@eileen7316 Man, I’m so sorry. It’s unlike anything else and I’m going through it too. I’m just gonna piggy back on yours because I don’t want to make a new post, I just need to get this out there.
My wife was pregnant with our first up until this week. She noticed some spotting, I started the anxious scrambling of reasoning how this is common, it’s nothing to worry about, it’s brown so it’s old blood, all other signs indicate that the pregnancy is normal. I reassured her that we should worry if the bleeding became bright red and if she started cramping badly.
We woke up Monday and called the doctor to explain the spotting, they got us an appointment for the next afternoon. I moved the TV into our room and brought her food and water and chocolate in bed all day; I truly thought that we would be okay. She kind of timidly said “My cramps are getting real” and a few minutes later she got up to pee. All of the sudden the worst sound, it’ll haunt me, her voice was quavering and she said “Oh my god baby it’s happening, it’s happening” and I went in and saw so much blood and clots in the toilet. She wailed and screamed and our pets didn’t know what to do and we were a mess.
I thought for a little while that maybe still this was something else, a subchorionic hemorrhage or whatever other reassurance I had seen online the day before. I went into full denial mode. I was sure that the next day we would see a heartbeat at the doctor. Then she passed more blood, and the undeniable remnants of our hopes and excitement. We both knew without a doubt that she had miscarried.
This is such a weird grief, like I’ve had friends and family die and there’s something communal about it. My childhood best friend committed suicide a year and a half ago, and old friends got together at a bar and had drinks and laughed and cried and bonded and reminisced and shared the pain. With this, people are sad
for us, but I feel like only my wife and I can truly grieve. I think back to the day that she tested positive and I came home from work crying and we stayed up til 5 in the morning talking about everything imaginable, from me having to change the litter box while she’s pregnant to names to going to their sporting events to teaching them to drive, everything. We shared so much hope and excitement and love.
Friends and family are kind, they send their condolences and send food and offer an ear, or offer to take care of the pets so we can go away, but it’s really just the two of us acknowledging our loss that feels so real and so empty at the same time. Like we’re mourning the loss of an idea of a person whose name we hadn’t even settled on, whose likes and dislikes we won’t ever know.
It’s truly gut wrenching and isolating and everyone mentioning “next time” I know means well, but my wife and I can only truly mourn together. I wish you all the best in navigating this grief, and I hope that if there is a next time for either of us, it won’t end like this.