miscarriage Poetry at A Little Bit of All of It
All Natural Katie
October 22, 2011 at 4:34 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thank you so much for sharing so that there is at least one more story out there! I would have never ever considered doing it naturally because medicine and doctors have become so involved in the whole baby making process. Thank you for opening my eyes!
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:31 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
It’s true, isn’t it? It was so hard for me to find stories like mine when I needed them. I’m glad alternative options are being aired.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Miscarriage Poetry at A Little Bit of All of It
Lauren Douglas
October 22, 2011 at 10:16 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Hi there… I just wanted to thank you for writing this… I’m currently going through something very similar. Though I never had a positive on the pregnancy-stick, I’m fairly sure I’m currently going through the same thing.
It’s late, and I don’t want to write too much in just a small comment… But I wanted to thank you.
My husband and I had our son in February 2010 and he’s a healthy, happy, awesome little guy. As far as what’s going on with me, now… you’re right… There’s not much online about it. I’m completely blessed to have come across your post today because I really have been stressing about what is going on with my body. Like you, I’m not in pain, there’s no weird odor… Nothing seems to be different other than, ya know, the fact that I’ve been bleeding for a while now.
Oh, and we’re low on money, as you were. I’d considered going to an OB but we’re not covered and have our son and ourselves to take care of… We just couldn’t afford it. And I don’t want to hear ‘yep, you’re/you have miscarried and we need to do surgery NOW’ when I have confidence in my body. I never was near as confident until I was pregnant with my son in 2010. Our bodies are amazing.
Thanks again.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:33 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Oh, Lauren, hugs to you. I’m sorry you’re going through that. I’m glad your body seems to be carrying out the process the way it should, and I wish you healing.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Miscarriage Poetry at A Little Bit of All of It
Heather
October 23, 2011 at 3:21 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
My first miscarriage was similar, with off and on bleeding for months. Never knowing if it was finally over. Frustrating but freeing.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:33 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
“Frustrating but freeing” — how apt!
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Miscarriage Poetry at A Little Bit of All of It
Jessica
October 23, 2011 at 5:34 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thank you for sharing this Lauren.
Earlier this year I had a miscarriage and I found writing about the experience to be healing. I hope that you have found it the same.
After reading your post I wanted to post a poem I wrote after losing my baby as I think your experience has some similarities with mine. When I wrote the poem we knew that our baby had died because we had seen the scan but it was a “missed miscarriage” – I had had no physical signs that the baby was in danger. After weighing up our options we decided that I would wait for my body to clear naturally (rather than have an operation (D&C)or tablet to bring on contractions). Nothing much happened until Friday 27th May when my waters broke and I delivered the baby – a whole baby, smaller than my palm – but whole, and perfect. This was not what we had been led to expect would happen. Shortly after, I started haeomorrhaging and ended up being rushed to hospital. The bleeding slowed. They wanted to D&C but I wanted to let things happen naturally. Three days later I was rushed in again. I did then agree to have an op (They advised me that if I didn’t then I would bleed to death)– similar to D&C – and was given a transfusion to replace some of the blood I had lost.
I left the hospital feeling bewildered and violated. I was still bleeding but not so heavily as to cause concern. 2 weeks after having the op, which had supposedly removed any “contents” retained in my womb I passed one last large clot (similar to what you described). Obviously the D&C had not cleared everything. My womb did it itself, when the time was right.
Physically now I am better – good even, though it has knocked my previously very strong faith in my physical body. Emotionally I am doing well too.
Exactly a month after the scan when we found out he had died, our baby’s body was cremated at a local crematorium. Before all this happened I had never thought about what happens to the bodies of stillborn babies but I was so grateful that we had an opportunity to say goodbye to our little one’s physical body in this, quite formal, way.
Miscarriage, like birth, seems to be so different for every one – and every time. It is good to share our experiences.
Farewell to my baby
“It is not good news I’m afraid,
There is no movement,
No heart beat.”
No
Heart
Beat
And our hearts break
Snap, like ella’s crocodile.
11 weeks and 2 days
Just over 4cm
But with eyelids, hair and fingernails.
It is amazing how attached you get to someone you’ve never met.
Someone you only dreamed.
No
Heart
Beat
We will never hold you
Never see you smile
Never stroke your hair or
Sing you to sleep.
Not this time.
No
Heart
Beat
And even though we know
You chose to go to another safe place to wait for another time: your time
We grieve because that safe place is not with us.
No
Heart
Beat.
We have a picture of the shadow you.
The real you left 3 weeks and 2 days ago.
The night when ella screamed for hours and we didn’t know why.
She knew her little brother was gone.
No
Heart
Beat.
And now we wait for my body to give up yours, your earthy shell,
Which is still tucked within me.
Where it has been for such a long short time.
It is hard to let you go.
No
Heart
Beat.
I watch your sister and I see the way we will heal and accept that your too short stay was for good reason. I promise.
Goodbye my darling.
Mama
Jessica recently posted..The Call of the Sea
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:39 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Oh, Jessica, I have tears in my eyes. What a beautiful poem, and what a heartbreaking experience. I have to admit to being slightly envious that you got to hold your precious baby, whole, and also give a proper goodbye. I know that having some sort of ritual or ceremony can be quite healing — for me, it was a burial of that biggest clot since that was all I had.
I’m so sorry your body reacted so badly to the miscarriage but glad that you got the help you needed, and that your body resolved the rest in time. That’s really hard, though — I can see how your trust was shaken.
“Miscarriage, like birth, seems to be so different for every one – and every time. It is good to share our experiences.” Yes.
“The real you left 3 weeks and 2 days ago.
The night when ella screamed for hours and we didn’t know why.
She knew her little brother was gone.”
That is so powerful.
Thank you for sharing.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Miscarriage Poetry at A Little Bit of All of It
Megan
October 26, 2011 at 12:53 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
this post & the comments were so moving.. thank you so much for sharing. everyone. I have no children and have never been pregnant, but my heart is with you even though I can’t imagine what you have been through. Hugs to all.
Megan
Megan recently posted..Bad Nanny recommends .. an Abacus!
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
October 27, 2011 at 2:41 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thanks so much, Megan. I know we all appreciate your kind words.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Calling for submissions for the November Carnival of Natural Parenting!
Lisa C
November 2, 2011 at 11:25 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Sorry it took me so long to finally read this. Thank you for sharing your story. I’m glad women are willing to write about their miscarriages….other women need to hear these stories.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
November 2, 2011 at 4:57 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Thank you so much, Lisa. I appreciate it, and I totally agree that these stories need to keep being shared.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..Introducing NaNoProgMo: National Novel Progress Month!
Susan
December 1, 2011 at 1:18 am (UTC -5) Link to this comment
I just had a very similar experience. Being financially stricken poor by life circumstances, I too waited for a natural miscarriage.
At 7.5 weeks I was told the heartbeat was very low, then a couple of weeks later I was told the baby was dead. For 4 weeks nothing happened, then I started spotting brown blood and small stringy clots. I spotted for a full month, then it suddenly stopped. I went to the doc, but the ultrasound showed the baby was gone (possibly absorbed) yet 90% of the sac and tissues were still there.
I was given the option to wait or have a D&C. My doctor was very kind, and I told him I would rather wait since circumstances were not the best to schedule surgery or pay for it.
MONTHS go by with nothing happening except maybe 3 or 4 random days of light brown staining. I felt absolutely fine though. I am very thankful I had those few months without physical pain to be able to deal with things going on in my life at the time. It also gave me time to deal with the emotional pain and come to peace with losing the baby.
Finally at 27 weeks!! I suddenly had spotting of bright red blood. The next day the same thing, then that evening I finally passed everything.
WARNING: This story may be graphic!!!
I felt the need to pee really badly suddenly – I felt wet and when I looked it was about a tablespoon of blood in my pants. I ran to the bathroom and when I sat on the toilet suddenly a big Whoosh! of blood and fist-sized clumps came out. The toilet was full of blood. I nearly fainted. I laid on the floor and sat on the toilet alternately for 3-4 hours having what I would describe as “contractions” (I’ve never had labor, so I don’t really know, but they were rhythmic in nature with breaks in between). I did breathing and mind focusing through the worst of the pain, but I admit I was literally writhing on the floor for some of it. Finally, after lots of HUGE blood clots came out, it suddenly seemed if nothing else was coming out. Yet I was in excruciating pain and AWFUL contractions with lots of pressure down in my pelvis. I started pushing but it was hard and painful.
Eventually, I started to be in so much pain I decided I might need to call an ambulance (I was home alone)… I was feeling faint and I didn’t want to black out alone. Yet before I did, I decided to feel around down there and I noticed something hanging out. I was in so much pain I was desperate for anything to get better, so I grabbed it and gently pulled to help it out. Suddenly it slid out and I realized it was the sac/placenta. It looked like a deflated gray balloon – very thick and unbreakable.
As soon as the sac was out of me, the pain was nearly instantly gone. It was miraculous. I still cramped a bit, but nothing at all like before! No more contractions. I was so relieved, and called my mom (I had called her when this whole process started because I nearly panicked when I lost so much blood at the beginning) and told her I was okay and not going to the ER after all.
All was well, and now a couple of days later I am still spotting. I am thankful that my body was able to finally take care of this on it’s own. However, I still don’t understand WHY my body refused to pass anything of significance for 4 MONTHS. I miscarried at 2 months, and I was around 6 months when this finally all happened – Isn’t that crazy??
I was glad to find your story of such a long miscarriage as well, so I see I’m not the only one! It’s amazing what our bodies can do.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama
December 1, 2011 at 1:58 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Wow, Susan, what a story. I have to admit, I was worried FOR you as I was reading. I’m sorry you had to be alone and scared through that! So glad you are well and that everything came out as it should — eventually. It is so odd that sometimes our bodies hold it in for so long. Definitely an exercise in trusting.
Lauren @ Hobo Mama recently posted..How to take a blogging break from Code Name: Mama
Susan
December 1, 2011 at 7:18 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
I definitely don’t recommend my story to anyone… it was more of a cautionary tale. The ironic part was I finally had enough money together I had called that very morning before it happened to schedule a D&C finally. So now I don’t have to have one after all. The doctor did a sonogram yesterday and said while I am still bleeding, it looks like most of the tissue is finally out.
If I had any idea this whole process was going to take so long, I definitely would have done something sooner. I guess everything happens for a reason.
Kristin
January 2, 2012 at 4:57 pm (UTC -5) Link to this comment
Lauren,
Thank you so much for this post. Just this last week I expereinced a “natural” miscarriage at 11 weeks. Reading about your experience and the experiences of others who have commented is so comforting. Somehow just knowing these feelings and emotions are not unique to my situation makes me feel so much better and much less alone.