I had a missed miscarriage...

"You had a missed miscarriage - you can start trying again as soon as you have your next period" were the only real words I heard the doctor say to me as I left my appointment. "This happens to 1 in 5 women", she said - "it's very common". But if it was so common, why had I never really heard of it before?

At 30 years old, I had only ever heard of women getting pregnant and giving birth. All of my friends had experienced the same thing - they took a test; it was positive and nine months later they were holding a newborn baby. This is what I assumed happened when you took a pregnancy test and it was positive.

I learned the hard way that it is not always the case.

My husband Chris and I had decided that we would wait to get married before having a baby. Since he already had a son from a previous relationship, we felt no immediate need to jump into the baby making game and opted instead for building our life together first and that a baby would just come after we tied the knot. After all, getting pregnant would be easy right?...

Chris and I married on September 1, 2019 and stopped actively trying to not get pregnant (or " we pulled the goalie" as we would refer to it to friends and family). We weren't actively trying but we weren't trying to stop it from happening. No pressure, no stress.

And yet, every period I experienced was like a dagger in my heart. "What the hell is wrong with me?" "We're not even trying to be careful and I can't do the one thing that a woman is supposed to be able to do." It was hard to share this with Chris as it had only really been a couple of months since the wedding and we weren't really "trying" so what did I have to be concerned about. It would happen when it happens is what he and I would tell myself every time I got my period.

And then on January 20th, after coming home early from work because I wasn't feeling too well, I took a test to rule out pregnancy. I was greeted by two pink lines. I sent a text to Chris with the picture of the test saying "Um, I think this means we're pregnant?!"

I could not contain my excitement. Looking back now, I understand why people tell you that you should wait until 12-14 weeks to bring people in on the news but in that moment (and with the naivety of someone who has never had to experience pregnancy loss), I couldn't help myself. I told SO MANY PEOPLE. Why wouldn't I? In just nine short months, Chris and I would be welcoming our newest member into our family. We needed everyone to know how excited we were.

I called my doctor's office to book an appointment - I assumed that they would also need to run their own tests to confirm the pregnancy (they didn't) but instead sent me for blood work and gave me a requisition for a dating ultrasound that would confirm the due date. I called and booked everything that day, noted my calendar and began impatiently waiting for the ultrasound.

On February 15th, (the day before my stepson Logan's birthday), Chris and I made our way to the clinic, excited to catch a glimpse of our growing baby and to find out when we could expect their arrival. Having been only a couple of weeks, the person who had booked the appointment had already advised us that they might have to use the internal probe in order to get a good look at the baby. So when the technician couldn't see anything on the scan, we didn't think too much of it. It was only during the internal scan that I started to get a little anxious. She kept taking measurements and talking to herself and not really saying anything to us other than "are you sure about the date of your last period?" I was sure. "We'll send these results to your doctor", she said. "She'll probably have you book another ultrasound in a week or so. It might just be too early to see anything".

Another ultrasound was booked on February 28th. Chris and I made our way to the clinic again, hopeful to see our baby. We would be greeted by the same news. The technician couldn't find anything - we're we sure our dates were correct? They would be sending my results to my doctor so that she could discuss with me. My heart sank and we left the clinic in silence.

The next week would be filled with multiple trips to the LifeLabs clinic to get blood drawn. This was required in order to monitor whether my HCG levels were doubling (they need to double every 24 hours in order to show a viable pregnancy). Since they had neglected to take my initial HCG levels in the first appointment I had had back in January, they needed to get a baseline and then get two to three more samples. Looking back, I am so glad I told my boss that I was pregnant because I don't know how I would have explained having to come in late (as I would head to the LifeLabs clinic in the morning before I started my shift) so many times in that week. LifeLabs also provides you with your test results within 24 hours so I spent a lot of time refreshing the app in order to view and make sense of them.

After the week ended, I had a follow up appointment with my doctor. Chris was unable to attend so I asked my mom to come with me. As we sat in the office waiting for my doctor, we tried to talk about anything and everything but the news I might be getting. Even though I had the first appointment of the morning, my doctor still managed to be 30 minutes late, so we had a lot of time to talk about nothing.

When she finally arrived, she sat us down in her office and began to go through the results with me. "This pregnancy is not viable - your HCG levels aren't where they are supposed to be for this far along. I believe you are having what's called a missed miscarriage. You have a few options for dealing with this which include taking a medication, having a D&C or opting for the wait and see method." I couldn't even look at her in the face. I could feel myself getting hot and kept thinking that she was wrong. I had spent the last couple of days pouring over the internet researching stories of other women who, like me, had ultrasounds which showed nothing but then went on to have their babies. There were so many of them. So many women who said that their technicians had been wrong and that after a couple of weeks they were able to see a healthy baby growing inside them. This was the hope I clung to. The technicians were wrong. She was wrong - she had no idea what she was talking about. I would be one of those women. I had to be.

Looking back, I think I asked for the D&C as I knew this would involve one last ultrasound before the procedure was to take place. I think I was holding out hope that a more skilled technician would look in my uterus and say, "Hold up, there is something in here - you're pregnant after all". I didn't realize that scheduling a D&C would require a visit to an OBGYN as my doctor was a family doctor and couldn't provide me a requisition for the procedure. This required me to book another appointment across town, to have another ultrasound (where they would see nothing again) and to wait for a male OBGYN to tell me my options (yet again). This time I was adamant about the D&C. I want this over with, I kept saying.

My appointment for the D&C procedure was to take place on March 12th. I was told that if I experienced any cramping or bleeding before this date that I would need to contact them immediately as the procedure may not be necessary. And as luck would have it, I would get to experience a miscarriage two days before the appointment (on my mom's birthday, no less). Again, I am so fortunate that my boss was aware of what was going on as she had instructed me to stay home that week in case I had any issues leading up to the procedure. I am still so thankful that she had the foresight to know that this could have been a possibility. I could not have imagined miscarrying at work.

And yet it was nothing like I imagined it would be. All my portrayals of miscarriages had been in the movies.

A woman falls and bleeds.

A woman wakes up in the night or morning and she's bled.

There was no mention of the pain. The pain was excruciating.

I remember thinking I was going to die. There was so much blood. As I was instructed to do, I called the hospital to let them know. I remember them asking for me to monitor my bleeding and to call an ambulance if I was bleeding a lot. I remember thinking, how can it be more than this? This seems like an awful lot. I still don't know how a woman who has never experienced a miscarriage is supposed to gauge what is an appropriate amount of blood to lose. I still don't think I'll ever know the answer to that question.

I spent that evening curled up in my bed with my dog, some TV show which I don't even remember now and my stepson (after he came home from school). I remember Chris coming home from work to a dark house and calling up "Hello... is anyone home?" I spent the next couple of days just going through the motions until my appointment at the hospital.

My appointment at the Riverside hospital was scheduled for 12:15 PM. I wasn't sure of the etiquette for a D&C appointment, so Chris and I showed up at 12 PM in order to be punctual. We would only end up being seen by someone at 1 PM. Again, I was instructed to have another ultrasound. I remember telling the technician "Do you guys think my uterus is Narnia? I really don't know what you're hoping to find in there" She laughed nervously as she told me it was just procedure to ensure there was nothing left in my uterus after the miscarriage and to rule out having to get the actual D&C. After I was told to wait in another waiting room until I could be seen by another person with my results. I'm sure it wasn't long, but it felt like an eternity.

Finally, I was greeted by the woman who had booked my initial appointment at the hospital. I told her that I was really confused of why I had been booked at 12:15 PM if I would only be seen at 1 PM. She explained to me that they couldn't guarantee the times and that they like to book people earlier in case they're able to get through the procedures quicker. She then led me to another room to talk with a nurse who would tell me that I did not need to get the D&C procedure as "all of the tissue was now out". I remember asking her what the likelihood was that it was all out and that I wouldn't have to come back to remove anything that might be remaining. "It's all out", she assured me.

The next day I had some bad cramping while going to the washroom. The best way to describe it was a lot of pressure in my back and my uterus. That accompanied with a very foul odour made me immediately contact my local clinic as I had read (trusty Google) that it could be an infection which could lead to infertility or (worse) death. As we were now in the beginning stages of the COVID crisis, I was very worried about taking space away from someone who needed to see a doctor (and even putting myself into more danger going to the clinic when I didn't actually have to be there). The person I spoke to on the phone told me that I should definitely come in as it could be an infection for which I might need antibiotics.

After about an hour I was seen by one of the most indifferent doctors I have ever experienced. He listened to my story about my miscarriage, asked me about my symptoms and then proceeded to provide me with a swab. "Here, swab yourself", he instructed. "Once you're done, put it in the basket and we'll call you with your results". He left the room and disappeared into another one.

The following day I was called by the clinic and informed "you have an infection". I was prescribed some antibiotics which I went to pick up that exact same day - hopeful that soon this nightmare would be over with.

The next morning, I woke up and went to take a shower. I remember feeling my face as I washed it thinking that it seemed a little swollen. As I wear contacts, it was only after putting them in that I noticed by body was also covered in a rash. Awesome.

I called the clinic again, not wanting to go in case it was necessary, and the phone was answered by a doctor. Since they were a little short that day, she had answered the phone in order to help out. I'm so thankful she did. She seemed very concerned about my facial swelling and told me to come in immediately and to cease taking the antibiotics I had been prescribed. She had me explain all of the events leading up to me coming into the clinic and listened intently (always asking for clarifications if she misunderstood). When I finally finished, she said the most important thing I could have ever heard, "this chapter of your life is now closed - you can move on from this and try again when you're ready". It was the first time I felt that someone actually cared about what was going on with me and actually understood what I needed to hear. She will never know how much I needed to hear those words from her.

So why am I sharing this so candidly on my blog? Aside from the few people I shared my story with, I had never felt more alone in my struggle. Since miscarriage affects 1 in 5 women, I know that there will be more women who go through this experience and others who have and have maybe not felt comfortable sharing theirs, as it's a deeply personal. I hope that by sharing mine that someone else might not feel so alone in theirs and understand that it's not your fault this happened to you.

Since most women don't share the news of their pregnancy before the 12th or 14th week, experiencing one can be extremely lonely. Our society has a hard time with talking about death so many people will also not know how to have a conversation with you about it out of fear that they will say the wrong thing. If you have a woman in your life who has experienced a miscarriage, the best advice I can give is to ask them what kind of support they need from you. Be there to listen to their struggle and their story. Try to resist the urge to tell them they can always try again (I know this is always meant well but it also can diminish the loss of the pregnancy they are currently mourning) and instead let them lead the conversation. I promise that just being there for them is more than enough.