By Katie Huff, guest blogger

Nothing bad ever happens to me.

Like most famous last words, life decided to sprinkle around some irony. My period was a week late and my breasts were sore – those telltale signs from when I got pregnant the first time. Now was the perfect time for us to have another baby: our ducks were all in a row and everything was running like a well-oiled machine.

That machine started to break down when the spotting started.

I began to panic but forced myself to think about those women who bleed all during pregnancy. THIS COULD BE NORMAL.

After all, nothing bad ever happens to me. I was 23 and healthy and, despite some kidney stones and an emergency c-section with my first son, my life was fairly smooth sailing.

When I called my doctor, he simply set me up for an earlier ultrasound appointment. “Most likely nothing, it’s just to give us peace of mind.” My doctor certainly didn’t sound worried. Nothing bad ever happens to me.

Hollywood knows

You know how this plays out in the movies, right? Everyone is all happy about seeing the baby for the first time – this little bean with its heartbeat in a little, tiny sac. Then the ultrasound tech suddenly gets quiet and calmly says something along the lines of, “It’s probably nothing, but I need a doctor to double check my findings.” Despite knowing what’s wrong, she can’t say anything. The ultrasound tech can’t medically diagnose what she was trained to find with some oddly warm lube and a crystal.

If you’re starting to get that feeling in the pit of your stomach and your eyes are tearing up, maybe you’ve been there – gone through your own Hollywood-esque drama. The movies portray this scene so well, don’t they?

BECAUSE IT’S REAL. IT IS REALITY.

My husband and I got really quiet in this dark, cold room with a TV, some goop on my belly, and the picture of our baby in front of us.

When the doctor came in, he didn’t start with what was wrong with our baby, he just went into what it was. Because our baby didn’t have a heartbeat.

Blighted ovum

Our baby was a fertilized egg that didn’t progress into an embryo.

I would have a miscarriage, but he couldn’t tell me when.

Blighted ovum is one of the main causes for a miscarriage, and there’s no definitive cause for it.

DID YOU KNOW THAT ONE IN FOUR WOMEN EXPERIENCE A MISCARRAIGE?

I didn’t.

Sometimes a miscarriage is so early that it feels like a heavier, more painful period.

Everything gets blurry

Let’s go back to the movies. To when someone hears such catastrophic news that their mind doesn’t even go blank, it sort of blurs with this ringing noise.

That’s pretty much what happened to me.

Because after that doctor told us we’d already lost the baby, he matter-of-factly went on to other “concerns.” Like how I should schedule a D&C as soon as possible. Or how there was a glow on the ultrasound he’d like to further analyze. He delivered this terrible news in such a callous manner. I knew he didn’t have our best interests in mind.

So I spent the next few weeks in a blur.

My body was still trying to grow a baby. And that doctor insisted I come in every week to confirm the same diagnosis.

I cried every drive home from work, every break where I looked at myself in the mirror, and every night.

After weeks of this emotional torture, I went home one day feeling ill. And I passed my baby.

It was long and painful.

The look on my son’s face was heartbreaking. He didn’t understand why mama was crumpled in a ball on the couch. He didn’t understand why mama had to crawl to the bathroom shaking and blacking out. He didn’t understand why mama needed time without him to mourn for a sibling – a sibling he didn’t even know he should have gotten.

Miscarriage is hard

This topic is extremely heavy. But it happens to one in four women.

And that number doesn’t even include the women who suffer from infertility and can’t get pregnant in the first place.

I had a two-year-old at the time. This was the second time I physically got pregnant. I was 23 and healthy: I HAD HOPE.

There are so many women out there who never get to have a baby of their own.

For me, I was able to get pregnant again. Only to result in another miscarriage.

Then I got pregnant for the fourth time and successfully gave birth to my rainbow baby who turned one not too long ago.

Even still, when I hear one specific song, all those emotions flood me again. And every year for Christmas, we put up two little stockings next to our four bigger ones, and light two large candles.

One in four women are out there suffering the same way I have. So many women can relate. So many women still cry just thinking about this, whether it happened to them 5 days ago – or 15 years ago.

I found closure in knowing that Jesus needed my babies by his side more than I needed them. I found closure knowing that I was meant to tell my story to so many other women. BECAUSE IT IS COMMON.

Don’t fall into the trap of “nothing bad ever happens to me.” Because miscarriage doesn’t just happen to famous people. Or people in a different state or of a different nationality or religion. Infertility, miscarriage and infant loss are common. No one is immune.

Just ask the one in four women who experience a miscarriage. Or the one in ten women who struggle with infertility. And then remind them: You’re not alone. We’re in this together.

Have you been there, too? You can share your story below or on Facebook at MothersRest.

About the guest blogger:

Katie Huff is the author of the blog, Midwest Matriarch. She’s a millennial mom of two rotten boys, married to her best friend of 10 years, newly minted college graduate, and working mama. She struggles with depression, anxiety, faith, motherhood, and pretty much life in general.

Photo credit: Pexels from Pixabay.com