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One Miscarriage, One Man, One Woman

Personal Story of Miscarriage


Updated January 26, 2014

Men and women grieve differently when it comes to a miscarriage.

Men and women grieve differently when it comes to a miscarriage.

This is the story of a miscarriage. The miscarriage portion was written as the events actually occurred. My husband and I wrote separately about our feelings a few weeks later.

Dedicated to Miriam Sabra

Once again we have lost another pregnancy. We found out that we were pregnant 3 days after our anniversary. It was a great feeling! Considering that our last pregnancy was an ectopic we had to go to the High Risk OB quickly.

I started spotting a few days later and tried to ignore it. I went to the Emergency Room on Friday. They said that my hCGs were rising a bit slowly, but we had a great ultrasound and to not worry about it. I had an inkling that something wasn't right, but I tried to tell myself that I knew too much about pregnancy and was being a hypochondriac. Then I would tell myself that I am the one who always tells everyone to listen to the mother, that she knows more than they do. Well, I was right, I did know.

My regular appointment the following Monday said the same thing. They even pointed out that the gestational sac would be expected to be irregular for someone who had been bleeding for 10 days. It was perfect. We even saw movement of the fetal pole.

Kevin had been out of town finishing his doctoral dissertation. He got home Saturday night and we spent a quiet evening inside. The next morning he got up to go teach religious school while I stayed home with the children.

While I was cooking lunch for the family I had a strange feeling and ran to the bathroom. It was like all hell broke loose. I sat down and blood clots that were huge and hard started coming out, about 30 seconds later Kevin came in the door. I started crying, after trying to tell him that everything was okay. It had to be okay, I kept promising him a baby. We decided to call the doctor who said to go back to the Emergency Room.

We got there and my bleeding was listed as heavy, and my blood pressure was about 82/37. Considering I was still anemic from my liver rupturing, we went for the D & C.

I actually felt better when I woke up. Kevin took me home and we began our recovery in earnest.

Today, a few weeks later, I am still okay, and dealing. I am weepy and angry, and poor Kevin never knows which. He is sad, too, in a different way and for a different reason. We have managed to learn to grieve differently and yet together. It's really good to have him with me.

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