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Part 3: It came in waves.

Nichole Velez

My story of early pregnancy loss

Before you read on I want to let you know that my story of early pregnancy loss will go into detail about things that I experienced, felt and saw. This may not be comfortable for you. I don’t do this to be shocking, I am doing this because I don’t want to forget. Even though it was early, this pregnancy was real and this baby was wanted. I want all the other mothers who have experienced loss to know that no matter when you see that positive test, any and all of your feelings surrounding your pregnancy are valid. I want others to know what might happen and what your loved one might be going through. Of course every person’s experience is different, but because I serve the community that I do, I find that it is important to offer some perspective and by doing so my support.

Once we left the hospital my husband drove us to the grocery store. I was advised to use pads, not tampons or a menstrual cup because of the risk of infection. I hadn’t used a pad in I don’t know how long and I wasn’t exactly excited about it. I told him what to look for and he went inside to stock up. I waited in the car and called my mom.

She asked how I was and though I was sad and disappointed, I was also emotionally exhausted. I told her, I’m upset but I’ll be fine. I understand this happens sometimes. I’m really disappointed and sad, but I’ll be ok. And I really felt this. The logical side of my brain understood that this was a common occurrence and it’s not anyone’s fault, and your body knows when something is right or not. Even as I thought this, and as I said these things I felt…disconnected.

I also told her that I felt a little stupid that I shared this news with people when it was so early and that I had even gone so far as to reach out to a midwife. I really wondered if I had jinxed myself somehow. But I was so excited, I couldn’t -- No. I didn’t want to keep the news of my pregnancy to myself.

When we got home, Alex asked me how I was feeling. I told him the same thing I told my mom, but then all of a sudden the sadness came rushing back. I wasn’t ok, I was more than disappointed. I was devastated. How could this happen? Why was this happening? I didn’t understand. He hugged me and then just like they had come the tears just stopped.

It was like this most of the day, it came in waves. The logical side of my brain would take over and then the emotional side would just spill out. It was like my mind was trying to make sense and rationalize what was happening, but at the same time it was also trying to deal with the realization of what would never be.

There were moments when I would feel so ridiculous for crying and being upset because, in my own ignorant thoughts, I was barely even pregnant. I felt guilty for being sad and upset because people lose their babies when they are much farther along and their experiences are much more traumatic. Looking back on this now, I know this is not true. You are never barely pregnant. You either are or you aren’t.

Once that pregnancy test is positive, you are pregnant and regardless of your week of pregnancy, if you lose that, you have every right to grieve. It’s such a different kind of grief because you aren’t necessarily grieving past experiences, but you’re grieving your dream of being a mother, your future plans as a family, your dream of making your son a big brother, you are grieving your baby. It’s not just a late period or a bunch of cells. From the moment you see that positive test and its suddenly gone, you grieve your future. And that is devastating.

I only had a few hours to grieve on my own, because Diego came home from school. Though I didn’t want him to see me like this and I knew it would be difficult entertaining a 4 year old during such a hard time, I still wanted him close. I also wanted to explain what we were going through.

I couldn’t wait to share the news that he would be a big brother. This would have happened the following week. I know he would have been over the moon. I wanted to share what we almost had and what we lost. Though others may feel differently, for my family, I want to be open and honest with each other. I want to be able to talk about the hard things and to show my child what it looks like to lose something and how to cope and deal with that, and to also normalize something that isn’t often spoken about.

I did a little bit of research on how a parent talks about pregnancy loss with a child. I read articles about best ways to do this and researched if I even should, especially when they didn’t know. What I read validated my instincts. While everyone should do what’s best for their own family, children are very perceptive and they easily pick up and read the energy that surrounds them. It is recommended to talk about it in age appropriate terms.

So after we let Diego decompress a bit, his dad and I told him that we needed to talk with him. He asked if he was in trouble, but I assured him that he wasn’t.

Diego has had some experience with loss as we’ve lost his abuelito and one of our dogs this past year, so this was not an entirely new concept to him. Based on prior conversations surrounding loss I had some guidance on wording when it came to things to say or not say for someone his age, but it was still hard.

Do you remember what I told you about how babies live in their mama’s tummy until they get big and strong enough to live outside the belly?

Yes.

Well sometimes, especially when they are just starting to grow they don’t become strong enough to live outside the belly and they stop growing, and when that happens unfortunately they don’t make it and they die. It’s no ones fault, but it happens sometimes.

I had a really tiny baby in my belly, but this baby stopped growing and wasn’t strong enough to live outside my belly, and didn’t make it.

Diego started to cry and when I reached for him I remember that he pushed my hands away, a reaction that I read was normal. He got up to walk away and I asked if he wanted a hug and he immediately climbed on me and we all hugged each other.

I told him that I might be really sad for a little bit, and to not be scared, that I might cry and that it was ok and that it was ok for him to be sad too.

After a few moments, his tears stopped and I asked if he had any questions. He did, but he’s also 4 and his mind quickly jumps to random thoughts so his dad took over and I zoned out as he started comparing this to some kind of spider and their web. He was upset for maybe 30 seconds and then was fine. This is also normal, but I knew that it might take him a little longer to process this kind of news.

For most of that day I experienced lots of cramping and what seemed like lots of blood loss, much more than what a normal period would be, but thankfully nothing alarming. Because I was wearing a pad, I could feel my pregnancy leaving my body, which was just terrible. Everyone’s experience is different and I think I was fortunate that the physical discomfort and pain wasn’t as bad as some stories I have read. But the emotional toll it can take was really rough.

Each time I went to the restroom to clean myself up I would look at the tissue, trying to mentally compare it all to the size of a sesame seed. That’s the size my baby was supposed to be. And everytime, I wondered whether or not I was wiping my baby away, because that is what I felt like in that moment and that thought gutted me.

I told Alex this and he just held me. He said I wasn’t doing that, but I felt guilt and shame, because I was, but also there was no other option. Reflecting on this now, weeks later, I know I wasn’t doing that. I most likely lost the tissue that was the baby even before I went to the hospital and though my feelings at the time were valid, it is misplaced shame. Finding some self compassion and forgiveness for that feeling was important, but it’s also a feeling I won’t soon forget.

By the end of that day my sadness turned to anger. It was a quiet anger that I didn’t want to show anyone, especially when they didn’t deserve it. I told my husband that I couldn’t mother anymore that day, though I still wanted Diego close by. I told him that I was angry, but not at him and not at Diego, I was angry that this was happening and that I needed to be alone. I spent the rest of the evening in my room by myself, but still felt comfort of hearing my husband and my son in the next room.

I walked out to go get some water and found them both asleep on the couch. I normally would wake them up and make them go to bed, but I couldn’t. I wanted to be alone in my room, so I stayed there for a while. I remember watching Friends, trying to mask the sadness and anger with laughter. I didn’t laugh, but I also didn’t think about what was happening either.

Finally my son woke up, came into my room and laid down. He felt a little feverish, which distracted me from my feelings. I focused on being his mother for a bit and didn’t think about what we had just lost and he fell asleep again.

I had made the decision to still work the next day, so I decided I needed to get ready for bed too. I took my third shower of the day and cried. I cried so much head hurt. I finally got out, got dressed and made it to my bed. I could still feel my body cramping and pushing the rest of the pregnancy out, but I was able to fall asleep as I held Diego close to me.


Read Part 4 HERE.

Part 2 HERE.

If you are or have experienced pregnancy loss, you are not alone. Speak with your healthcare provider for additional help and support, and if you are in need of resources here are some you might find helpful: