From My Core: You Are Not Alone

Content warning: This piece discusses miscarriage and pregnancy loss.

One of my favorite YouTubers uploaded a video recently about a life update. I tend not to watch that kind of video, not because I don’t care, but because sometimes it is too much for me to handle, and I can’t emotionally deal with it all.

However, I did listen to this one. It must have been the universe telling me I needed to listen to this one. Originally, I could only listen for about 5 minutes before I started tearing up and needed a moment before I could finish the video. I felt so upset that he and his girlfriend had to go through such a tragedy, a miscarriage.

“There’s nothing you can really say to comfort anyone who is going through this.”

There is nothing you can really say to comfort anyone who is going through this. Saying “I’m sorry” is always okay, but it’s not really what people want to hear at the moment. I know, for me, I didn’t want to listen to what anyone wanted to say to me. Everyone’s words just felt so hollow.

Listening to him talk about his experience brought back memories I rarely talk about. I went through three miscarriages. It isn’t something I talk about often, and not many people do. The experience of finding out you are bringing a life into this world, and just in a few weeks, finding out it wasn’t happening. It’s gut-wrenching.

During my first miscarriage, I was alone. I didn’t tell anyone. To be honest, I didn’t know if it was a miscarriage until later. I was having so many issues with my cycle at the time. It was hard to tell what was going on. I kept all the details to myself, not telling my friends or my partner.

My second miscarriage, some of my friends knew about it. I was trying to hide it, but I was so excited. No matter how crazy my situation with my partner was, I was so happy to be a mom, but it didn’t happen. I was a shell of myself for a bit. I didn’t respond to anyone and was barely taking care of myself. I buried myself in an extra gig and added more responsibility at work, while I just cried alone in my room for weeks.

And then there was my third miscarriage, the worst of the three! I was in an unstable and toxic relationship and in a high-stress job. My anxiety was off the wall with this job. However, even with the madness of everything else, I was so happy. There was a heartbeat lasting longer than the last one.

I went to the doctor right away. It was super early! I was only four or five weeks when I went in. I was so scared from the last one that I wanted to make sure I was okay. When I had the ultrasound, it was just a little dot, but it was my little dot. My partner was so excited with me. We were making many plans for the future. Everything was going fine, until it wasn’t.

I started to see some bleeding, and I began to freak out. I texted my doctor at the time, and she told me it’s okay. My body didn’t feel okay. I knew I wasn’t okay. I texted my doctor a couple of days later, and she left me on read. Frustrated and scared, I knew I had to change doctors.

I didn’t want to tell anyone I was having another miscarriage. It felt embarrassing that my body couldn’t do what it’s supposed to do. Like, aren’t I supposed to be able to carry a baby? Why wasn’t my body working the way it was built for? Why wasn’t it working? Am I broken? What’s wrong with me? Am I too fat, or do I eat too much? Maybe it was the hardcore exercising I’ve been doing to lose weight? So many questions went through my mind. If I were honest, they sometimes still run through my mind.

“Why wasn’t my body working the way it was built for? Am I broken?”

I ended up getting a new doctor. The best doctor a girl can ask for in this situation, truly. He saw me every week for ten weeks during the holidays, and he had a significant life crisis in the middle of all of this. I ended up getting him a blessed rosary from the Botanica for everything he did for me, and what he was going through in his personal life.

The first week I saw him, I was already in tears in the office, before he could let me know that the heartbeat wasn’t as fast as it should have been. The following week, there was no heartbeat. I had to go to another doctor to make sure his diagnosis was correct. Unfortunately for me, it was.

After the news, I had to have a D&C surgical procedure because my body wasn’t naturally releasing my little dot. I was a mess. I didn’t care about anything or anyone. I was embarrassed, sad, angry, and frustrated. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. I quit my high-stress job. I blamed it on my body not being able to carry my dot. I was broken. I had the D&C between Thanksgiving and Christmas. My family didn’t know. I didn’t tell anyone, except my baby sister and a couple of close friends.

The New Year came, and I was back in the doctor’s office. I still had some tissue left in me for my little dot. It was like he didn’t want to let go of me. The doctors gave me medicine, but none of it would work. A couple of days after my birthday in February, I had to go back and get another D&C surgical procedure to make sure that the remaining tissue didn’t cause me an infection and risk my life. It was scary going through all of this, but I’m so glad my doctor was there for me. He personally performed the second D&C.

Right before I went under, he asked me what I wanted to listen to. I said salsa, hoping that would bring me closer to my mother. I fell into a deep sleep to Aguanile by Willie Colón. Thanks to the Lord for the kindness of my doctor, who made me feel comfortable in the most challenging times of my life.

“Thanks to the Lord for the kindness of my doctor, who made me feel comfortable in the most challenging times of my life.”

I will say that during this whole process, I only cared about my own feelings and my own hurt. I realized after the fact that my partner was as hurt and devastated as I was. We never talked about the pain both of us were in. It definitely did a number on our relationship. He was as hurt, if not more, than I was about it. He already had children; I didn’t think to ask whether he cared as much as I did. I was hurt and just felt alone in the process. Looking back, I wish we had talked more about the pain that we both felt going through that experience.

After three miscarriages, it still feels taboo to talk about it. I didn’t know how many people in my family had miscarriages until after the fact. Not that I openly talked about mine, but it would come up here and there. I’m always astounded when another family member brings up their experience to me. I just never thought that other people felt the way I did. I just felt like I was the only one.

I wish it weren’t as taboo. If people knew that those around them had gone through a similar experience, they would not feel alone, and the process would be a bit easier. To have a support unit that understands what’s going on makes the healing process bearable.

“If people knew those around them had gone through something similar, they would not feel so alone.”

That’s why I am grateful to one of my favorite YouTubers for speaking out about his experience. People need to know that they are not alone. Both men and women. There are no comforting words I can give anyone who has experienced it. All I can say is that you are not alone, and please don’t suffer in silence. There is support for you.

If you or someone you know has experienced pregnancy loss, support is available through the March of Dimes.