pregnancy after miscarriage.

On a Monday afternoon in October 2023, I was at work. I had just taken my very first pre-natal phone call from a nurse to set up my very first ultrasound in a few weeks. My husband and I had been loosely trying to get pregnant for about a year at that point and I had been starting to get stressed. As someone who is very regular in my cycle, I knew the day I missed my period that I was pregnant. That was only about 2 weeks before this morning. I had been pretty tired, but otherwise hadn’t had any other symptoms. In fact, when I woke up that morning, I marveled at the fact that I felt completely normal. Was I going to be some lucky magical unicorn while pregnant?

Before I headed down to get lunch, I had to use the bathroom.

I had never seen so much blood in my life.

What followed was a blur. My mind and body went into a state of panic but I instantly knew. I knew. There was no doubt in my mind. I knew of one coworker (and friend) who had been open about her miscarriage before getting pregnant with her child. I grabbed her and tried to hold it together before asking her, “How much blood is too much blood when you’re pregnant?” Even though I knew the answer. And even though she knew the answer too, she told me to call my doctor on my way home.

So I did.

They had an appointment ready for me at 4:15pm. I called my best friend, completely hysterical and I somehow made it all the way home, where my husband was waiting for me.

You know what the worst part is about having a miscarriage at only ~7 weeks? Since an ultrasound wouldn’t have picked up a fetus at that point, the only way to measure if I was pregnant or not was to take a blood test. And then, you have to wait THREE WHOLE DAYS in order to see if your hormone levels dropped drastically. If they did, it meant you weren’t pregnant anymore.

So I sat at home. For three whole days. I told my manager that I was sick. I cancelled all my meetings but I needed to keep working because if I didn’t, this was all I was going to think about and I would spiral more than I already had. Even though I KNEW, I didn’t “KNOW” so I was too scared to take any pain killers while experiencing some of the absolute worst pain of my entire life.

Thursday finally came for me to take my second blood test to see what’s going on with my hormone levels. And I had to wait a few hours before I got the results. I must have refreshed my inbox a million times before finally getting the email that confirmed that I was no longer pregnant. In that moment, I thought “Okay. This is okay. I’m okay.” I was very wrong. But I tried to get myself to believe it anyway. My doctor called me as a courtesy. I told him that I had read that it could take up to six months for women to get pregnant after a miscarriage. He was gentle in explaining that physically, I could get pregnant right away… emotionally, he told me it would be best if I gave myself some time.

Badass Lauren was in control. She was blocking everything from Emotional Lauren. Badass Lauren laughed off his gentle words and told him that there was no need for Emotional Lauren to come out. She already had three days of control! That was about enough out of her. I’m fine.

I was not fine.

November came (and so did my period). Pregnancy posts felt like personal attacks to me, no matter how much I wanted to be happy for everyone else.

December came (and so did my period). Pregnancy posts felt a thousand times more personal because this was the time I should have been announcing my pregnancy. And those who were announcing were announcing MY due date.

January came (and so did my period – but it was 2 days early so I was thankful for that). I felt numb at this point. And confused. Why wasn’t I getting pregnant?

February came (and so did my period… 6 days late). I had a complete meltdown. Something inside of me completely broke and I knew I couldn’t handle this anymore. I sat on the floor and I said to myself, “I don’t care anymore. I can’t care anymore. I can’t do this anymore.” If I’m meant to get pregnant and have a child, then it’ll happen. Having a mini (or large) breakdown was absolutely not going to change anything. Stressing was just going to make it worse (story of my life).

So I stopped. I stopped being so stressed and tracking everything and testing and just centering my life around getting pregnant. Jacob and I planned potential trips for the year and I signed up for a monthly massage membership.

I was so incredibly nonchalant about getting pregnant that when I missed my period by 10 days in April, I didn’t even notice. I actually thought I was supposed to start my period a full week after I was actually supposed to start my period (I stopped opening my period tracking app altogether). When I tested and that 2nd line showed up immediately and incredibly dark, I felt months of panic and worry slip away only to show up time and time again.

I’ve been writing this since I found out I was pregnant back in April. When I post this, I’ll be in my 3rd trimester and only a few weeks away from my due date. I remember asking that same coworker and friend, “When you got pregnant the 2nd time… When did you stop worrying about a miscarriage?” Her response was, “Oh, never.”

I feel her kicking around all the time now and it’s wild! But sometimes, I think, “When was the last time I felt her kick?” which then makes me panic about the last time I felt her kick. Since I’m not a high risk pregnancy, I don’t actually have a lot of doctor’s appointments so there’s not a lot of reassurance that everything is actually totally chill. I just have to believe that everything is actually totally chill. Which is nerve wracking for a chronic stresser. Her wiggling goes on for what seems like forever and then stops for what seems like forever.

It’s funny because I don’t stress about birth. I don’t stress about life with a newborn. I don’t stress about when I’ll finally sleep a solid 6 hours without interruption. I don’t stress about putting on a diaper backwards. I don’t stress about our dog meeting her. I don’t stress about how to financially take care of her. I don’t stress about “how much screen time is too much screen time?”… The only thing I stress about is the potential of losing her before I even get to hold her.

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I want to end this post on a note of love and support. After being open about my miscarriage, I have learned about so many women I know personally who have also had a miscarriage. I don’t want it to be some secret we stuff into a closet or sweep under a rug. I want it to be something that we can talk about because it is something that happens all the time (unfortunately). So know that if you’re reading this and you’ve been through this experience (20 years ago or just yesterday), I am here for you ❤