#earlypregnancyloss

[theworldaccordingtolittleoldme]

miscarriage

when i was 24 years and 51 weeks old i was rushed into hospital bleeding and 8 weeks pregnant, the day before my birthday. it’s hard to explain what my husband, me and my body went through. In the moment it feels like no one understands, but in reality far to many people do. Its the strangest feeling in early pregnancy to loose your baby so early. Most people didn't know you were expecting let alone had gone through one of the worst things as a person you can experience,loosing a child. 

You can’t explain the feeling of being so upset about something that was invisible to everybody. yet when you tell people they all say the same to you.

“it’s okay you can try again.” The thoughts of trying again so soon made me feel like we were pushing aside and forgetting our little blip. 

“you are only young, you have plenty of time.” Being young does not erase the fact that your first baby is gone. whether i had have been older or not i would have hurt the same way. 

Some days the empty hole in my body where my baby should be is all i can think about. other days it barely crosses my mind except when im on my own.

the idea of trying again terrifies me. the idea that this could happen again kills me daily. the feeling that my body could betray me again by failing to do the one thing that it is made to do is something i have to try and get out of my brain.

My little hidden blip i will always love you and never forget our few short weeks together.

[ladylenaonair]

There is no pain like losing a baby, and a local nonprofit is doing its part to provide comfort to grieving families. Featured: @MetroDetroitShare By: Darlene A. White (@LadyLenaOnAir) Read More: DetroitNews.con #PregnacyLoss #InfantLoss #MetroDetroutShare #NonProfit #Grief #griefsupport #earlypregnancyloss #supportgroup #Michigan #MetroDetroit #stillborn #supportsmallbusinesses #AngieWinton (at Detroit, Michigan) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cc2swz0O4rA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[plushorganicskincare]

Fresh face forward, working from home,okay now, I need My coffee! New things will be afoot on Plush Organic SkinCare! Also, have You signed up for My new rewards program? Yah, when You order something, You get POINTS towards discounts and FREE STUFF!! Go shop! 15% OFF still storewide! Proceeds of My Mothers Day basket go to a special cause called @spikesangels go look them up and follow them! #plushorganicskincare #spikesangels #charityfundraiser #mothersofangelbabies #motherofanangelbaby #miscarriageawareness #earlypregnancyloss #fridaymood #fruitenzymeskincare #skincareshop #naturalskincare #organicskincareproducts💋 #organicskincare #crueltyfreebeauty #healthyskincare #gainesvillewellness #floridawellness #gainesvilleflorida #smallbusinessskincare #spabusiness https://www.instagram.com/p/CO29VvZjQgw/?igshid=6s0bxlfn6imx

[spacesnail91]

*Trigger warning*

You may have been only three months in my womb, but I loved you through and through. I knew I had to protect you. So when the boot came down, I understood I failed. I finally realized what it meant to love so strongly. Truth be told, I wasn't ready, and I knew it. Some may not understand the pain. You may have been only cells, and you may have never meant to be. I shed many tears for the pain of failure and loss I may shed more. You showed me I had good still in my heart. Thank you, and I'm sorry for the abrupt end. Your existence would have brought more pain than joy for both of us. November 5th, 2016, I mourned the moment you vacated my body from the beating I took. I have to let go; this pain is tearing me up. I made many errors that contributed to your existence and end. I forgive myself.

~ Journey Through Madness

@spacesnail91

#Loss #pregnancyloss #miscarriage #miscarriagesurvivor #traumasurvivor #cptsd #ptsd #abusesurvivor #writetoheal #writer #healingjourney #lettinggo #amturewriter #strongwomen #mentalhealth

[bejessup-blog]

My early pregnancy loss.

This was supposed to be the first ever photo of our baby. Instead, it’s a blank screen. We should have been 8 weeks pregnant this week, and soon announcing that our bundle of joy was on its way. Instead, those announcement photos mark a time of pure joy now overshadowed by deep sadness. June 7th was supposed to be one of the happiest days of our lives. Instead, it’s a day that will come and go without a baby in our arms.

Miscarriage is something that isn’t talked about enough, but I’m going to. I’m a sharer. I like talking to people and sharing stories and feeling a closeness to others. It’s lonely enough to feel your baby vacate your body without enduring it in silence and secrecy, clouded in stigma and feelings of inadequacy. To not have many people to talk to because you hadn’t announced it to the world yet, despite wanting to shout it from the rooftops every waking second. We did tell people, though. And in these first few days after the loss, at times it has felt like too many people. Too many people to have to share our heartbreak with. But today, it feels like not enough people knew about our greatest joy to date.

I was exactly 7 weeks. 7 weeks is a long time to dream. To tell loved ones and to catch their precious reactions on video, reactions I’ll cherish forever and ever. To plan how we were going to announce it to the world. To window shop online. To check week by week what fruit size the baby was. To imagine the rest of their life. I woke up on my 25th birthday and could sense the baby’s presence, while knowing he or she wouldn’t show up in the way of a second line for a couple more days. It was the greatest birthday gift imaginable, only to be taken away a month later.

We had been trying for seven months and during that seven months our love for our unmade baby had already grown. When we saw the faintest of faint second lines our hearts burst with seven months worth of love, and only amplified as we watched the lines get darker and darker, and then finally getting the digital read out: “Pregnant.” I’m so grateful for that test; that word can never be taken away from us now. Despite only knowing for four weeks, it felt like a lifetime of love and dreams and hopes and excitement had built up and found its home in our hearts. I enjoyed every second of feeling like I had been hit by a train, because I knew that monster headaches and extreme fatigue were physical proof of our growing baby. Those wonderful headaches have now been replaced by cramps and backaches, as if the emotional torment isn’t a sufficient reminder.

Our baby was only the size of a poppy seed the week we got all those second lines, and had graduated all the way to the size of a raspberry in its short life. I know, scientifically speaking, that the baby likely did not make it due to chromosomal abnormalities incompatible with life. As someone who earned a degree in science, that comforts me. It’s nature doing what nature does. Our sweet baby, however loved and celebrated, would not have been healthy. Part of me wanted to keep all the baby apps I had to check in and see how big he or she would be if they had made it, but I just can’t. I painstakingly signed out of all the baby apps I had, feeling like I was abandoning my baby on a doorstep. Like it would continue to grow in some lonely place without me watching it and cheering it on. Nevertheless, I deleted the apps, unsubscribed from the emails, finished the second month in my pregnancy journal, put the few baby things we had purchased and been gifted away, sorted photos and pregnancy tests into bags, wrote a letter to the baby, and put everything away in a box. It was heartbreaking, but therapeutic and necessary.

This isn’t meant to be a pity party. We just want everyone to know, we were going to have a baby. We were deliriously excited. And now we are devastated. We just want this baby to be known and celebrated and remembered. We want everyone to know the joy we felt over this new life. I’ve been working on this post since Thursday, when we confirmed the miscarriage. I’ve been trying to perfect it ever since because I knew immediately that I had to share our baby with the world, that this sweet gift wasn’t something I could hide away. These are some really difficult emotions to process, but I’m so incredibly grateful for my husband and our families and close friends. We’re getting through it together. We’ve been going on lots of walks and lying around and just talking through our endless thoughts. Milestones like the baby’s due date and the upcoming holidays when we would have been announcing our growing bundle of joy are going to be hard, but each day’s burden is somehow becoming more manageable to carry.

Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers as we heal and chase our rainbow baby. We are so very sad, but also so very hopeful for what’s ahead. We firmly believe that the best is yet to come.

“The Lord is close to those who are brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed.” Psalm 34:18 NLT

[charlilouise-blog]

So I started my blog page after the death of my grandmother as a form of therapy really as found talking about my experiences was therapeutic. I keep it mainly private from my friends and family and just speak to the insta world. Well my honesty continues as we face the heartbreaking reality of losing our precious baby to be at 11 weeks. We are taking each day as it comes, trying to understand what has happened. I don’t know if we ever will. But I hope we go onto to have a beautiful rainbow baby soon. For now though I will always love and remember my precious angel baby. #miscarriage #heartbroken #angelbaby #lifestyleblogger #blogging #blogger #blog #angel #earlypregnancyloss #1in4 #breakthesilence #miscarriageawareness

[narceezah]

The emptiness that follows after miscarriage, the hollowness. It is our second miscarriage, 5 months apart. Last one, I fell into a dark hole of blame. This time I was still excited about the pregnancy but tried to keep it cool. Wishing this little bean would stick this time around but being labeled high risk pregnancy just stressed me out. To the point any little cramp or weird sensation worried me. Spotting came around, my heart dropped and brought me back to the first time. We never had the chance to see the little bean or hear the heartbeat. A week away from my next appointment, gone. Everything happened so fast, all we can do is wait for our rainbow baby. Whenever we finally get blessed. Why is it so hard, when you want it so bad. I know I’m not alone and many women suffer from miscarriages. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Now to distract myself and keep hoping one day it will finally happen. 👼🏻✨🌈 ☾ ☾ ☾ #miscarriagesupport #miscarriage #miscarriageawareness #angelbaby #earlypregnancyloss #hollow #pinkelephantssupport #miscarriagematters #1in4 #griefsupport #chemicalpregnancy https://www.instagram.com/p/BoTQZNjlteC/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=foiqk6af153m

[courtneyblanche]

I’m saying goodbye tonight to my little baby. I could not be more thankful than I am to have an amazing fiancé who is doing everything he can to help me through this process. This is something I could not survive emotionally or mentally without him.

I will never forget you my little angel. Say hi to your big brother or sister up there and watch over me and daddy together. I love you with all my heart 👼🏼👼🏼.

[borntooearlyborntoosmall]

Before I had a miscarriage I didn't really know what an impact it would have on someone's life. Being a paramedic, we often get called to woman experiencing a miscarriage and the first thing you notice is the fear in her eyes and pain on her face. But you don't exactly know how she feels. I think we all know what it feels like to have a loved one die but this is different. There is no physical human being that we, as the outsider can see. We can't associate any feelings with this unborn infant because to us it is invisible. Of course we feel sad for those women but what do you say? There is nothing you can say to take her pain, pain that we don't understand, away from her. Even in stillbirth we can understand the pain a little bit more than a miscarriage. With stillbirth, there is a physical baby there, for the world to see. I think seeing a perfect baby, born sleeping forever creeps into the depths of our hearts and would make the toughest person break down. The baby is there, there is proof of its existence, there is a funeral to attend and a grave site to visit. Somebody died, a baby died. But with miscarriage, nobody physically died. Not for anyone else to see. There was no "somebody". In most cases there is no physical evidence that there was a baby at all. So when a woman experiences a miscarriage, it is all silent and secret, just like the miracle that was meant to be growing inside of her. When I had my miscarriage I was six weeks pregnant. We had been trying for six months and over that six months the love for my unmade baby was already starting to grow. When I saw those two little pink lines my heart exploded with six months worth of love. Despite us knowing for only two weeks, it felt like a lifetime of love and hope and excitement had built up and was nestled in my heart. When I had my miscarriage I was only six weeks. We had not even had an ultrasound performed. We never even got to see our baby's heart beating. At six weeks, the embryo is the size of a pea. It looks like a tadpole with a big head. It's ugly and alien. But its tiny heart starts beating. What a miracle. But to an expectant mother, that little alien is a baby. A baby. A chubby cheeked, fat fisted, dribbling baby, a child, a daughter or a son. At six weeks, a miscarriage is described as an "early pregnancy loss". A lot of doctors dismiss it and speak harshly about bleeding and D&Cs and when you can try again. There is no recognition for your hopes and dreams which now lay, crushed on the bottom of that hospital floor. I was devastated. My precious baby. My child had died. Gone. Forever. And there was nothing I could do but watch as my baby was literally ripped from inside me in a painful and bloody way. There was nothing anyone could do. No baby, not anymore. When I started to share my grief and the devastating news with the few family and friends I had told about the pregnancy, the responses were mixed. Some said "how sad, how awful. I am so sorry" and that was nice. And some said "at least you knew you could get pregnant" or "it was for the best, obviously something was wrong, and the baby would probably have had down syndrome" or "it wasn't as if you lost an actual baby". That hurt the most. No, I didn't physically lose a fully formed baby. But in my heart and mind my embryo was a baby. It was a person, a somebody to me. Even if it wasn't a somebody to others. As the weeks went by I found that I craved recognition for my baby. While others guard the loss in the depths of their souls, I wanted to tell the world that "I had a baby, and it died". A dear friend of mine only a month before my miscarriage had a still born baby. I was devastated for her. Her baby was incredibly beautiful and it was an incredibly unfair, unjust, unexplainable loss for her and her husband. I began to feel so ashamed at myself for feeling so sad for my loss when hers was so much greater. My baby most likely never had a beating heart while hers beat for nine months. How dare I be so selfish at being sad for me, when she lost an actual baby. Suddenly I found myself feeling what others had felt for me. That it wasn't like I had actually lost a baby. All I lost was a little pea. My sweet little pea. But I can't shake the devastation for how I still feel about losing my baby. For having an "early pregnancy loss". I joined a still birth and neonatal death Facebook support group SANDS. This group also supports woman who have experienced a miscarriage. But those woman were much further along in their pregnancies than I was. Again, I felt the crushing weight of guilt and shame for being a phony. For pretending to be a mother who lost an angel. For what was my loss next to the losses of these women? I was torn between grieving the loss of my child and feeling ashamed at pretending I lost a child when I didn't, not really. Doctors, friends, strangers, they had dismissed my loss. It was just an "early pregnancy loss". But out of everyone in the world, it was the women who I believed to have lost so much more were the ones who comforted me. They were the ones who recognized my little pea as a baby. They understood the grief and loss I felt. It was my dear friend who reassured me, told me that I wasn't a phony, wasn't pretending to have lost something more valuable than it actually was. That even though I had an "early pregnancy loss" I still lost a baby. That hers was just a bigger baby. And it was a baby. I need to realize that I lost my child. I lost my son or my daughter. My child died. It doesn't matter how far along the pregnancy was. It doesn't matter if you, as an outsider don't understand or think that it isn't the same as if somebody actually died. My baby was a somebody to me, my baby was a somebody to my husband. When I would have been twelve weeks I announced my pregnancy. I wanted my baby to be recognized. I wanted to feel like my baby had existed. It was like the more people knew about my baby, the more my baby's existence and meaning couldn't be taken away from me. So if somebody you know has gone through or is going through an early pregnancy loss, a miscarriage, a regretted abortion or a stillbirth, please acknowledge their baby's existence. It isn't about what you think. It isn't about how you think. It's about recognizing that a mother and father have lost their child, no matter how far along the pregnancy was. Say "I'm sorry you lost your baby", and that is all that is needed. Allow time for the parents to grieve, for as long as they need. It is not about how long you think they should grieve for. Don't try and explain it, or try to make them see the silver lining. Just be there for them. And every now and then ask how they are going and really listen if they choose to actually tell you. Because their baby was a somebody to them. I was six weeks pregnant when my baby died. I was six weeks when I had an early pregnancy loss, but it is more than that. I was six weeks when I became a mother to an angel. My Angel. And nobody can take that away from me.

[theworldaccordingtolittleoldme]

A woman's shame of losing a baby

Why is there a feeling of shame surrounding miscarriage?

Why do I suddenly feel embarrassed when I tell people about what happened to me a few months ago. 

Is it because of the way people look at you like you're made of glass?

Or is it some deep rooted feeling like you did something wrong?

People tell you how upsetting it is when you lose a child, but they never explain how hard it is to talk to others about it.

You never really know how many people you know have gone through it, until you have as well.

Why is there this need to tell no one? For women to keep it all to themselves?

They say the best way to get through it is to talk to your partner about what you have both gone through, but what if you didn’t have a partner who shared the experience with you? 

The stigma around pregnancy loss needs to end. Women need to be able to discuss these things with others. Celebrities who come out and tell the world about their experiences should be praised for talking about the taboo subject and showing they don't have the perfect lives where nothing ever goes wrong.

Seeing the photos on google of Chrissy Tiegan going through the gut-retching feeling to see her, a super model falling apart made my feeling feel normal. I could justify the way i felt. It helped me realise I wasn't alone.  Celebrities like Beyonce and Michelle Obama are all breaking the invisible line and speaking out about their pasts with loss. I hope this will start empowering us normal women to do the same, to not feel shame at the thought of what is normally a completely uncontrollable and random act of the body. 

I want to go back to being my normal self, to not have people checking on me, coddling me and treating me like I am made of glass, like if they say something wrong I may fall apart at any time. I think the only way I can make myself feel like that is to get over the overwhelming shame and stigma that goes along with this subject. When I was told I had lost my baby, the nurses offered me leaflets to support groups and the like. That was the last thing I wanted at the time. The idea of sitting in a room with a group of women talking about my feelings made me want to be sick, but now I realise that is exactly what is needed. A space where women can share these experiences with people, without judgement and without the SHAME.

[panickedmilagro]

Today was hell. I finally passed sweet Sarah Coraline. It was the absolute scariest and one of the most painful things I've ever done. Spent 6 hours in the ER for pain and I was bleeding to heavy. I'm okay now though. She made her exit quick. I'm no longer having contractions and the bleeding is slowed a lot. No one warned me it would be so physically painful. The cramps I got were identical to early and mid labor. Well at least now she has a birthday. Born sleeping, 6.15.14

[courtneyblanche]

Raspberry

When I was 21, I accidentally got pregnant. This accident is what shaped the rest of my life to come. When I saw the second line quickly appear on that little piece of plastic…Panic. Excitement. Confusion. I repeated “HOLY F*** HOLY F***” all the way to the bedroom where my boyfriend was. He thought I was joking and then said “But this line isn’t as dark as this one”. I had never been so shaky in all my life. I became a mom in that moment. For the next couple months, we planned our future and bought a few little things for our baby. Every week I would write on the whiteboard “Baby Roth is the size of a -”. It wasn’t until I went into the doctor for a pap when everything started to go wrong. “Can I hear the heart beat today?” The doctor rolled the Doppler around my 11 week belly. No heartbeat. He said I probably just wasn’t as far along as I thought. But I knew. He sent me for blood work to “reassure me”. A couple days later I was at work when “Doctors” showed up on the caller ID. Panic. They told me I had to come in for an emergency appointment and got me in that day. The doctor told us my HCG levels dropped from 77000 to 6000 and that there wasn’t much going on in there. I was then sent for an emergency ultrasound but we had to wait until the next morning. My boyfriend told me not to worry yet and to stay positive. But I could not stay positive because I knew. The next morning I filled my bladder, I went in for my appointment where I was told that my boyfriend could not come inside. Nobody told me why and the ultrasound tech was anything but sensitive to my situation. I desperately asked if there was anything in there and she would respond, “I’m not the doctor”. After the ultrasound I was sent back to my doctors office where my doctor confirmed a missed miscarriage.

The hard part. The thing about miscarriages are, It’s not just the mother who suffers, and it’s not just the mother and father who suffer. That baby was someone’s niece or nephew. Someone’s godchild. Someone’s grandchild. Someone’s great, and great great grandchild. Someone’s cousin. That baby was my entire family’s something. Having to tell my family our dreams have been broken is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I watched my moms heart break all over the floor. I listened to the crack in my mother in laws voice over the phone, and then lose her breath as she cried. I had to learn Chase’s great grandmother cried when she heard the news. I had to lay there as Chase laid on my belly and feel his tears roll down my sides. Then I had to suffer my own battle. Every moment that I was awake I cried myself to sleep. I had never felt heart break so intense. I hadn’t suffered a loss before. My first loss was my own baby at 8 weeks. He or she was the size of a raspberry. Raspberry is the name of my first baby.

I wondered why this happened to me. How could this have happened to me. What did I do wrong? I felt like this was my fault. I beat myself up over it. I felt guilty and I felt lost. Some days I felt numb and some days I didn’t even want to live. I had never been so happy as I was when I was pregnant. I felt important and like my life had a purpose. During those days after my miscarriage I believed I killed my baby. “It was all those hot baths I took” “I didn’t drink enough water” “I exercised too hard” “I didn’t eat the right food”. But none of this was true. It took me a long time to accept that. This is chapter 1 of my journey.