Last week, I experienced my third miscarriage and D&E surgery, and I’m ready to talk about it …

There’s always a little bit of embarrassment around talking about this topic. Did I do something wrong? Is there something wrong with me? Is it ridiculous to write about miscarriage for a third time? All of these thoughts have been swirling in my head, as I debated whether to devote a full post to this situation again.

The first time I had a miscarriage, it was unexpected and new, and I wanted to share my experiences with you. The second time, it was incredibly heartbreaking, and I needed to share my experiences to sort through my feelings. And now, the third time … it’s just … unfortunate, and yet, it’s also eye-opening, and that part does feel worthy of expressing in words.

While in the past I’ve detailed every moment of my doomed pregnancies before leading up to the miscarriages, I’ve talked about my doctors’ appointments and I’ve even explained the procedures, my time at the hospital and my recoveries — I’m not sure I have it in me to get into the nitty gritty with this one.

Here’s the gist: This pregnancy was rough on me and I was the most unwell I’ve ever felt in any of my four pregnancies this time (yes, I’ve now been pregnant four times). But no, I never really let myself get excited or get my hopes up — to protect myself — and it’s a good thing I didn’t. I found out I was pregnant at 3 weeks and 6 days. I found out I was miscarrying at 7 weeks and 1 day. So it was only a few weeks I lived in limbo, and I’m truly thankful it didn’t go any longer than that (knowing that it would ultimately end), because last time went to 10 weeks, and I had so much hope by then, and the letdown was awful.

Let’s talk about what I’ve learned this time around with my third miscarriage …

What having a third miscarriage has taught me about life

A change in perspective

During my second of three ultrasounds with this pregnancy, when I found out that the embryo inside of me was not measuring properly and the cardiac activity was merely an unreadable flicker (a sign that a miscarriage was pending), I was sad, frustrated, and truly embarrassed to be a repeat candidate for a third time. But when I got home that day and saw my mom, Brady and Rudy waiting for me, something in me changed. Hear me out …

I already have so much. I don’t need this pregnancy. I will be okay.

If you look around social media, and in my case, also look around my community, it can seem like everyone has two, three or four kids. When we lived in California, I never felt strange about only having one kid, because it was so much more normal and accepted there, and it was 100 percent the choice we wanted for our lives. Expanding our family was not a thing. Our plan was always to have one.

But now that we’ve been back in the Southeast, and in Charlotte in particular, sometimes I feel different for having one kid, and I occasionally desire an addition. And perhaps I’ve even belittled what I already have too. I don’t know how many times I’ve answered the question about “how many kids do you have?” with “only one.” And as of today, I’ve decided and committed to never answer that way again. I don’t have only one kid. I have a kid. I grew him in my body, I birthed him, I breastfed him, and I am his mother, and that’s a huge deal. It’s a huge deal that I know some women will never get to experience, and I did. And now, I’ve never been so very grateful for my little crazy-haired creature than I am today, and I know Dave feels this with me. Having one child is not less than, it is more than. And it is enough.

The path to my first (and only full-term) pregnancy

I’m not saying I wasn’t grateful for Brady before, because I was. It took me a long time to get pregnant, especially after once having a doctor tell me I’d never get pregnant without IVF. But I did. I changed my diet, I got weekly acupuncture, I drank herbal concoctions, I completely altered my exercise and work routines, I gained 20 pounds, and I was able to jump-start my natural cycle, recover from hypothalamic amenorrhea, and a year later, I got pregnant naturally and had a great pregnancy with no complications (outside of a delivery fiasco, which sucked at the time, but doesn’t seem so bad now that we’re 5.5 years out from it).

When I was in that pregnancy, I knew how much it meant to me and to Dave. I was so close to the struggle, that it stayed top of mind, you know? It may not have been in the cards for us to have a baby like we did … and we did it! Almost every day, I felt deep gratitude, and that was such a good feeling.

And throughout these last five-and-a-half years, we’ve loved being parents to our little guy so much. Yet, over time, somehow I’ve forgotten that having a baby is not a guarantee for everyone, and I’ve forgotten what a miracle Brady was and is for us every single day. He’s the funniest, silliest, sweetest and best guy, and I wouldn’t change a single thing about him. He brings joy to every moment.

Always keeping the door open to more

Over the last two years, I’ve mentally toiled with the idea of having another baby, and at times I’ve been totally interested, and at times, I’ve not been interested. And I think everyone who knows me well, knows that’s how I feel. Even in that gray space, I knew I wanted to give it a try. And yet, even after the first two miscarriages, as much as I wanted to shut the door on the idea, because of the pain it was causing me — I couldn’t quite shut it. But now, as of today, I know in my gut that the third miscarriage was the last try. For my own self-preservation, I can’t let myself go through this again, and I know that with absolute certainty.

I’ve always felt my heart and family was full and complete — never feeling like we truly needed anyone else. But I’ve also let myself focus on the “what ifs” a lot, and perhaps at times, I’ve led myself down a path to thinking we needed to have another child — maybe a bit for us — but also a lot for other people who were hoping for it an expecting it and maybe a bit for Brady’s future too. And if one of these three pregnancies had worked out and we had another baby with us now, we’d be completely elated, of course. That would be our story. But it’s not, and we’re okay with that too. Instead, this is our story. 

Finding my gratefulness and holding onto it

Now, some of you will say to keep trying. Brady must have a sibling. You’ll never regret the effort. You need a second baby. Go to a fertility doctor. You’ll change your mind when it’s too late. Adopt. Use a surrogate. Etc, etc. And while I love that we have these options for the modern-day family, I also know that my heart is not pulled in those ways. Nor is Dave’s. We have no desire to go down those paths. And we know that.

In fact, this third loss has truly cemented to us that what we wanted has always been right under our noses. I do not wish to spend another moment wondering “what if.” I do not wish to spend another moment thinking “if only.” I do not wish to waste more time in limbo. I will only spend the rest of my moments being so incredibly thankful for the family I have today and enjoying them to the fullest. I’m so lucky to be Brady’s mom, to be Dave’s wife, to be my mom’s daughter — and to have all those people right here with me in Charlotte. And while I don’t need anyone else in the world to understand me, I do feel the need to explain this shift in thinking … It’s an elevation of appreciation for my current situation, rather than another sad occurrence that drags me down and weighs on me. And I know for a fact that I haven’t felt a revelation like this before from any of the losses I’ve had in the last two years.

How I’m doing today after my third miscarriage

So how am I doing today? I’m recovering. At times, I’m sad. And this is the type of grief that won’t go away over night. But mostly, right now, I’m clear headed. I believe my D&E surgery went as well as it could, and after being pumped with painkillers, I started out the healing process in good condition, with only a few tears each day (I actually shed more tears during the actual pregnancy).

This time, I wasn’t scared of the hospital. I wasn’t scared of the IV. I wasn’t scared of the anesthesia. I wasn’t scared of the surgery. I wasn’t scared of the pain. I wasn’t scared of anything. Even my nurses told me I was pro in the situation, as they cared for me and prepped me for one last D&E. It’s not something I ever wanted to go through, but it’s something that has taught me a lot now that I’ve done it three times.

My first recovery was tough, because I didn’t know it would be so hard. My second recovery was tough, because I had been further along in the pregnancy and had much more healing to do. And this time, honestly, I was so sick during the pregnancy part, that the recovery part has felt easier, with only minimal-to-moderate cramping. I spent a few days laying low after the surgery (and watching a ton of TV), but every day, I’ve been stronger and more ready to return to life.

And by the way, because I know you’re wondering, even after a lot of testing, we haven’t ever uncovered a medical reason as to why I’ve had these three miscarriages, so they just haven’t been meant to be.

What’s next for me and for our family

Each day, I do think I’ll physically feel more normal. This week, I’ll return to my classes, tennis and social life. I do look forward to feeling strong and well, because even though it’s been a little less than a month, I haven’t felt truly good in some time, and I’m not someone who enjoys being under the weather. I’ve been having a very difficult time teaching my classes and doing life, and I don’t want to feel that difficulty any more. I also don’t want to carry around the weight of wondering if my pregnancy will work out or not. This last time, the weight of it was crushing to me and affected me very negatively. And that weight is now gone.

Moving forward, I’ll also close the door on the questions about our future, and honestly, that is a huge thing off my plate. I’ve wanted to have certainty and haven’t had it these last few years. But today, I have certainty, and Dave and I are on the same page 100 percent. We will no longer spend any time picturing a different future, because we want to focus on our gratefulness in the here and now with what we have in front of us.

To be very honest, I do feel a little bit of fear about putting this out there. But because I’ve always been so open … it just doesn’t make sense to all of a sudden go silent on my thoughts and plans, now that they’ve changed so much with this final and third miscarriage.

I feel many emotions. I have felt a lot of pain. I have cried a lot. (And I’m pretty sure for the rest of my life, when I hear Miranda Lambert’s “I’ll Be Loving You,” I’ll always fall apart — feeling a deep connection to that song after my second miscarriage, where I truly was heartbroken for the baby I lost.) But right now, as of today, I am truly okay, even though these three losses will always be part of our journey, and we do not take them lightly.

Making a decision is freeing

Decisions are hard. And living in the in-between is hard too. I’ve felt the toll of indecisions for a couple years, and it’s not something I want to feel any longer. 

The thing is, although some people get to decide what their family looks like, some people do not, and I want to tell each and every one of you this: Whatever you do, think about yourself first. Your happiness. Your life. Your choice. Your well-being. It’s up to you. If you feel pulled to keep pushing in a certain direction, then push. But if you start to waver, then reevaluate why you’re trying to do what you’re trying to do. Maybe the answer is right there in front of you. I’ve got my answer now.

I don’t feel like I was forced into this decision just because of my circumstances. I know plenty of women/families who have gone through way worse situations in order to get the family they want, and they never gave up. And I know this because so many of you have shared your miscarriage experiences with me, and I’ve so appreciated your openness to share.

My path to a decision has included quite a bit of physical and emotional pain, but honestly, just the sheer fact that I now know the answer sets me free from so much of that pain. My gratitude for what’s here in my life has never been greater, and I’m truly thankful for this feeling.

I already have so much. I will be okay.

Thank you for reading

I want to thank you for reading this post about my third miscarriage and letting me share my thoughts with you. And I ask that you remember that this is my story, and mine alone, so please don’t pass any judgment if it’s not something you understand, just as I wouldn’t pass judgment on you for your choices. Be well, friend. Hold your loved ones close, and do your very best to appreciate what’s right there in front of you. Today. And always.

Other posts you may like

• My experience with a miscarriage and D&E surgery
• My experience with a second miscarriage and D&E surgery
• Life after a miscarriage: A three-month update
• How I protect my fertility and hormones (life after recovering from hypothalamic amenorrhea)

…

Here’s the week-by-week recap I had started for my fourth pregnancy:

Week 4: I found out I was pregnant one day before the four-week mark, and I was quite surprised. I had been feeling period-like symptoms, and had even started bleeding, so I was almost certain it was a period. However, something made me think otherwise, so I took the last of my home pregnancy tests left over from a big box I had purchased last year. The first was positive, the second was negative, the third was positive. I held this news all afternoon and told Dave over the dinner table — full of nothing but dread for what could be ahead, with zero ability to be excited. I had a sore chest, light bleeding and that’s about it. I scheduled a doctor’s visit on the day I turned four weeks, and I was so hydrated when I went in that the urine test came out negative. I also did an HCG blood-test that day and came back 48 hours later for another one — and those tests showed that my HCG levels had risen as they should (350 to 900), so it was a good sign. I told my mom, and I told a few of my girlfriends at brunch — and it felt good to not have to hold this information in, especially because of my nerves. 

Week 5: I started out week five waiting to hear back from my doctor’s office. When they finally got back to me, they wanted me to schedule an ultrasound in four weeks from then, and I wasn’t about to sit around and wait that long — knowing that I was coming off two miscarriages and had already had some bleeding. I asked for more HCG testing, so they let me schedule two more blood-tests to check on my HCG levels. This week, I felt very tired in my workouts and I also felt a wave of fatigue in the afternoons — much more than normal. I also had a sore chest and felt incredibly bloated and negative, and toward the end of the week I had some bad cramping and some more bleeding too, which didn’t seem like a good sign to me at all. Emotionally, I tried my best not to get excited or attached to the idea of the pregnancy for fear that it wouldn’t end well. In fact, if I found myself thinking about it working out, I would immediately stop myself. This was tough. 

Week 6: I got the results for my two HCG tests, and my levels were 9,000, then 13,000 two days later. The levels probably should have doubled, but they only went up about 40 percent, which wasn’t a great thing, but it also wasn’t the end of the world. When I went to get the second blood-test, apparently I was dehydrated, because they couldn’t get my blood after four attempts, through my arms and my hand (ouch). It was awful. I had to chug a bunch of water and go back later to a special lab to try again, and that attempt was successful. Because I was having bleeding, because I was coming off two previous miscarriages and because I had had that whole ordeal with the unsuccessful blood draws, I was able to convince a nurse to find me an earlier ultrasound appointment, and so I scheduled it for the following day. On six-weeks-and-one-day pregnant, I got an ultrasound, and there was a fetal pole, but no heartbeat. Once again, it wasn’t a good sign, but it wasn’t the end of the world either, because it was so early. My doctor said, “it’s a 50/50 chance things could work out.” Then, she told me to come back in a week for another ultrasound, so I scheduled it for a week later and pulled out of my first real tennis match, which was supposed to take place at that time. The rest of week six included some light bleeding, major fatigue, a general unwell/sick feeling, and I even had a weird sore neck which lasted for four days and drove me insane, on top of the other unpleasant symptoms I was dealing with. Basically, this week, I felt like total crap, and it was really hard to be positive. I spent far too much time Googling my situation to try to find similar stories to know what my chances really were — but that didn’t get me anywhere. We had our 11th wedding anniversary, and instead of going out to celebrate, I laid on the couch watching reality TV, complaining about how sick and miserable I felt. I hadn’t done that in a long time. I started to think I had more than just pregnancy symptoms, because I started to feel worse and worse. I was tired, my heart was racing, I had nausea, and I even started coughing and had an awful headache. This was a rough time. 

Week 7: On the day I turned seven weeks, I got another ultrasound, and I had to go to South Carolina for it, because my office had no availability. I got very confusing news this day, which didn’t sit well with me, because I felt so incredibly awful and was dying for good news and certain news. The ultrasound showed no growth, but a cardiac flicker had appeared that wasn’t there last time, so all hope was not lost. However, once the doctor came in to read me the results, she basically told me that there was a 90 percent chance I would lose this pregnancy too, but she didn’t know when. She also told me that I wouldn’t be able to “manage the loss” legally until the cardiac flicker went away. Luckily, she sent me to another doctor to reevaluate, and the next day I drove to Uptown for a second opinion. By the grace of God, I got an answer that day, as the ultrasound showed no measurable flickers, and although it was not a good answer, the weight/wait of not knowing was officially over. I scheduled the D&E surgery for the very next afternoon.

And that was it.