I thought it would be easier to write the story of miscarrying a pregnancy, but here I am writing my fifth beginning to this story. It’s hard to find the right words to express the extreme sorrow that comes with knowing that the baby I had been carrying inside me for 13 weeks was in distress.

At 13 weeks, we still hadn’t heard a heartbeat but the baby kept growing and we could see the registration of a heartbeat on the Doppler, an instrument used to pick up a baby’s heartbeat in early pregnancy, but still no sound.  My husband and I continued to reassure ourselves that the baby was just hiding and everything was ok.

On the fourth day of week 13, I woke up to my first “feeling pregnant” day.  Up until this point, my symptoms were fatigue and moodiness toward Marzen, my husband, which by 13 weeks we just started laughing about because we were so used to it.  

This particular day, I woke up with a pressure in my abdomen; a pressure I’d felt many times before when I am about to get my period. I couldn’t eat and I didn’t want anything to drink.  This was odd to say the least but I brushed it off thinking I was finally having “normal” pregnancy symptoms.

I noticed spotting starting on Sunday, told my midwife, and tried to stay positive.  As long as the spotting didn’t turn into blood and clotting, I knew I was fine. But each night, the spotting got worse and Marzen and I became more anxious.  I left the studio Wednesday afternoon and took my normal post workout shower and my worst fear actualized; blood running down the drain.

Alone in my apartment, as my body miscarried our baby, I began to grieve.  I felt sorrow and anger toward the purest form of loss I’d ever felt. I cried, not just for me, but for all the mothers around the world who had experienced this type of loss.  I cried for all the mothers who couldn’t experience this kind of loss and I cried for our baby whom I would never meet.

As I lifted my head from my tears, I realized I was losing blood and fast. I started to lose consciousness. After two units of blood and a D&C, the most terrifying night of our lives was finally over.

In the wake of our loss, my husband and I are filled with grief and also with gratitude and hope.  We are grateful that I will recover from this and are hopeful to have a family one day.

When we first got pregnant, we did what many modern pregnant couples do and downloaded an app.  The app asked us to give our baby a name and we chose Coco. Before Coco, I had no idea if I ever wanted to be a mom. I didn’t know what it would be like to be pregnant or if I would like it or be “good” at it.  I had so many fears and doubts. What Coco taught me is that I am a mom, a badass one, who is capable of more than I could ever imagine!  Coco taught me to love being pregnant and the process that goes with it. Most importantly, Coco taught me that all things are possible.  

 

As Marzen and I lay together in my hospital bed the last thing we saw on television before we fell asleep was a Channel No. 5 commercial with the words “Coco Forever” on screen.  Coco, we will always love you and remember you as the one who taught us to be parents.

I would like to give a special thanks to Karen and Sam and our entire Fuse community. You walked with me through the joys of being pregnant, you worked out with me, you shared advice, encouragement and most of all, love.  Marzen and I are so grateful!