I Never Understood the Empowered Miscarriage Until Now

****** Please do not read if you will be at all triggered.  This is the story of our loss two weeks ago, which changed the way I look at loss and at myself.  I believe that it needs to be talked about, but this warning is here to let you know that it will go into detail about my labor, so please, if you need to, protect yourself and don’t read*******

We’ve lost seven babies, most of them not considered babies by the majority.  To us, they are and forever will be our children.

With six of them, I knew that a woman could feel in control and could be empowered with a loss just the same as with a live term birth, but I didn’t have that.  They devastated me completely.  I didn’t feel any sense of closure or any different from them besides the overwhelming sadness.

Almost two weeks ago, at just shy of seven weeks, I knew something was wrong.  I couldn’t put my finger on it, but I knew the pregnancy was about to end.  People told me not to think like that, that I had to be hopeful, but I trusted what I felt.  From the instant I found out I was pregnant on New Year’s Eve, I felt off.  I couldn’t put my finger on it.  I was scared it was an ectopic pregnancy, just because I didn’t feel right with it.  I did go to the worst place, but I think that helped prepare me for what happened.

I spotted red once, at about five weeks, which made me up the herbs I was taking for my progesterone and to take it a little bit easier than I was.  It freaked me out completely.  At six weeks four days, I bled.  It wasn’t a lot, but it wasn’t spotting.  Strangely, it felt more normal than the tiny bit of spotting I cried hours over.  I think at that point, the hormones were already dropping every moment and I was less emotional and more prepared for what I felt was coming.

I bled a bit again the next day, and that’s when I knew without a doubt that the pregnancy was going to end before the weekend.

I was more emotionally prepared for this loss.  I’m not sure what was different.  I was in charge of what I was doing with the pregnancy, I had made it past six weeks, I knew my progesterone levels were great, and I was confident in my body for the first time in a very long time.  Sure, I was scared we would lose another baby, but that comes with our past regardless of how connected or not I feel to the baby.

Wednesday night, at six weeks five days, I didn’t feel right.  My brother and his wife had come over for dinner, and I just couldn’t get comfortable.  My pants and bella band felt way too tight, and no matter what I did, I felt crampy.  Something wasn’t right.  I went to lie down after they left, and after a bit of rest, the contractions started.

For an hour, I lied in bed with the pain starting in my back and wrapping around my waist every few minutes.  I had my husband run to the store for pads because I wasn’t prepared and knew I couldn’t use my diva cup for what was about to happen.

When he came home, I got up to pee, and the instant I sat down, the heavy blood flow started.  Clots the size of ping pong balls came out with it, and I could feel the energy in my uterus falling out.  It was the strangest thing I’ve ever felt.

I didn’t go to bed with my husband and daughter that night because labor came on in full force.  Anyone that tells you that an early loss is just like a late period is a liar.  It hurt.  A lot.  I tried everything to get the pain to lessen, and eventually just cried in our recliner because there was nothing else I could do.  I was in so much pain.

Every couple hours I would get up and go to the bathroom, and sitting on the toilet did help.  I would only bleed while sitting there, as if my body knew that it was the best place, and it felt good.  After it would slow for a bit, I’d get up and go back to my chair.

At four am, after the bleeding and labor had been going for almost nine hours, I was able to doze.

I dreamed of our baby.

He told me not to worry about what was happening.  He showed me what happened a few days prior.  I saw his little heart stop beating, and then I saw from the outside how my symptoms slowly went away every day that I hadn’t even noticed.  He told me that he did all he could, but the only way to fix some things meant he had to pass away.  He gave me a hug, and a kiss, told me that he would see me soon, and he was gone.

I woke up and went into bed with my daughter since my husband was heading to work, and I felt peace.

I knew that the baby hadn’t passed yet, even though I had been contracting all night and bleeding, but I knew it was still there and he was waiting for me to be okay with everything before he left completely.

That day I felt alright.  My husband came home from work early to help, and my parents offered to take Glade the next day for the weekend.

That night we were all watching a movie and I knew it was time.

I got up, moved around a bit, and sure enough, the contractions came back, stronger than ever.  But I was ready.  I didn’t cry, and they were more powerful than the night before, but they didn’t hurt as much.

I knew it was time for him to go.

After about two hours of contracting, I felt it all coming out.

I went to the bathroom and sat on the toilet, and a clot the size of my palm slipped out.  With it, I knew my uterus was empty.  I felt closure.

I did what my body needed for the first time ever.  I took control, I did things my own way, and it helped more than I could ever say.

I felt great with it until Friday night when I was home alone and then the grief hit me.  I knew it would, but I am forever grateful that I had one day of peace and one day of empowerment before the walls came crashing down.

I never understood how loss could be empowering, but I do now.  It is still devastating and soul crushing, but this one happened because he couldn’t stay here.  I don’t know why, and I wish I did, but he gave me my power back.

He gave me, me.