I guess there is no easy way to say this. It happened again. We made it to 5 weeks this time. We found out at 3w3d, told our immediate family at 4 weeks and had a miscarriage at 5 weeks. I was going to tell the rest of our family on Christmas and tell y’all the day after. My betas were doubling. I was exhausted, already enjoying a touch of morning sickness, and my boobs were sore. Everything looked good; everything felt good, but something went terribly awry. I can’t help but blame myself and wonder if my fall played a role in this.
The miscarriage started Saturday. I went pee and noticed a light pink discharge and a tiny tiny clot, the size of an eye lash. I tried to calm myself down. My parents were with me. My eldest nephew was with me. I was at home, about to leave for one of the boy’s football games. I told my mom and decided to stay home. Keep my feet up. Rest. Take a nap. So, I did. I laid on the couch all afternoon. I lightly traced my fingers on my belly and talked to the baby. I told the baby how much I already loved him/her. Everything I read online says it’s common to have a little 1st trimester spotting. I talk myself off the ledge. The bleeding seemed to have stopped and I brought Kevin up to speed since he was in LA, boarding his plane to come home. I thought we were in the clear and everything was fine now. No more spotting, nothing. Somewhere around 6pm, as Kevin was driving home from the airport, the bleeding came out of nowhere. The clots, the heavy, heavy bleeding, the cramps. I knew it was over. I wiped my eyes, placed my hand on my belly and whispered, “You can go be with TC now.” (We called the first baby we lost TC)
I’ve called my OB’s office this morning to let them know. I’m calling a Reproductive Endocrinologist today to start that process.
I’m trying to stay strong. I’m trying to remain optimistic for the future. I’m trying to stay in control. I’m trying not to fall apart. But at the end of the day, I’m gutted.