My miscarriage story (and what I wish I’d known)

Why I wanted to share this

I wanted to share my miscarriage story for a few reasons.

First, miscarriage can feel incredibly lonely when you’re in it. Even though it’s common, it somehow still feels isolating, and hearing stories that sound even a little like yours can help you feel less alone.

Second, there are so many things I wish I had known before I went through it. This is almost advice I’m giving my past self.

And third, honestly, it’s been cathartic to sit down and tell the full story.

So here it is.

My first pregnancy experience

I had my first baby in 2022. Ironically, that pregnancy started out rocky. I had spotting throughout the first trimester, and around six weeks it got heavier, with small clots and some cramping. I was convinced I was miscarrying and went to the ER. But they found a tiny heartbeat, just this little blueberry of a baby, and the rest of the pregnancy ended up being smooth and uncomplicated.

Trying again felt different

Fast forward about a year and a half later, and we decided to try for another baby. The first time around, getting pregnant took about seven months of very intentional trying. Ovulation strips, tracking everything, holding my breath every month only to be disappointed when my period came. It was stressful. So I fully expected the second time to feel the same. If anything, I expected it to take longer. I was 34 now.

But it didn’t.

I got my IUD out, had one period, and the very next month, I got pregnant. I remember thinking, oh, this is what people mean when they say they “just got pregnant.” It felt easy. I didn’t put as much pressure on myself, and it happened quickly.

Finding care during a big transition

At the same time, we were in the middle of a big move from California to Florida. I needed a new provider and ended up going with a midwife group in Tampa that a friend recommended. I trusted her, so I went with it, even though I was a little caught off guard to learn they didn’t do ultrasounds in-office. You had to go to a separate imaging clinic, and they would review the results later. Looking back, I wouldn’t choose that setup again. At the time, though, I was already about eight weeks along and just kept moving forward.

The ultrasound appointment

I went in for my first ultrasound at ten weeks. And if I’m being honest, I already had a bad feeling. With both pregnancies, the first symptom I get is a tingly feeling in my breasts. I had that. But after that, nothing. No nausea, no food aversions, no weight gain. I just didn’t feel pregnant.

My husband came with me to the ultrasound appointment, which I’m so grateful for. The tech was very young, and from the start, something felt off. She started with an abdominal ultrasound, and I told her I thought at this stage it was usually transvaginal. She insisted it wasn’t. I deferred to her.

On the screen, I could see the gestational sac and the yolk sac, but no baby. My stomach sank.

She kept saying I was probably just earlier than I thought. I told her I knew exactly how far along I was. My cycle is regular. I track ovulation. I took a pregnancy test the day I missed my period. I knew I was ten weeks.

She kept brushing it off.

Eventually, she looked at the referral and realized it was supposed to be transvaginal after all. We did that next. Same result. No embryo.

At that point, she softened and apologized, but the damage was done. I was trying to process that I was losing the pregnancy while also being dismissed in the process. It was just a really hard way to find out.

A note on healthcare and compassion

Most healthcare professionals I’ve encountered have been wonderful, compassionate people. But it only takes one bad experience to really stick with you. I understand how desensitizing this work must be. Still, for the providers who manage to hold onto their humanity, thank you. You matter more than you know.

Deciding what came next

Afterward, the midwives walked me through my options: let it pass naturally, take medication to start the miscarriage, or have a D&C surgery. They wanted to wait a week and confirm with bloodwork that the pregnancy wasn’t viable, just to be absolutely sure.

That week was strange. Walking around knowing there had been life inside me, and now there wasn’t.

Because everything appeared to have stopped developing around six or seven weeks, they recommended letting it pass naturally. They explained it would likely be like a very heavy period. Painful cramping, but manageable.

So I agreed.

When things escalated

One evening around 8 p.m., I finally started bleeding. I felt mentally prepared. I had pads ready. But it escalated quickly. The bleeding became heavier, with large clots, more than a pad could handle. Strangely, I didn’t have intense cramping. My husband ran out to get postpartum diapers, and even those were filling up within an hour. Looking back, this should have been my cue to head to the ER.

Around midnight, I put on a new diaper and tried to sleep. A couple of hours later, I got up to use the restroom. When I tried to stand from the toilet, I passed out. My memory is hazy, but my husband told me he heard faint groaning and found me on the bathroom floor, white and barely conscious. He called 911.

Paramedics gave me an IV as I lay semi-conscious on the bathroom floor, then loaded me into the ambulance. At the hospital, they ran my vitals and I learned my hemoglobin was extremely low. I had lost a significant amount of blood. If the bleeding didn’t slow soon, I would need a transfusion. The bleeding eventually slowed, but the doctor recommended a D&C because there was still tissue remaining, and I was already admitted.

I had the procedure at 9 a.m. and went home midday.

What I wish I had known

Everyone’s miscarriage experience is different. But for me, from how I found out to how physically intense it became, it was nothing like I expected. Looking back, I would have chosen the D&C right away. If I ever go through this again, that’s the route I would take.

What stayed with me afterward

In the months afterward, I was surprised by what hurt the most. It wasn’t seeing pregnant women. It was seeing siblings close in age. I had already pictured that two-year age gap for my son, and I mourned that version of our family.

I also felt deeply fortunate in some ways. I had a healthy child. I knew many women don’t even get that. In a worst-case scenario, I still had my son.

Four months later, I got pregnant again. Again, deeply fortunate.

If you’re reading this and hurting

Miscarriage is common, but it’s also deeply personal. Everyone processes it differently. If you’re in the middle of this or carrying it quietly, I just want you to know you’re not alone. I’m holding space for you, and I hope that someday, when you’re ready, you get your rainbow baby and things unfold the way they’re meant to.