As I approached the doctor’s office, my anxiety was palpable. I couldn’t quite grasp why I felt so unsettled about my appointment with Dr. Lawrence, my obstetrician-gynecologist. This was my fourth visit in five years and a follow-up after my recent miscarriage—a second consultation following a D&C procedure. I hoped my nerves would ease once I arrived, but despite trying to focus on positive thoughts and deep breathing, anxiety surged within me. I was terrified of discovering the reason behind this latest loss.
What was fueling my fear? The answer was straightforward: I blamed myself. The thought of seeing the doctor meant facing my deepest fear—that I was responsible for the death of my baby.
Just six weeks prior, my husband and I were excitedly heading to our 12-week ultrasound. Only a month earlier, we had seen our baby’s strong heartbeat and anticipated seeing its little face that day. Instead, we learned that the baby had stopped growing at 10 weeks. We had lost our fourth little angel.
As the shock subsided, I found myself consumed with guilt, trying to pinpoint when the baby had died. Had I inadvertently caused this? During my 10th week of pregnancy, I had taken a trip to New York City with my mother and sister. Did something happen there that affected the pregnancy?
Was it the soft mozzarella I enjoyed at an Italian restaurant? It was delicious, but perhaps it wasn’t pasteurized. Was it the fact that I walked an average of six miles daily? My body was not accustomed to such exertion. Could it have been that sip of wine my sister encouraged me to try? I should have known better.
What about flying? I’ve had circulation issues, requiring me to take baby aspirin during pregnancy. Did the flight impede the oxygen flow essential for my baby’s growth? Had I consumed too much caffeine? I aimed for a limit of 200 mg, but maybe I miscalculated. Somewhere deep down, I felt that losing the baby was my fault. It had to be.
The devastation of a fourth loss was overwhelming. After successfully having my two daughters, Lily and Emma, following my first three losses, I had convinced myself that I would not experience another heartbreak. Clearly, I was mistaken. Each pregnancy felt like a game of Russian roulette with a baby’s life.
As I sat in the reception area, I was quickly called back by my doctor’s nurse, Sarah. She expressed her condolences for my loss before taking my blood pressure, which registered at 148/98—far above my usual 110/70. I needed to calm myself.
While waiting for the doctor, I repeated affirmations to myself, trying to convince my racing mind that I was not to blame for my baby’s death. I reminded myself that miscarriages are common in the first trimester; the true miracle lies in a successful full-term pregnancy. Ultimately, I understood that no matter the cause, I couldn’t change the outcome—I could only wait for my doctor’s insights.
After a few minutes, Dr. Lawrence entered the room and offered me a comforting hug. She had been with me through every loss and always maintained an optimistic outlook. Taking a seat, she shared the results of the genetic testing conducted on the fetus.
“Your baby was a girl,” she said.
I couldn’t help but laugh, astonished that my intuition had been correct all along. I had believed my baby was a girl since I was five weeks pregnant.
“It seems there were some extra chromosomes. It’s tough to determine if they originated from the baby or the placenta, but other markers suggest it was likely the baby. Notably, there was an extra chromosome 21, which can indicate Down’s Syndrome.”
A wave of relief washed over me. I realized I could stop blaming myself; there had been something wrong with the baby from the very start. Dr. Lawrence reassured me that the chances of this happening again were low, despite my age. I informed her that my husband and I planned to try for another baby, and she smiled, encouraging me to call her the moment I received a positive pregnancy test.
While a part of me still fears experiencing another loss if I conceive again—especially at 42, where the odds are not in my favor—I can only hope to avoid further heartbreak. Until then, I will cherish my husband and my beautiful daughters, Lily and Emma.
For those navigating similar experiences, resources like CDC’s guide on infertility can provide valuable insights. If you’re considering options for conception, check out this informative post about at-home insemination kits. Furthermore, you might find inspiration in stories of others who thought they had tried everything until they discovered Make A Mom.
Summary:
Navigating the emotional landscape of miscarriage can be incredibly challenging, especially when self-blame takes hold. This article recounts a personal journey through loss, guilt, and ultimately, understanding. It highlights the importance of seeking support and recognizing that many factors can contribute to miscarriage beyond personal control.