My Missed Miscarriage
Choosing expectant management past 13 weeks
Before I dive into this fully I would like to say two things.
First, I firmly believe in protecting expectant mothers, new mothers, and those who are trying to become pregnant. When I was pregnant with my first, my husband told me the Ancient Greeks wouldn’t allow pregnant women to read, see, or experience ugliness. This story is beautiful, but it is also ugly. If I fell into any of those three buckets, I would personally choose not to read this. Continue with this in mind.
Second, I want to note the rarity in my miscarriage. Miscarriage happens to 1 in 4 women, but miscarriages past the 10 week mark are much less common.
At 9 weeks, we heard a heartbeat on an ultrasound. When my bloodwork came back my midwife called me to say it was “basically as perfect as it gets.” I had no cramping or bleeding. I had made it past the first trimester. Chromosomal testing came back negative.
Personally, I am okay without a reason for this happening. Maybe it was an act of god. Maybe nature is just a bitch. Either way, it's not for me to understand. It is simply an invitation to grow and deepen as one of my midwives wisely reminds me.
“Birth is ordinary” is a common mantra heard in the midwifery model of care. The same could be said about miscarriage (unfortunately). Despite the rarity in my miscarriage, losing a baby is more common than you would think. Most women who have a miscarriage go on to carry healthy pregnancies. I know some of these women. I am certain I will be one of these women.
Why I’m Sharing
At 13 weeks gestation, my second baby’s heart stopped beating. Losing Lux (her name) when we did seemed just as impossible as her conception (well before ovulation and while I was still breastfeeding). These two impossible events came together to create another—gratitude within the midst of loss.
Although I’ve written many versions of this same story, I’ve found it difficult to press ‘Publish.’ On one hand, this experience is deeply personal and not one I wish upon anyone. On the other, birth stories are meant to be shared. And it is a birth story (albeit not the one we hoped for).
I experienced what is called a missed miscarriage—when you discover your baby has passed before your body does.
When this occurs, you have three options: Misoprostol (the abortion pill), Dilation & Curettage (D&C), or expectant management (do nothing and wait).
My midwife walked me through the risks of each. Hemorrhage, cervical scarring, and infection. “So all the options suck?” I asked.
There is no right way to miscarry a child and all the options do suck. But for me, I had a gut feeling I not only wanted, but needed to wait for this baby. I carried Lux for nearly two months after we discovered she was gone. After my bleeding had stopped, an ultrasound showed I still retained most of my pregnancy. After seven weeks, I gave birth to Lux via D&C.
Medical guidance for women who’ve experienced a missed miscarriage past the 10 week mark is to receive a D&C due to the risks of hemorrhage. The truth is, there are risks to whichever path you choose. For me, the safest option was to follow my intuition.
Two weeks ago we buried Lux’s remains in a bougainvillea. It’s pink with double blooms and green yellow leaves. All of these qualities give it a bit of sparkle. It reminds me of her.
I speak confidently of who she is now, but during my first trimester I felt completely disconnected to the soul inhabiting my body. I credit my seven weeks of waiting to the connection I eventually developed with Lux.
During my time in limbo I read books, essays, and Reddit looking for women who had also chosen to wait, only to find the same thing over and over again. “Just get the D&C. Don’t bother with the abortion pill.” No mention of expectant management for women who lost pregnancies in their early second trimester.
The path I chose was uncommon and therefore relatively unknown. Those two factors did not mean it was unsafe. I had many wise women guiding me—midwives, herbalists, healers, and a friend who had made the same exact choice when she lost a baby. They all honored my intuition and helped me work through the emotional and physical toll that is miscarriage.
I had a lot of support as I walked this path, but not every woman is so lucky. I hope sharing my story can reach the mothers who need connection in a time of loss.
Numbness, Depression, Anger
When we arrived home from the ultrasound of our baby with no heartbeat, I felt numb.
I quickly tucked the printed images of the girl we lost too soon in my desk drawer. I couldn’t bear to look at them. At our nine week ultrasound, our baby looked like a tiny jumping bean. The images now showed a developed baby with legs, arms, and eye sockets. At 13 weeks along, the technician could identify I was having a girl.
My midwife sent me home with the plan to wait a few days and see if my body recognized the loss. I spent that time weaving in and out of depression. When I wasn’t sad, I was angry. Angry miscarriage happened to me. Angry women had to experience such a heavy emotional and physical loss all at once. Angry towards anyone who tried to comfort me with reasons.
Most of the anger, though, was directed at myself. I hated myself for feeling anything but joy for my unplanned pregnancy.
When I first found out I was pregnant, it was hard to feel anything other than stress. The business we had opened was off to a rocky start. We were missing projections and hemorrhaging money.
Having a baby was the last thing on our mind. So was taking care of myself. Now, I was kicking myself for thinking anything other growing a human was more important.
I should weaned Rex earlier, slept more, and stressed less.
I wanted to scream at anybody who told me not to blame myself. Who else is there to blame? Mothers protect their children. I didn’t. I couldn’t.
Moments of light came from the burden and blessing of having a toddler. I wanted to lay in bed all day with trash tv and an elite bowl of snacks. Instead, I got two hours to indulge myself during Rex’s daily nap. This was more than I’d rested my entire pregnancy and I slowly realized how depleted I’d been those past few months—running on a little more than hot steam and anxiety.
Just as soon as Rex’s little toddler eyes fluttered open he’d yell, “WALK!” This forced me to go outside and touch my feet to the earth. I let the grief pulse between my body and the soil I stood on. Finally, I rested.
Acceptance
My initial desire to do nothing (expectant management) was a decision made from the paralyzing nature of grief. But as the days and weeks passed, I realized I was drawn to expectant management because I wanted to find trust in my body again. I wanted to birth my baby at home just as I did Rex.
I called my former midwife, Janis, to communicate this and get a second opinion. She was everything I needed—comfort, validation, and safety. She encouraged me to follow my intuition and to spend time connecting with my baby.
As we talked, Janis told me she had just driven over the Florida state line after a multi day trip from New Jersey. We made plans to meet the following weekend. It felt as though I was sent a lifeline.
In the meantime, I spent time with my baby just as Janis told me to do. At night I filled my bathtub with epsom salt and lavender oil. As I dropped into the water, the sadness began to feel a bit lighter. I talked to my baby while drawing heart shapes on my belly with my index fingers. Slowly, I got to know Lux.
I grew so close to my baby, I descended into denial. It all happened so fast. Could they have gotten it all wrong?
I finally came clean to Isaiah. “I don’t know if I believe our baby is really gone”
“Me neither,” he states flatly.
It felt good to not be alone in my madness. We booked an ultrasound for the following week and then drove to meet Janis at a friend's house for the weekend.
When we arrived, Janis, Bethany (one of my best friends who also birthed with Janis), and I sat in the tent Bethany gave birth in just a few weeks prior. The space was filled with warm, soft, feminine energy.
I admitted my denial to the women. “Loss and grief are unbelievable. That’s why people have open caskets,” said Bethany. I felt validated and as though I was slowly drifting back to sanity.
Then, it was just Janis and I in the tent. Crystals were placed on my heart and in my hands. As she grounded and connected me to each of the cardinal winds, I felt a release I didn’t know I needed—a spiritual one.
The following week at our ultrasound, the tech took her finger to the screen and said, “this is where the heartbeat would be.” Soft tears rolled down our faces as we finally accepted the truth—she was gone.
Birth
After three weeks of waiting, I was ready to try a natural induction. With four midwives up and down the east coast advising me on the proper protocol, I felt safe and emotionally supported. I was told I could expect something between a heavy period and childbirth.
The treatment was similar to natural induction for a woman who was fourty-two weeks pregnant. Every fifteen minutes during a four hour period, I was instructed to have one of three homeopathic or herbal tinctures.
“It’s like a power hour,” I joked.
My mom referred to the protocol as “the potion.”
After four hours and only slight cramping, it was clear we weren’t getting anywhere. I tried again two days later. Still nothing.
Over the course of the next few weeks I attempted to induce my missed miscarriage with this potion and others with no success. There was something more to learn and grow from—I just didn’t know it yet.
It is during this time I was forced to confront conflict within my family. I couldn’t believe I had to deal with this in addition to the emotional and physical toll of losing a child. Why is this all happening at once? How much can a woman take?
As soon as the issue was resolved, I started bleeding.
I replaced my bath time ritual with an evening porch sit. With a smoking stick of Moxa either at my ankle points or hovered above my womb, I talked to Lux. After a while, I surprised myself by talking to God.
After two weeks, the bleeding stopped. We went to get yet another ultrasound to see how much of the pregnancy had passed. When the tech touched the stick to my belly, an image of my full baby and placenta flashed on the screen.
I knew my time to wait was coming to a close. Not only because my risk for infection was increasing, but because we were ready for the next chapter as a family. After speaking with my midwives and husband, we decided to give it one more week and not much longer.
I booked a D&C and hoped Lux would come on her own before the scheduled date. This process was arduous and again I found myself wondering how much more I could take.
Because I utilize the midwifery model of care, I am not an existing patient at an OBGYN. The offices I was referred told me they couldn’t treat women who were not already patients of the practice. Instead, they pointed me to the emergency room to get the procedure.
I wanted personalized care and an experienced physician. I wasn’t going to get that in an ER. It quickly became clear that my only other option was an abortion clinic.
The first one I went to was not the right fit. The security was so tight that Isaiah wasn’t able to come inside the building. There were no private recovery rooms and the doctor spent all of 2 minutes with me, of which he mostly used to complain about the FL abortion laws. I voted yes on 4, but I my intake appointment wasn’t the time or place to discuss politics.
For everything this clinic didn’t have, they had Wendy. She was my designated care advocate and listened to me sob on the phone after my appointment. Within five minutes of hanging up, I received a call from her colleague at another clinic. They could take me and it was a much better fit. They had private rooms, Isaiah could join me, and they would even allow us to arrange for cremation of the remains.
With the procedure scheduled, I finally put all my potions aside and waited. After a visit from Lux during my last acupuncture appointment, I truly felt at peace.
Lux didn’t come on her own and I had a D&C on December 17th. To be honest, I had a really hard time with the procedure.
I hate being out of control of my own body and do not respond well to anesthesia. The post op was more intense than I was prepared for. I carried a painful tightness in my pelvic floor for weeks following that I was not expecting. One week after the procedure, I passed too many clots and ended up in the ER. Then, almost miraculously, the bleeding stopped and never picked up again.
It was an unpleasant experience, but not one that I would change. I’m glad I waited as long as I did. I’m glad I got the D&C when I did.
Wintering in Florida
As I recovered, I read Wintering by Katherine May. In it, she explores the power of rest and retreat in times of hardship. I followed suit.
I spent my first winter in Florida making less plans, taking more naps with my son, and making our home feel like our sanctuary. I did things that I once said I didn’t have time for as a new business owner and mother of a 1.5 year old like learning how to make sourdough and exercising daily.
The near perfect weather here this time of year meant I spent the majority of my days outside in our backyard or at the playground. I used this time in fresh air to reflect on what I had learned through my missed miscarriage.
There are too many lessons to count, but two have changed how I live my life every day.
The first is finding faith. In the midst of this traumatic event, there were signs I was being watched over. Ever since having a child, it was hard (for me) to deny the existence of some sort of higher power. After experiencing loss, I felt called to explore faith in a very real way.
The second lesson is to focusing on my health and wellbeing. I often preach about mothering mothers, but had completely stopped taking care of myself as a toddler mom and new business owner.
The culmination of these lessons manifests in my new morning routine. I wake up before my family, but with the sun. I walk barefoot in my backyard with a large mason jar full of warm lemon water. Looking up to the sky, I declare what I’m grateful for and say prayers. So far, they’ve been answered.
At the beginning of the year Isaiah and I sat down for a family manifestation meeting. We chose three words to guide us—faith, joy, and strength.
These words are what got us through one of the darkest times as a family and now guide us in our day to day life. They are words that have taken our business from hemorrhaging money to setting a new personal record each month. We are lighter, more successful, and happier.
We have Lux to thank for these blessings. When I think of her now, it’s hard to even think of her as the baby I lost. Instead, she is our family’s guardian angel.
