*Disclaimer: this may get a wee bit graphic, but if you’re a miscarriage survivor, you get it, and if you’re a voracious, widely read reader, you’re likely desensitized to it #AmIRight 🤪
As you may know, last Friday, I was relieved beyond measure to find out that I had not miscarried two days prior; my baby had a strong heartbeat, and apparently, the bleeding and clots and cramping were due to a quite common, usually unthreatening subchorionic hematoma, which is “the accumulation of blood between the uterine lining and the chorion (the outer fetal membrane, next to the uterus) or under the placenta itself” (Whattoexpect.com).
I was told rather nonchalantly that hematoma was large but that all I needed to do was “take it easy” with “pelvic rest” and lots of fluids while it resolved itself over time. My husband, (Doctor) Ben, made sure I did very little except rest and eat and drink, determined as I’ve ever seen him to help me heal and recover as quickly as possible. I thought everything was going smoothly until…
Around 2 p.m. on Monday, three days after my diagnosis, I came down with severe, teeth-chattering chills, nausea, and the kind of lightheadedness that brings you to your knees, all of which culminated in a fever and an E.R. trip. I was certain this was related to excessive blood loss and that our baby, if not myself, was in jeopardy…
But after a three-hour visit at the E.R., it was determined that the hematoma had shrunk significantly, baby’s heartbeat* was still strong, and that my fever was likely due to a urinary tract infection, as there was a “small amount” of bacteria in my urine. I was prescribed a pregnancy-safe antibiotic and sent on my merry way, which was genuinely merry because, yet again, I’d received promising news.
The next day was better. I still felt like I’d been swung around by the Hulk, but at least I wasn’t uncontrollably shaking and managed a few bites of food. I slept A LOT, and continued to hope that the bleeding would be over soon.
Then Wednesday afternoon came around, and this is where it gets graphic, folks. I got up after napping and felt something huge and slimy slide out of me. It was a blood clot nearly the size of my palm. 
Over the next hour, smaller, quarter-sized clots were expelled, and intense menstrual-like cramps had me fearing the worst. At around 4 p.m., I lost the baby, and by 6 I was being prescribed Cytotec by my OB to help my uterus pass the “products of conception.” ( I had terms like that…)
So, friends… It’s been one heckuva roller coaster, not only physically and emotionally, but also mentally as I, naturally, try to retrace and reflect and analyze in an effort to understand what went wrong.
My midwife and OB both told me there was no correlation between the miscarriage and the hematoma or supposed infection. “Most early losses are due to chromosomal abnormalities in the baby,” my doctor said.
But still, something in me wonders if my so-called UTI (which didn’t carry the usual UTI symptoms) was really something else, something my body was fighting and that ultimately harmed our baby, causing its tiny heart to stop.
I don’t know. And maybe I’ll never know, and that’s okay. I think we find we have far more questions in life than answers, and what keeps me at peace with that often frustrating fact is the Lord my God, who is my “very present help in trouble,” my good Shepherd, my Wonder Counselor, my Prince of Peace.
He never promised an easy, pain-free life for any of us, only that He would never leave us or forsake us, as He never left Daniel in the lion’s den. Or Joseph in the pit and Pharaoh’s prison. Or Elijah beneath the Juniper tree. Or Ruth in Boaz’s fields. Or barren Hannah who wept in the Tabernacle, praying to God to bless and open her womb (which he did!).
Alrighty, this has gone on too long and I’m supposed to be packing for a trip to see my family, but just know, if you’re going through or have gone through a loss, you are NOT ALONE. Don’t hesitate to reach out to others, because there is nothing more detrimental to our healing process, I believe, than trying to heal in isolation. We were made for community. Made to support and be supported. Reach out to me, if you’d like. I’m here, ready and eager to pray and listen.
For those who may have insight as to what might have happened with my pregnancy, please DM me. As a writer, I’m a naturally curious individual, and can’t help but dig around for clues, as they may assist us with any future pregnancies the Lord has for us.
Have a wonderful day, my friends. We are all so blessed, and no matter what struggles we’re up against, there is always so much to give thanks for, and always some One to turn to.
Diana 🦋
*On the Wednesday I was diagnosed with the SCH, the baby’s heart rate was 120, and just two days later, it was 166. Seems like quite a jump to me, but again, no professional I spoke to seemed concerned. 🤷♀️