Yesterday, I Had Miscarriage

This was not my first miscarriage.  I had what they call a chemical pregnancy (which is basically a very early miscarriage) back in September. 

Before all of this, I had only experienced miscarriage through others – stories from my mother’s experience (having a miscarriage between me and my sister) and other friends and relatives struggling with pregnancy.  Particularly with my friends and relatives closer to my age I had always been a little surprised at how much they mourned their miscarriage and  how much sadness it caused.  I had never been able to identify with that feeling and, at the time, had never experience one – so who was I to judge? 

But it all didn’t seem to add up to me.  I mean, isn’t the whole process of miscarriage your body processing the amazing task of recognizing that the pregnancy is not developing correctly and getting rid of it (like it’s supposed to)?  Is that not the most healthy, natural, and fortunate thing that could happen to everyone involved (including the unborn child)?  Isn’t it great to know that you can get pregnant (given all the couples that struggle with pregnancy for years)? I had always thought it was and, now after having two, I still do.  In fact, the miscarriage I just had was the most intense and empowering experience and I’m so glad that it happened to me. 

I have been terrified of pregnancy ever since I had the notion that “one day” I would have a child.  I was terrified of getting fat and staying fat, terrified of giving birth (the pain, the tearing of my vagina, the whole experience) and terrified of loosing myself.  As The Business of Being Born describes it, most women are made to feel like they don’t know how to give birth – and I sure felt that message.  In fact, most (not all) of my imagined scenarios of me giving birth have me dying immediately after.  Contrast that with my partner who, I don’t think, had feelings one way or the other except that he wanted children (another topic). 

Nevertheless, I decided that I was ready and wanted to be a pregnant.  And this time (at least we thought) I finally was.  I struggled through the months of nausea, exhaustion, and basically all the other symptoms that come with this alien (and the hormones) that literally takes over your entire body - physically and emotionally.  Like learning how to accept the fact that “holy shit, I’m really pregnant,” I had to learn how to exist in my new body with new feelings and limitations, for example, when it wanted to eat and what it wanted to eat.  It required me to have to spend a lot of energy and thought on the parts of life that had become automatic – it was taxing!  And my partner had to learn how to co-exist with this new body and person – the pregnant, tired, nauseous, emotional and unpredictable wife – much different that who he married. 

We gracefully got through all of that and made it to our first midwife appointment in our 11th week.  We covered both of our medial and familial history, drew the blood, peed in the cup, all of it.  We even tried to listen to the baby’s heartbeat – but didn’t get to hear it.  We thought it was likely due to the fact that my uterus was so tilted toward the back that the sonogram couldn’t reach the fetus through my pelvis bone and that, next time, we’d be able to hear it.  After that milestone we left feeling even more on the baby-train and ready to really embark on this journey.  Only a few more days until we could start sharing our news.

Within a week of that appointment, I had a miscarriage.  And this miscarriage was nothing like my chemical miscarriage back in September.  First thing was different was the agony of determining if I was really having a miscarriage or just having normal spotting and, if I was having a miscarriage, when it would actually happen.  Once we had determined that the miscarriage was inevitable, my doctor had already told me that I probably want to be at home and not stuck at work because when the miscarriage started I would be uncomfortable, so I had already planned with work to be out for the week.  Then she proceeds to tell me that I could spot for 2 – 3 weeks before the miscarriage happens – I couldn’t keep telling my office “just one more day”.

The other thing that was different is how it went down.  Luckily, everything transpired within 3 days of when I started to spot and under the best circumstances possible: it was 8 PM, both my partner and I were home, well fed and nobody else was at the house.  I had spoken to my midwife about what to expect and what would be considered warning signs.  She explained that I would have a period and I would experience contractions – that I would likely feel sweaty and nauseous.  This didn’t sound too much different than when I had bad cramping during my period – so  I concluded that this miscarriage would be a really bad period with some contractions instead of cramps.  OK.

Not so much.  What really happened is a labored, and gave birth to, a fetus.  Literally, I went into labor with contractions for about 2 hours before passing the fetus.  While it was very tissue-y looking, it was the size and length of two fingers put together, and you could see the shape of a small head, arms and black beads for eyes.  After that I had a somewhat normal period that was longer than normal and where I passed more clots than normal.

Having gone through a mini-birthing process was the most intense and empowering experience for both of us.  Mostly because it demystified birth in a way that it didn’t feel like something to fear and like something that, while very challenging, we could handle.  We were proud to have managed through it on our own in the comfort of our own home.  And when it was done, it felt like the right thing had happened.  I couldn’t have felt more healthy at that moment.

And while we’re both disappointed to have gone through the hardest part of the first trimester without a baby as the reward, we don’t at all feel a sense of loss or mourning.  Yet, of the few people who did know we were pregnant, many of those who knew about our miscarriage expected us to be saddened and mourning like so many people we had known before us. My sister-in-law even sent us a card that reassured us that our baby was with Jesus.  It was all very strange and hard to explain to people, “no really, we’re not sad.” 

In fact, since having gone through my miscarriage – and read so much about it – I find people’s reactions not only strange, but also horrifying.  There are a lot of poor attitudes and misinformation that exists today around miscarriage especially as it pertains to vilification and brutality toward women.  These constructs are amplified in an interesting way when the topic turns toward elective termination. 

When reading about “miscarriage,” none of the articles spoke about miscarriage as a natural process.  There was also no mention of the sex partner in these articles.  I was most shocked to find Wikipedia article that sites yoga, acupuncture, and receiving kicks or blow to the stomach as methods of causing a miscarriage, while the Mayo Clinic explicitly states that exercise is not a cause of miscarriage – and of course they don’t mention kicks or blows to the stomach as causes of miscarriage because that would imply someone beating the living shit out of you.  Even worse, a 17-year old girl who went to a Yahoo newsgroup to get advice on how to terminate her pregnancy was told by several people on the group that she was evil, that the problem was all on her, and that she should kill herself.  While there were several people that attempted to defend and help this scared young women, there was no mention of her sex partner  and his responsibility in all of this.

I realize that this just a glimpse of information and glossing over a lot and it’s a pretty sad commentary on how we as a culture think about miscarriage.  I do hope that if I ever decide to get pregnant again and I am able have a child that we will have evolved past this kind of thinking.  Because, where we are right now, I think it kind of sucks the way it is.