[ I like going by the rule of not announcing a pregnancy until into the 13th week, because not all pregnancies are permanent in the first trimester, and it’s easier and less heartbreaking to deal with a loss in private instead of having to let 100+ people know while something so tragic is happening. But I also believe that every stage of life is important and beautiful and in need of recognition. Therefore, I share my story and the story of my lost child. ]
And so it goes, I was pregnant and miscarried two times in seven months.
My first miscarriage was the product of a failed pregnancy, otherwise knows as a blighted ovum. I was “pregnant” with every symptom for 12 weeks before my body noticed I wasn’t actually growing a baby and miscarried. Recovery took about 6 weeks.
Three months later I conceived! I got a positive pregnancy test very early on and my belly started to feel full, neither of which was the case during my last pregnancy. I was very excited and hopeful, but the scare of another miscarriage was still a concern. I was only a little bit nauseous but had a lot of food aversions and I was very emotional all.the.time. I was also plagued with fatigue and constantly had to pee! But I was also like that with my blighted ovum. So who knows? I was 7 weeks pregnant when I noticed some of my symptoms go away and then I had two days of horrible nausea, cramps, backache, and heartburn. A few days passed in which I felt fine, then I had an upset stomach again, and on one trip to the bathroom I saw some blood. It wasn’t bright red, so I thought it might just be some spotting caused by my upset stomach. But over the evening it got heavier and brighter and my heart sank. I was sure the same thing was happening again. A blighted ovum. So I just prepared myself for what I knew was coming and prayed that it would happen fast, instead of dragging on for a week like last time.
The next day contractions started. When they became fast and painful I went to the bathroom and drew a bath. Like last time, Caroline was on my heels and she wanted a bath too! But I was already in and she was out with a poopy diaper so I wasn’t too thrilled about that. But regardless, I wasn’t going to have her scream at me the whole time, so I stripped her down and wiped her butt the best I could and plopped her in the water with me. Then with the splashing and the toys and the poop and the blood, it was just way too gross. I got out, drained the water, and slowly filled the tub again for her while I sat on the toilet. The contractions weren’t as hard this time, probably because I knew what to expect. And the blood wasn’t as free flowing this time either. I felt the pressure on my bottom and knew that it would be over soon. I did not want it to come out in the toilet, but it did. I debated for a while if I was going to scoop it out or just flush it. But I knew I would regret flushing it, especially if it wasn’t a blighted ovum. I got up and cleaned myself off. I got Caroline out of the tub and dried her off. Then I sent her running naked around the house. Conveniently there was a plastic straw laying on the floor, so I used that to push the toilet paper out of the way and push the sac to the surface. I scooped it out and noticed that it was a lot bigger than it was last time and when I turned it around in my hand I saw the baby. Little black eyes, stubby little fingers and toes, still translucent. I was shocked and numb to see that there was actually a baby. I laid my baby in a pretty glass bowl. And went to snuggle my kids on the couch.
We wanted to name our baby, but a girls name didn’t seem fitting, neither did a boys name, and neither did a unisex name. So I figured we’d just name it after the Patron Saint of miscarriages. Adam suggested to name the baby after my Pappy, Raymond. And while searching for the Saint, I found that St. Raymond is the patron saint of pregnant women, childbirth, and children. And so “Ray”mond seemed to be the perfect, almost divine, name for our lost baby.
I wanted to heal from this as fast as I could (unlike last time, which was fall harvest, so I was apple picking and garlic planting just days after) so I didn’t do much other than sit around for 2 weeks. I had a lot of support and it was a very relaxing/healing time for me. I healed fast and started doing things to heal my uterus from both of these miscarriages. I did Maya abdominal massages, to make sure my uterus was in the correct position ( did you know that 90% of women have a displaced uterus?!) I also took some herbal bathes, did meditations, and ate more nourishing foods.
It’s been two months. We just buried Raymond and the products of my blighted ovum this past weekend under a newly planted tree (it was in the freezer) I said a prayer and told him that I would see him in heaven one day. It wasn’t very ceremonial or emotional but it was a relief to let him go. I’ll love him and think of him forever, but I cannot hold onto grief.