Loss #1 of 3

I sit here and think to myself, where do I begin? Do I start off with my first loss- the blighted ovum, the second loss- the ectopic, or my most recent loss- miscarriage? Each one so different, yet the end result was the same: trauma, tears, lost hope, grief, no take home ultrasound picture and of course, no baby.

I guess I’ll start with the first loss- the “blighted ovum”.

Being the pessimistic person that I am, I checked the miscarriage odds calculator daily. Each day brought a better chance that I wouldn’t miscarry. I had the pregnancy symptoms- the nausea, the heightened sense of smell, the insomnia, ethat were all suppose to reassure me that this was going to work out. I downloaded an app and marveled daily at my baby’s development, my husband talked to my belly and I began ordering clothes- we were going to match for Halloween! and he or she was going to be my little santa! It was so perfect- even my sister was pregnant and I was just two weeks shy of her. I even bought an Easter basket with a big golden egg- I was going to announce my pregnancy on Easter. It was all perfect and I had it all planned out. Oh how naive I was looking back on it now.

At 7 weeks, 5 days, just before going into the ultrasound room, I told my husband this was going to be the happiest day of our lives. But minutes later, my life came shattering down. The technician nonchalantly said “I can’t find the baby” and I could feel the panic and horror take over me as I recalled seeing a post in the pregnancy forum of this happening to someone else. After the technician left me to get dressed, I cried hysterically for a few minutes and was left to sit in the waiting room with pregnant women. I sobbed in the car ride home. Fast forward a week later, I had to get another ultrasound to confirm what I already knew- no baby, it was a blighted ovum. I ended up getting a MVA as I never once bled on my own. I had been tricked by my own body.

The weeks that followed were hard. I was haunted by my loss and hurt when I had some friends simply respond that miscarriages are common or “at least…”. It felt like my loss was just another statistic, a commonality with no story, hurt and failed hope behind it. Subsequent ultrasound pictures that popped up on my newsfeed were reminders of what I didn’t have and a pregnancy announcements caught me off guard and embarrassingly left me crying on the plane.