I had a miscarriage on January 19, 2004. I was twelve weeks pregnant. It started at home with light spotting and a feeling of something being off. As the day went on, the bleeding got worse and by the afternoon, I called my husband to meet me at the doctor. I was frantic. By mid-afternoon, I was in the cramped parking lot at my obstetrician’s office, my two year old son in tow. I parked as a woman in the car next to mine fiddled with her phone. I couldn’t open my son’s door; she was too close. She saw but ignored me. Finally, I started to cry. And then I screamed at her.

“Lady! I’m having a miscarriage right now! Can you pull out so I can get to the doctor?”

I remember sweating, and crying, and cleaning and crying, and cleaning.

She was horrified, mumbled something, looked sick, avoided my eyes and quickly drove away.

My husband met me in the office. He had the firm look of denial on his face. I was sweating, terrified, and bleeding. He took our two-year-old and I went to the rest room while the front office got the on-call doctor up to speed.

And that’s where it really happened. I was alone, with paper towels in the rest room at my doctor’s office. And, it was horrific. I cried, tears racking my body as I lost more and more blood. I was shaking, disbelieving, on auto-pilot, cleaning, crying, and shooing away knocks on the bathroom door. I was suspended in time, but I’m sure it was at LEAST twenty minutes, maybe more. I remember sweating, and crying, and cleaning and crying, and cleaning. I was so concerned with not leaving a mess. And the lights; the bathroom lights were so bright, fluorescent bright lights shrieking at me as I lost my baby.

Finally, I went to an exam room and we all looked at a blank, still ultrasound screen. There were no little blips of a heartbeat. There was nothing. Just grey fuzz. I cried. I was a shell. My husband was stoic, holding our son—why did he bring him in room? I guess because he was only two, where would he go? The on-call doctor retrieved my doctor. She grabbed me in a hug and cried with me.

Miscarriages are common. They just aren’t readily talked about.

I was numb. I was exhausted. I was lost. Finally, there was nothing more to say or do. We stayed a few minutes, I got as cleaned up as I could, and we went home. I slept. I cried. We cried. I spent the weekend resting, feeling everything, feeling nothing. We told our family.

Our baby was gone.

And then, I talked about it. It was a death to me. To us. And my friends, my real friends did what friends do: they sent flowers, they brought meals, they cried with me, they hugged me and made soothing noises. I also found that I wasn’t alone. Of course I wasn’t. Miscarriages are common. They just aren’t readily talked about.

What surprised me, what filled my heart, was the response to my vulnerability. People, not just friends, but acquaintances, the woman I sat next to at spin class, the aerobics teacher at the gym, they all scooped me into a giant hug and held me until I no longer needed holding. They told me their stories. And my pain became their pain. Together we healed.

And, it made some people uncomfortable. And that was just too bad.

It’s hard to be authentic. We risk rejection. We rationalize hiding our true selves. On one level, it makes sense. And yet, it makes no sense. If we don’t share our true selves, then who do we share? Many people, even those we consider friends, won’t respond to honesty and depth. But then we’ve learned something. We have further defined that relationship. So many friendships bloom when fed with truth and openness. And, we grow closer, we grow stronger. We see that we are not alone. We speak our soul, and we are heard.

We all share life experiences and grow from honesty and openness. What isolates us is silence.

Author

Jenny Kanevsky is the author of the mystery Chosen Quarry and a copywriter and content marketing provider. Visit her site jennykanevsky.com She is also an editor at The Good Men Project and a contributor at Huffington Post . She lives in Austin, Texas.

15 Comments

  1. I had a miscarriage on April 12th, 2011 and every year on that day I mourn the loss of my baby – because you’re right, it is a loss. It’s amazing that in the year 2015 this topic is still so taboo. Thank you for sharing your story.

  2. Thanks for sharing your story and your authentic self! I, too, had a miscarriage, and it was devastating. Like you, I talked about and was surprised not only with how many women I know have also miscarried, but how many of them had never told anyone. Hearing another person’s story gave them permission to share their own. So thank you for helping make this painful topic less taboo!

  3. Thank you all for commenting. It’s such a loss and it’s easy to isolate, especially as so many don’t recognize the depth of pain. I hope it can become a less taboo subject as women start sharing more and offering support. So many of us have been there.

  4. You really poured your heart out on this one…this is such an important topic and I wish we were more open about it.

  5. So often it’s recommended that parents hold off on their baby news until they are past the 3 month mark because, as you say, miscarriages are common. I have been very lucky and I haven’t had to go through a miscarriage. But the advice to wait to share the news was not advice that I’ve ever taken because I would want my loved ones to know if I had suffered a loss like you had. And, I would want to be there for them if they went through it because, as you say: “So many friendships bloom when fed with truth and openness. And, we grow closer, we grow stronger. We see that we are not alone. We speak our soul, and we are heard.” Thanks for sharing your story, Jenny.

    • Thanks for reading, Shannon. I agree 100% on the sharing the news. I’ve never been one to hide what’s going on with me, good or bad. Life is more full with people who love and support and know us. I appreciate your comment.

    • Shannon, that was exactly how I felt too. That and the fact everyone thought I was being lazy at work falling asleep at my desk. In all seriousness, I don’t know how I would have managed if I couldn’t talk it out with family and friends. Jenny thank you for this lovely post and reminding people it’s ok to talk about these things. xx

  6. I JUST READ YOUR STORY ABOUT YOUR MISCARRIAGE,I LOST A PREGNANCY 7 YEARS AGO MY WAS 2 THEN ,NOW HE’S FIXING TO TURN 9 ON THE 9TH OF MAY,IF I HADN’T OF LOST THE BABIES SEPT 9&18 HE WOULD’VE HAD MORE SIBLINGS TO PLAY WITH ALL THE TIME! WHEN IT STARTED HAPPENING I HAD A LOT OF THE SAME SYMPTOMS THAT YOU HAD EXCEPT THAT I HAD TAKEN MY SON AND HIS OLDER SISTER TO THE MALL AND I STARTED CRAMPING SO I TOLD MY DAUGHTER TO WATCH HER BROTHER WHILE I WENT TO THE REST ROOM AND REALIZE IWAS LIGHTLY BLEEDING,AND BY THE TIME I GOT HOME IT HAD PICKED UP A LITTLE,SO I CALLED THE DOCTOR AND TOLD THEM WHAT WAS GOING ON AND THEY TOLD ME TO STAY OFF MY FEET WELL THAT DIDN’T WORK AT ALL, LATER THAT NIGHT MY HUSBAND WAS IN THE MIDDLE OF HIS BIBLE STUDY AND I HAD WENT TO THE BATHROOM AND BEFORE I COULD MAKE IT I STARTING GUSSING AND BLEEDING DOWN MY LEGS SO WE CALLED MY PARENTS SO THERE WOULD BE SOMEONE TO WATCH THE KIDS WHO AT THE TIME WERE 10 AND 2 SO WHEN THEY GOT THERE WE WERE ALREADY ON OUR WAY TO THE EMERGENCY ROOM AND TOOK FOREVER TO GET IN AND GET THE ULTRA SOUND DONE AND FOUND OUT THE SAME AS YOU DID THERE WAS NOTHING ON THE SCREEN JUST A BLANK SCREEN! I WAS SO MAD AT MY HUSBAND THAT NIGHT BUT MORE SO JUST HURTING BECA– USE I WAS REALLY READY FOR MORE CHILDREN AND IT JUST NEVER HAPPENED AGAIN AFTER WE LOST THAT PREGNANCY! I WAS SO AFRAID IF DID ANYTHING AND GOT PREGNANT AGAIN WE’D MISCARRY AGAIN! BUT WE HAVE NEVER BEEN ABLE TO HAVE MORE KIDS AND I GOT EVERYTHING CHECKED OUT AFTER THE MISCARRIAGE THEY SAID THERE REALLY WASN’T ANYTHING THAT THEY COULD SEE WHY WE COULDN’T GET PREGNANT AGAIN! I’M 44 NOW AND DON’T PLAN ANYMORE BABIES!

  7. I had my first miscarriage in 1988, and 4 more to come ending with the last one in 1997. It was the lonliest time in my life. At the time no one talked about it. I would not have made it through if I had not have found the best support group- Helping after neonatal death (HAND.). To all the others who have suffered with this pain, my heart goes out to you!

  8. I just miscaried yesterday at 11 weeks n cant stop crying.it felt as if I went through a mini labour.i am reliving the experience I my mind n feel so guilty as I probably flashed d baby n the toilet when it got out of me….

    • We send our love, Zuzana! Don’t feel guilty; it’s not your fault you miscarried. Tell your loved ones and let them heal you with their love.

  9. I miscarried at 7 weeks, I saw the heartbeat at 6 weeks. I have so many emotions, I feel sad, lonely, angry, guilty, embarrassed. I also felt that every time I flushed the toilet I flushed my baby with it. I have told some friends and they are helping me, sending flowers and letting me know that they are there for me. That this IS happening and it IS a loss, that I need to mourn.

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