Part 4: The world doesn’t stop.

Pregnancy LossGriefMiscarriagePersonal
Written By Nichole Velez

My story of early pregnancy loss

Before you read on I want to let you know that my story of early pregnancy loss will go into detail about things that I experienced, felt and saw. This may not be comfortable for you. I don’t do this to be shocking, I am doing this because I don’t want to forget. Even though it was early, this pregnancy was real and this baby was wanted. I want all the other mothers who have experienced loss to know that no matter when you see that positive test, any and all of your feelings surrounding your pregnancy are valid. I want others to know what might happen and what your loved one might be going through. Of course every person’s experience is different, but because I serve the community that I do, I find that it is important to offer some perspective and by doing so my support.

It’s a weird feeling to have something so terrible happen and to see that the world doesn’t stop. I remember thinking this when I woke up the next day and opened my eyes. Diego was already awake and asking for breakfast and I still had to fold my linens for the appointments I had. The world doesn’t stop. 

I decided that I still wanted to work the next day. I know most people probably wouldn’t and it may seem strange, especially given the key demographic of my massage clientele, prenatal and postpartum women. But my body felt like it could and I didn’t want to sit around. I also really dreaded the thought of having to make those last minute phone calls letting a client know I needed to cancel and then, them potentially asking me why. Even if I replied with a vague reason, I didn’t want to think about the real reason.

Working felt like the right decision for me. The day I worked was my postpartum massage day, so it was all mobile and I had 3 newly postpartum moms. I could get through that and I could keep my mind on their problems, not my own.  

It was difficult, but not as difficult as I thought it would be. Working with these women gave my hands something to do and gave my brain something else to think about. Between each session in my car, I certainly had moments where I pulled into a parking lot to cry.

I remember purposefully deciding not to wear any eye makeup that day. That was a smart choice. 

For the next few days my body still cramped, and I still bled, but physically for me this was all tolerable. Emotionally and mentally it was hard. Everytime I went to the restroom it was a constant reminder of what was happening. 

We decided to go back to the same ER early Monday morning so I could get new bloodwork done to confirm the miscarriage and hopefully rule out ectopic pregnancy. Though I really hoped I would be interacting with the same people I saw before, that didn’t happen. It was different medical staff, and though they weren’t rude I didn’t experience the same kindness I had before. 

The nurse who checked me in, couldn’t hear or understand me, so I had to repeatedly say why I was there. I had a miscarriage, and was told to come back for additional blood work. Over and over again I had to repeat that while people in the waiting room listened. She finally brought me back to speak with another provider. 

I was taken to get my blood drawn by a phlebotomist who didn’t even bother to look up from his computer or say hello. Without looking at me, he directed me to sit in a chair and kept wondering out loud if he had the right equipment. As he drew my blood I started silently crying. 

We were then directed back to the lobby and for the next hour and half waited on our results. HGTV was playing on the TV in the lobby and we watched as different happy couples designed their beautiful homes, as we waited to hear the confirmation that we lost our baby.

A nurse finally called me back and sat me down. She wasn’t rude but her demeanor in relaying such sensitive information was lacking. She pulled out the paperwork circled a number and said, Your hCG levels did go down, its a 1…so basically 0. And that was it. It was, as she so flippantly said, “basically 0”, which means I did miscarry. I knew that I did, but hearing it like that seemed harsh, almost like it didn’t matter. And for her, it didn’t. I didn’t say much after that and we just headed home. 

As the next few weeks passed I learned to process and if I’m honest I’m still learning. I knew that I didn’t want to forget this experience, this pregnancy, this sliding doors-esque future I imagined. I wanted something to honor and remember it. I found these beautiful necklaces in which a Forget Me Not seed was encased. A Forget Me Not is a flower which symbolizes true, undying love. It literally means I will not forget and it signifies a connection that lasts through time. It seemed appropriate and it gave me comfort. I’ve worn it everyday since receiving it.

There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought about what happened. Some moments I’m fine but others have me in tears. Not only tears for my lost pregnancy but tears because I’m realizing that I lost something I didn’t even know I could lose. I lost trust in my body. I lost the blissful innocence women have when they haven’t experienced this kind of thing. I lost feeling safe in pregnancy.

I know that I want to try again, but the thought of taking another pregnancy test is no longer exciting to me, it’s scary. Becoming pregnant is not exciting anymore, it worries me because I know I will always have that lingering thought, what if it happens again? 

It’s heavy and it’s a lot to work through, but writing through it helps. Talking out loud with friends, professionals and with the other women who experienced the same thing helps. When I shared about this on Instagram, I did so to connect with others. It was overwhelming the amount of people who shared their own experiences. I knew this was common, but I had no idea how many people around me went through it and I hope you know how much I appreciate you with all my heart. Down below I’ve linked their kind words and sage advice.

The world didn’t stop. This terrible thing happened and I had to keep on doing life. I still have to. But this is why I’m sharing my story, because I want you to know that you are not alone in this. I want you to know that no matter when you experience this loss it fucking hurts, and it will continue to hurt, and from what other women have told me it always will, but it does ease.  

Grief takes time and it is a process. You may have felt the same things I’ve mentioned here, or you might have felt something entirely different, every person’s journey through this is unique. When you are ready I encourage you to reach out to your community, to other moms, to others who have been through this. We’ll be there ready to offer love and support. And if you happen to be that community, welcome your loved one with open arms, be a shoulder to cry on and watch your tongue. Understand that no matter how early the pregnancy was, how many children they may already have, the fact that “thing’s happen for a reason”, those words are not helpful, they hurt. Validate and empathize, or simply stay silent and bring them dinner.

I may not be as excited as I could be if I didn’t have this happen, but I’m still hopeful. I will always feel this loss, but little by little, I’m hopeful.

Part 3 HERE.

If you are or have experienced pregnancy loss, you are not alone. Speak with your healthcare provider for additional help and support, and if you are in need of resources here are some you might find helpful:

Nichole Velez
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Part 3: It came in waves.