Karin’s Story: Surviving a Miscarriage

When my husband and I first talked about having children, we imagined many things: how it would feel to take that pregnancy test, holding our hands on my tummy to feel the baby kick, my emotional outbursts that would be inevitable due to my messed up hormone levels.

What we got instead was heartbreak, a river of never ending tears and a rollercoaster ride through depression and grief. The pregnancy we talked and dreamed about for so long ended in a miscarriage.

To me, it signifies the end of one part of my life and the beginning of a new one where the path wasn’t clear, my purpose was lost and I wondered how life should look like with part of my heart and soul missing. The journey through grief is a challenging one to say the least and one that never ends. That is not per se a bad thing. Grief teaches us many things and we grow as humans immensely when we experience loss. After all, it takes an awful amount of strength to go through the worst (losing a child) and continue on living and finding joy, love and happiness again.

For me, my journey began back in May 2011. Life was pretty good. We had moved to Melbourne from overseas and had finally settled in a bit. Michael found a good job he enjoyed, we lived somewhere we liked and after months of searching I found a job as well. I didn’t like it but it meant work and getting back into the workforce. You would think a baby was the next logical step. As it happened, I fell pregnant. I had an inkling about it but it was the weekend and our local pharmacy was closed. So I went on Monday to buy a test and took it. It was positive. I couldn’t believe it. I went and bought another test, took it – and got the same result. Wowsers!

I didn’t quite know what to make of it. We wanted children but I was not ready, I thought. My job sucked and it was stressful and I was worried how I would go being pregnant and working ridiculous hours in a toxic environment. My husband was on cloud 9 when I called him to tell the news! I, on the other hand, felt nothing and everything at once. I was scared, anxious, terrified, not ready and a little bit excited. A baby! We would have a baby! I went through the motions on a daily basis. I woke wanting the baby very much and went to bed crying because of the uncertainty of our future. I spent the first six weeks of my short pregnancy worrying and stressing about things I shouldn’t have. One day I woke up and decided that things will be alright and we can do this! I went to work feeling elevated for the first time in weeks. At 11am that day, I started spotting.

On the drive home from work I was crying, pleading with my baby, ‘please, stay with me. Please, stay with me.’ It was not meant to be. I got home and as the day progressed, I experienced strong stomach cramps and the spotting turned to bleeding. We went to emergency, hoping for reassurance and hope. We were met with disinterest, a long wait and no kindness. We were just one of those couples who tried and lost so let’s all move on, shall we?

I was in complete shock. I wanted the doctor to tell me everything will be alright. Instead, I was told to go and have an ultrasound the following week. This was the start of our two week ordeal where we had three ultrasound appointment, one technician worse than the other, and doctors who would send us home with no support or encouraging words. I remember how every day was going by in slow motion. I kept bleeding and it would not stop. We didn’t know what to think or feel. The baby had grown a little bit between scans but there was no heartbeat. What were we to make of this? We received our final answer on July 1 2011. Finally, a lovely technician who started her findings by saying ‘I am sorry.’ Our baby had died.

This day is etched into my memory forever and so deep, I can remember details of the technician’s office, what she wore and how she spoke, what she said!! When I think of that day, it feels like I am reliving my worst nightmare over and over again. Only it wasn’t over then. Not by a long shot.

Losing my baby at 8 weeks of pregnancy was my first real experience with death and grief. I remember vaguely that my grandfather died when I was six but we weren’t close with him so I had no idea what his death meant. Now, I knew very well what it meant. My baby died inside me. I never met my little bean but despite my worries, I had loved the baby from day one. And now someone I loved so dearly was gone – just like that.

I tumbled and fell into a deep dark hole. I was overcome with intense sadness and sheer terror. My baby was dead but my body wasn’t able to abort it by itself. We had to go back to hospital where I was admitted straight away. Later that night, a D&C was performed. By the time I woke up, my womb was empty and my baby gone.

Days and weeks of confusion, tears and an overall feeling of walking through thick fog with no direction followed. I couldn’t get a grip. In my desperation to make sense of my feelings, I turned to writing. I am a trained journalist and writing has always been part of my life when things got complicated. Poems, small stories and sometimes nonsensical sentences poured onto paper. One day I thought about what kind of advice I would have liked to get in those early days after my loss. That is how I started writing my ebook ‘How to survive a miscarriage – a guide for women, their partners, friends and families’. I never intended to write a whole book but it just happened over time. On my grief journey, I spoke to many other women who had suffered a loss just like me or a similar one. This felt like a fresh breath of air. After month and months trapped in sadness and feeling so very alone, I started to realise that I was not alone. I remember the loneliness I felt still very well. It felt like no one cared and even worse, I was pressured by my environment to stay silent about my loss. No one cared about my baby other than myself and my hubby. It was an awful experience to go through on top of my ‘normal’ grieving. I kept wondering if I was entitled to my pain. Was I just carrying on? Was I being overly dramatic? I was hurting. I was sad. I was angry. But above all, I missed my baby and all the things that could have been. Yet, it was just me, missing my little bean. To this day, I sometimes wonder if I am entitled to my pain. The truth is, I am. My baby was real, my child existed and so did yours. If you struggle after a miscarriage to make sense of life then that is normal and one of many challenges grief has thrown our way.

My loss happened five years ago. In this time I suffered and cried countless times. And not a day has gone by when I didn’t think of my little bean in one way or another. He will always be with me – and that is how it should be.

Without You

I thought I lost you
But you are still here
You have been patient
Waiting for me
To acknowledge you

I ran from you
Because people denied you for me
But now I realise
You are in my soul – forever
Your memory is stronger than I ever thought
And I didn’t let you in

Is the dark cloud above me
From your sadness as well?
Do you crave an identity?
You are more to me than just a tiny thing
You are real to me
I am sorry I did not tell you earlier

Know that you have a place in my soul
And one in my heart
Don’t be afraid of the dark hole next to it
I will protect you from it
Because now I know – you are part of me

I miss you, my child.

About the author

Karin Holmes is a Canberra based writer and the author of the ebook ‘How to survive a miscarriage – a guide for women, their partners, friends and families’. Karin is mum to one angel baby in heaven and two little girls here on earth.

www.karinholmes.com