Chemical Pregnancy
On December 14th I found out I was pregnant. On December 19th I had a miscarriage. The medical term is a "chemical pregnancy" because it was too early to be confirmed by ultrasound. I hate the term chemical pregnancy because it trivializes the loss and grief that I feel. It was not a "false positive" it was MY baby that I lost.
I thought that I would be over it by now. But, I find that I still break down too easily when I have too much time to think or when something sparks a memory.
The strangest feeling is that I would be completely willing to trade anything for a few more weeks of pregnancy even if it meant I would have inevitably lost the baby. I don't know if it is because a few more weeks would have made the baby real to more people or if I just want a few more time to enjoy being pregnant.
But mostly, I feel angry. I feel angry that after waiting 7 months to get pregnant that I only got 4 days to enjoy it. I feel angry at all the people who get pregnant easily and complain about pregnancy symptoms. I feel angry at the people who get pregnant who cannot take care of their babies or don't want them. I feel angry at my body for failing me.
I found this post in a group on Miscarriage - A letter from women to their friends and family by Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer - and found some of it particularly relevant:
When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said to them. The lists tend to be remarkably similar. The comments are rarely malicious - just misguided attempts to soothe.
-Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible. -Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out.
-Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never disposable. If had been given the choice between loosing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.
-Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy or just after birth, I loved him or her.
-Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine - or yours.
-Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone.
- Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so angry at my body you just can't imagine.
-Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say it and mean it and it will matter.
-Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear that.
Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear with me.
I thought that I would be over it by now. But, I find that I still break down too easily when I have too much time to think or when something sparks a memory.
The strangest feeling is that I would be completely willing to trade anything for a few more weeks of pregnancy even if it meant I would have inevitably lost the baby. I don't know if it is because a few more weeks would have made the baby real to more people or if I just want a few more time to enjoy being pregnant.
But mostly, I feel angry. I feel angry that after waiting 7 months to get pregnant that I only got 4 days to enjoy it. I feel angry at all the people who get pregnant easily and complain about pregnancy symptoms. I feel angry at the people who get pregnant who cannot take care of their babies or don't want them. I feel angry at my body for failing me.
I found this post in a group on Miscarriage - A letter from women to their friends and family by Elizabeth Soutter Schwarzer - and found some of it particularly relevant:
When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said to them. The lists tend to be remarkably similar. The comments are rarely malicious - just misguided attempts to soothe.
-Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides, many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible. -Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by pointing that out.
-Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never disposable. If had been given the choice between loosing this child or stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.
-Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy or just after birth, I loved him or her.
-Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline, not mine - or yours.
-Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring it up. If I say, "Before the baby died..." or "when I was pregnant..." don't get scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone.
- Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so angry at my body you just can't imagine.
-Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say it and mean it and it will matter.
-Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear that.
Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear with me.
Labels: Miscarriage, Pregnancy
posted by Elise at 5:46 PM
1 Comments:
Hey there. I've had two chemical pregnancies in my last 4 cycles (5 months). I'm able to get pregnant on my own but my body seems not to sustain a pregnancy. I never go past 5 weeks. Therefore, its always labeled as "failed intra uterine pregnancy" aka chemical pregnancy. It's really rare to get 2 or more. 75% of women who experience this usually get pregnant on their next cycle. So there is much hope for you!!!
I understand the elated feeling when you read "pregnant" on a pee stick or see two lines but only able to enjoy it for maybe a week if you are lucky. Reading your blog post helped me out. I don't feel so alone.
I don't know why my body rejected both pregnancies and I'm really hoping its not due to chromosomal issues with the embryo. I am praying that it will be something simple like low progesterone that I can fix with supplements.
My hubby was super elated and involved when I told him (both times). I hate seeing the disappointment in his face when I tell him the bad news. I think I'm going to have to NOT tell him when I find out I'm pregnant again :-)
Again, keep your spirits up. Your post let me feel "not so alone" in this venture. 2 chemical pregnancies is a rarity and the next time you get your BFP you have a better chance at carrying to full term :-)
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