Betsy, 38

​I had two miscarriages prior to the birth of our first son. We began “trying” like everyone does with no expectations, but a lot of hopes. I wasn't prepared for it. Not sure if anyone is. I blamed it on so many things. I hadn't taken good enough care of my body. I was too stressed. It must have been that deli sandwich I ate. I was on birth control too long. Or maybe too many years of partying in college. So many factors all with one common denominator: me.
 
We were rookies at the miscarriage process so had a whole weekend to know for sure; to see if our numbers were rising or not rising. When the blood came, I still held onto hope and to internet searches of “bleeding during pregnancy ok”. Then confirmed on a Monday: miscarriage. A word that is terrifying, daunting and vomit-inducing when happening to you.  I remember crying myself to sleep promising I would make it right. Such a big promise for something so fragile.
 
Armed with my promise and body prepared this time, we tried again. My mind made up this lie that we had the miscarriage out of the way so the second time was meant to be. And then it happened again. Same emotions. Blindsided. Shocked. Darkness.
 
I can give the perspective now of “it was just meant to happen” but that is only because I have two beautiful boys that I wouldn't change a thing about. During it, however, I was overwhelmed with guilt. That is how I am wired. The third time resulted in our 6-year old son. I walked on the proverbial eggshells for him and I wouldn’t have changed a thing (now).
 
Flash forward to trying for our second child. I was ready this time. Much more relaxed; most likely because I had one child and I figured if this is what God planned, so be it.  Plus, I had friends still trying for their first, so I reminded myself often to be blessed and to be grateful. I was also strangely prepared for a miscarriage- or so I thought. We tried casually for a year with no results. We stepped up our game, which is code for counting to 10 after your period and doing the deed every other day. Still no results. I became obsessed with pregnancy tests. I took them too early, too often and experienced several chemical pregnancies (meaning my hormones could turn a test, I guess). These brought the same excitement of a true pregnancy and the same feelings of loss from a miscarriage, but just a quicker process and a new feeling of embarrassment.
 
With my doctor's approval, I went to an acupuncturist, which I highly recommend, as it opened my eyes to a whole-body approach. Everything is connected. I found it fascinating enough that I even tried the awful tasting herbs. My acupuncturist said if she had to pick one - needles or the herbs - she would recommend the herbs for the most results. They are taken daily and needles are only once a session. Well, soon after I was pregnant! Viola!
 
This time I got further than the last before the miscarriage began consuming me. We went for our first ultrasound and that is when we found out. I had no idea. Did I not know my body? I started the bleeding process the next day and I remember wishing it had happened before that ultrasound. Such a special moment shattered. That is how I felt: shattered. I was not prepared. I hadn't managed my expectations...can you? I had a miscarriage and it just sucked. The possibilities of more loss, the knowing you would have to wait cycles before you tried again- those months felt like a lifetime. Again, I hope I can offer here a sense of “it was meant to be.” But that is only because my next pregnancy resulted in the birth of my almost two-year old son. That time felt like a blip. You tell yourself that during the process but I wish you could blip it right then. I wish I could blip it for you: the reader.
 
My pick-me-back-ups were different each pregnancy. Remember, I am wired for guilt. So, I didn't want to lay too much on too many people. I found my healing outlets through my husband, my family, my friends and a counselor. There were moments where only one would help and moments where I needed all of them to wipe the tears away. The ache was always there. But you aren't alone. The people who love you ache too. I remember my sister going through her miscarriages and my heart broke each time. Everyone feels it. Yet as the mother, you are reminded of it much more often.