The Rollercoaster of Pregnancy: My Miscarriage Story
Miscarriage. It’s one of those words that feels both too big and too small to describe the tidal wave of emotions that comes with it. It’s clinical yet deeply personal, a label for something that can’t quite be contained in a single term. When I miscarried while trying for my second baby, it hit me like a freight train.
I sobbed. And sobbed. And then sobbed some more. For days. Anger and hurt took turns sucker-punching me, while confusion lingered in the background like an unwelcome guest. I understood, logically, how common early miscarriages are. I knew there often isn’t an exact answer to why they happen. But that knowledge didn’t stop the ache in my chest or the feeling that something precious had been ripped away.
It felt especially unfair. I had my first child at 20; I was young, unprepared, but determined. 6 years later, I was thrilled to experience pregnancy as a grown-up with a bit more wisdom (and a better bank account). I envisioned a whole new chapter, one where I could be the mom with the cute matching outfits, a Pinterest-worthy nursery, and a solid understanding of how to fold a stroller without breaking a sweat. And then it was gone.
The Unexpected Plot Twist
Here’s where my story takes a turn (and please take this with a grain of salt, because everyone’s journey is different):
My doctor encouraged me to try again right away (assuming I was comfortable with that and felt ready, which I was), explaining that it’s often easier to conceive immediately after a miscarriage. I was skeptical but figured, “What have I got to lose?” So, when my ovulation test gave me a big fat positive the very next cycle, I literally jumped for joy in my bathroom and gave my husband the look. I instantly felt so confident in what my doctor advised.
Now, if you’ve been in the TTC (trying to conceive) trenches, you know the two-week wait is an absolute killer. You question every twinge, every craving, every mood swing. Is it a symptom? Or just the Chipotle from last night? I caved at 8DPO (days past ovulation) and used one (more like … six?) of those early First Response pregnancy test. Boom. Double lines. All of them. Were they faint? Sure. Did I squint and hold it under multiple light sources like I was analyzing evidence in a CSI lab? You bet.
The next day, a digital test confirmed it: “Pregnant.” I cried tears of joy, made an appointment with my doctor, and prayed with every fiber of my being that this one would stick.
Pregnancy After Loss: A Wild Ride
Pregnancy after miscarriage is like riding a rollercoaster with your eyes closed. Every week feels like a true milestone. Every appointment feels like a test you’re terrified to fail. I celebrated each step forward with cautious optimism, clinging to every rise in HCG levels and every reassuring ultrasound image.
And then came Tyson. My bold, fearless second child who entered the world with a “look out, people, here I come” energy that perfectly matched how he was conceived.
Tyson, newborn.
Tyson, age 3
A Message to Those in the Trenches
To anyone navigating pregnancy loss, I see you. Whether you’re still in the thick of grief, tentatively trying again, or celebrating a rainbow baby after the storm, your experience matters. There’s no right way to feel, no perfect timeline to follow. And there’s certainly no “getting over it.”
To this day, I remember the tears, the anger, and the fear. If you’re there right now, know that it’s okay to feel all the things.
And if you’re ready to try again, know this: you are brave. Whether it happens next cycle, next year, or not at all, your courage in facing this journey is incredible. Sending love and care to all parents, past, present, and future, who have walked this road.
You’re not alone.
