The Sight of Blood

I'm not fainting; I'm terrified.

After my emergency room miscarriage in December I'd been anxious to get my body healthier and back on a normal schedule. I started making some big changes to my diet in late December as part of my “get healthier” goal. I don't do new year's resolutions because to me they've always seemed like well-intentioned empty promises. The irony that I made this big change in my life right before the new year is definitely not lost on me, but it was important enough that I dedicated myself to it.

I didn't know how long it would take for my cycle to return, and I decided I'd just be patient and not worry about it. I also decided not to worry about getting pregnant or preventing pregnancy. I wanted to focus on taking better care of myself so I could be a better wife, a better mom, a better me. I wanted to have more energy, to be physically strong and well, and to be happy. I also wanted to make sure that my body would be better prepared for carrying a baby to term when the time was right.

As time passed I realized it had been over a month since the miscarriage and I wondered when my body would resume it's regular cycle. I talked with a friend who'd had a miscarriage about month before my latest one, and we talked about cycles and feelings and everything that comes with the territory. It was really nice to have someone in a similar situation to talk with and share these things.

That very afternoon it came. There was blood, and I felt a sense of relief come over me. I wasn't pregnant, and I was fine with that. I was getting my period, which meant my body was getting back to normal, and hopefully a healthier normal. What I didn't expect was the feelings that would come over me the next day.

The bleeding started out dark brown, like old blood, and gradually became brighter and heavier. As time went on, over the period of a day, my anxiety levels gradually rose. I almost didn't notice it at first. A post I wrote about my miscarriage happened to publish on my blog that day and I read it and relived some of the memories and feelings from it. Every time I went to use the bathroom I had to face the blood, and I found myself absorbed in it. I was checking for clots, examining the color, the thickness, the texture (yes, I touched it), and the smell. You read that right, I smelled it. I wanted to be sure of what my body was doing.

I was exhausted and having cramps, which isn't typical for me during menstruation. The cramping hurt worse on one side than the other, and I found myself panicking. I even called my midwife to ask if the one-sided pain was normal. She told me not to worry, and to put on a heating pad and rest. That was exactly what I wanted to do, and I did.

In the back of my mind I couldn't get the thought out of my head that maybe I'd unintentionally become pregnant again and was having yet another miscarriage, or worse an ectopic pregnancy. While possible, this was unlikely. I kept telling myself that this was just my body getting back into a healthy rhythm and it was a good thing, but I couldn't quite make myself believe it.

I thought I'd been doing so well until that point. I'd coped with my loss primarily through writing and sharing my story, and I'd managed to pull myself out of a deep depression and started making positive changes in my life. I'd been feeling better until this slapped me in the face.

It made me realize how vulnerable we are as women, and even as human beings. We can't just go through something difficult and traumatic and expect to move on without any repercussions. Things impact us on an emotional level and they don't just go away. It reminds me of a book I read years ago called Feelings Buried Alive Never Die. It taught me that we have to face and deal with our feelings in order to properly process them and grow from them in positive ways. When we try to bury or hide our feelings they don't really go away. They can pop back up at any point and rear their ugly heads.

I don't think I was necessarily burying my feelings after my miscarriage, but I think that grieving happens in stages and waves. I think I was dealing with my loss as well as I could, and I've had to peel back the layers of emotions that are there. I'm pretty sure I'm not done grieving, but I think that's OK. I feel like this is part of my healing, as hard and debilitating as it can be at times, and that it's important to honor myself and my feelings and face them head on.

So this is me, right here and right now, facing them.

Post-Miscarriage Healing

My first miscarriage was nothing compared to the second one in terms of the physical toll on my body. I suspect the first one happened so early in the pregnancy that there wasn't much blood or tissue to expel. Indeed, the 5 week ultrasound had shown nothing, not even a sac, and I only bled moderately for a week. It was much like a period, and that was it. My cycle returned immediately and I conceived again right away. While the emotional impact was huge, the physical impact seemed minimal.


My second miscarriage happened later in the pregnancy and there was a lot of blood, clots, and tissue that I passed. I was amazed at the similarities between miscarriage and birth itself. Even the recovery period after miscarriage is very much like postpartum recovery, with continued bleeding for a few weeks and physical healing. 


I want to share some of the post-miscarriage healing aids I discovered. I found them to be helpful with both the emotional and physical aspects of recovery.

Homeopathy: After my day in the emergency room with my miscarriage I came home exhausted and coming down with a cold. I knew that the miscarriage put me at a risk of infection as well, so I took aconitum napellus to counteract that. I also took arnica for the bleeding. I took them in conjunction with using the essential oils.

Diet: For me personally this made a difference. My diet had included a lot of proteins and starches, and I decided to make a focused effort to eat as many fruits and vegetables as possible, focusing mostly on fruits and juices. I was skeptical when I started, but as I seriously followed this I noticed results immediately. I had more energy and I was happier in general. I handled stress a lot better. The timing of this coincided with a day of rest, and it was the perfect combination for me. I was more relaxed and energetic at the same time. I think it was a way for my body to cleanse after what I'd been through, and I decided to adopt this diet regularly in an effort to become healthier before trying to conceive again.

Rest: This is really important to do, as needed. I was exhausted for days after my miscarriage, and I found hot baths and naps to be really helpful. I couldn't lie around all day because I had a family to take care of, but I did what I could to get as much rest as possible.

I also had a headache for days after my miscarriage, and I've read that this is common. I relied on my old headache tricks of applying ice to my head and neck, taking molasses each day, and making sure I got enough rest.

Talking and writing: This was essential for me. I've learned that I process and heal much better if I can talk things through, repeatedly. For me this meant talking with several friends on the phone as well as writing and blogging about what happened, and chatting online when possible. It was important for me to go through the events and feelings of my miscarriage many times so I could make some sense of it and resolve my conflicting emotions. I also found the interactions in person and online to be uplifting, as I received much-needed support and love from others. The most reassuring thing anyone could say to me was that they understood how I felt.

Everyone grieves differently: This is really important to remember. I'm a talker, but some people handle things better by internalizing and not talking about it for a while. Grief is a very appropriate thing to feel after a loss such as miscarriage, and it's not to be trivialized. It's important to recognize the difficulty of the situation and allow the grieving person space to grieve in their own ways, but let them know you're there and you love them and support them. I found that my husband grieves very differently than I do, and I had to learn how to respect his methods while still nurturing my own.

The Roller Coaster: Support

This is the sixth post in a special bi-weekly series.  It's a sequel to The Longest Weekend of My Life series.  Please check back next Saturday for Part 7.

Part 6: Support

After my break down on Saturday I chatted online with a good friend of mine who is another pregnancy/birth blogger. I think she felt the despair in my words and tried to help me feel better. I knew I was in a dark place and I appreciated her support but felt bad for her having been put in that position. She told me she had to go, but what she did next was the best thing she could have done for me in that moment. She posted a question on her facebook fan page asking for experiences from women who have bled during pregnancy and gone on to have healthy viable pregnancies and babies. I think at least a dozen women responded, describing their personal experiences with bleeding during pregnancy. I had no idea it was so common, and that helped me realize that my despair was probably at least a little bit disproportionate to the situation.

I had decided to turn my personal writings of this experience into a blog series. I thought that by publishing one portion each Saturday it would allow my story to unfold slowly to my readers and give me time to figure things out and maybe somehow find a resolution to the whole thing. I felt strongly that I needed to not only keep writing, but to share it with everyone I could. I felt that this was part of the purpose of what I was going through. I knew it couldn't possibly be the whole purpose, but being able to find an impetus to move forward and try to help others by sharing my struggle gave me strength, resolve and greater peace.

That evening I made a difficult decision. I had a strong feeling I should share my entire thus-far unfinished story with my family and personal friends on facebook. Oddly, I still didn't feel comfortable making a simple phone call to family members or friends to let them know what I was going through. By breaking the news in this manner I felt safer opening myself up to the masses. I prayed, asking if this was really what I should do, and I felt it was. Even as I typed my personal status update I was nervous:

“Most people wait until the threat of miscarriage has passed, but I'm no good at keeping quiet. There's a chance I could lose this pregnancy, and I don't want to go through this any longer in silence.”

My heart fluttered and I had to step away from the computer without sending the message. I took a moment to collect myself and then I came back and pressed the send button. I then posted a comment on my status explaining the situation very briefly and letting everyone know that I'd been writing as a form of therapy and would post everything I'd written so far for my friends to read if they wanted to. Then I spent the next half hour or so transferring my writings from the word processor into notes on facebook.

I felt that having my friends and family read what I'd written would be easier than trying to explain the situation individually. I understood that some people might be off-put that I didn't approach them individually, but this was part of my coping and healing and it was how I needed to do it.

I talked with my husband that evening, partially to give him a warning that I had just announced to our little world about everything we were currently going through, and he understood. He reminded me that part of how I process and heal is by being able to talk openly about what I'm going through, and this meant having my entire support system available. I loved him even more for understanding that about me, even though it's not how he functions himself. I reflected on how we'd connected in deeper ways over the past week, and it had given me glimpses of how much we really get each other. A different facet of our love was emerging.

Part 1: Looking Up

Part 2: Seeing Red

Part 3: Malaise

Part 4: Possibilities

Part 5: Break Down

Part 6: Support

Part 7: Perspective

Part 8: Normal?

Part 9: Hindsight

Part 10: Shift

Part 11: Empty

The Roller Coaster: Break Down

This is the fifth post in a special bi-weekly series.  It's a sequel to The Longest Weekend of My Life series.  Please check back next Wednesday for Part 6.

Part 5: Break Down

I was still bleeding on Saturday, still less than a normal period. The cramping had stopped the night before, but I had gone to bed with a migraine and slept fitfully, and the migraine was there to greet me in the morning.  Not wanting to take medication for it, I focused on eating well and trying to nourish my body's needs in any way I could think to. Along with the migraine, I was grumpy. My kids were also in bad moods, and I struggled to keep my emotions in check as I fed everyone breakfast and dealt with trying to get them to do their chores.

I had to sit and quiet myself to help soothe the baby. As I rocked him I felt emotions rising within me. I realized it had been a full week since this whole ordeal had started with the pelvic pain and the trip to Instacare. I realized It had also been about that long since I had cried.

That's when the tears came.

Soft, yet painful, aching tears.

I started praying out loud in an effort to get all of my feelings out of my head and try to make sense of things.

I didn't know how to feel, how to be.

It had been such a strange combination of symptoms, and it felt like a physical and emotional roller coaster. First, the severe pelvic pain, without bleeding. The discovery of the pregnancy coupled with the warning that it might not be viable. The confusion and tears followed by peace. The yearning and searching for answers where there were none to be found. Calm acceptance of whatever would be. The pain had gone completely and I'd allowed myself to feel hopeful, even joyful and elated about the future. I had calculated the due date and dared to imagine our family with a new baby, only to start bleeding and have those hopes virtually ripped to shreds.

What was I feeling? There was anger, even rage, and I found myself unable to keep my emotions under control when faced with any kind of challenge. I threw an adult temper tantrum, throwing things and yelling at the top of my lungs at my children who were refusing to clean their room. Where did that come from? Did they deserve that? No. But I didn't care. Maybe it bought me some time. I wanted to crawl into some obscure hole and hide from my family and the rest of the world, so I couldn't be a danger to anyone but myself. I needed time and space to figure things out, but I didn't know I could possibly get enough, or how or if I ever would figure this out.

I got the baby down for a nap, and I closed myself in a dark room.

I cried. Hard, painful, sobbing tears that shook my body.

For several minutes as I cried, I couldn't speak. I just let the tears flow. When I could speak, I prayed out loud, this time more fervently, more passionately. I begged for comfort. I asked forgiveness for treating my children badly. I explained how I felt and how conflicted I'd been. I had to stop between phrases as more ugly tears would wrack my body. It felt good to let it out.

I realized while praying that I wouldn't know the answers or the end result. It wasn't for me to know whether the pregnancy would last or not. But I could ask for help, comfort, peace, sustaining. It was for me to decide how I would bear this burden and to do it with as much grace as I possibly could. I needed more faith, and I asked for support and help in moving forward the best I could. I asked that I would be able to take care of my family and myself, and as I prayed the tears softened and slowed. I ended my prayer feeling exhausted, but calm. The fear and the anger were gone.

I'm sure my children had heard my sobbing. They'd been in the room on the other side of the door, and as they heard my muffled cries and prayers they had decided to do what I'd asked them to do and work on their bedroom. They were excited to show me what they'd accomplished while I'd been feeling sorry for myself, and it was refreshing to see them cooperating with each other and eager to please. I thought maybe I should have an emotional breakdown more often...

The sadness lingered, and I occasionally found myself sitting at my desk with my head in my hands. My children each came to me at various times and placed their hand on my arm or shoulder, or gave me a hug. My little girl repeatedly walked over to me and tenderly brushed my arm. I knew they felt at least a little bit of what I felt, and they wanted me to feel better. Even though they didn't understand what I was going through, they understood that I needed their comfort. I was grateful for it.

Part 1: Looking Up

Part 2: Seeing Red

Part 3: Malaise

Part 4: Possibilities

Part 5: Break Down

Part 6: Support

Part 7: Perspective

Part 8: Normal?

Part 9: Hindsight

Part 10: Shift

Part 11: Empty

Postpartum Depression Quiz

I'm a fan of About Pregnancy/Birth on facebook, and I'm always impressed by the really good information posted.

One of the recent posts I found helpful is this Postpartum Depression Quiz.

"Postpartum depression (PPD) has gotten a lot of attention in recent years. While the numbers may appear to be rising, it may also be more likely that it is simply becoming more socially acceptable to admit to needing help and having difficulties in the postpartum period.

"Most women will suffer a mild bout of something called the baby blues which occurs in the first days childbirth. A smaller fraction of women will suffer from an extreme form of depression called postpartum psychosis. Postpartum depression falls in a category on its own.

"In taking this quiz you are looking at some of the most common symptoms for postpartum depression. Certain symptoms, like feeling like you may harm yourself or your baby warrant urgent attention, even if that is the only symptom you experience. The more symtoms you experience, the sooner you need to seek help. Always seek help if you desire help, even if others tell you that you are okay - you are the best judge of how you are feeling."

Click here to take the quiz and assess whether you may have PPD