One Mom’s Story: Raechel on Pregnancy Loss
Raechel is a mom to three children including six year old boy twins and a four year old daughter. She started her career in Human Resources in 2010, but resigned to stay home with her children through the pandemic. In 2022 Raechel started her own pediatric sleep consulting business. She offers services to families who want to help improve their little ones sleep. This story was written by Raechel and edited and formatted by the Rooted Willow Community team. Be aware that this story contains descriptions of pregnancy loss and may be upsetting to some readers.
On New Year’s Eve 2021, my husband and I decided to start trying for our fourth child.
We have always wanted 4! Surviving the pandemic years had been tough and exhausting with three toddlers, and it was refreshing to finally feel like we were in a place to start adding again. So, we rang in 2022 excited to continue building our family.
In March I began having a nagging dull ache on the right side of my pelvis. My OBGYN didn’t seem concerned; she wanted to just give it time. I had gone off birth control in January, and it seemed like my body was adjusting well — except for this dull ache. I wanted to know what was going on, so I started testing for ovulation. I was ovulating, but I also started spotting, which was confusing. One night I was out at a restaurant and just started crying. My gut was telling me that something was off.
A few weeks later, there was a night where my husband was out, and I was home alone with our three children. All of a sudden, I started having a stabbing, shooting pain on the right side of my pelvis. That dull ache had quickly exploded into something unbearable. I remember rolling around on our bed, writhing in pain — but then the pain quickly subsided.
Later that night, though, I was brought to my knees in agonizing pain yet again. Looking in our children’s eyes, I could see that they were so scared. This distracted me from my pain and gave me strength to get up, because my mind was on them. I was able to serve them pizza for dinner but had to brace myself leaning over the counter. Then we watched a movie on the couch together before bed. I was just trying to breathe through the pain. I was up all night and barely slept.
By the next morning, the pain was a bit better. I was beginning to wonder if it was a kidney stone that had already passed.
I went to my primary care provider and told her what had happened. Since the pain had resolved, she thought I had a bladder issue and referred me to a urologist. But later that week, the pain returned, and then I started having lots of brown discharge with a strange odor. My PCP advised me to immediately take a pregnancy test and call my OBGYN.
The at-home pregnancy test came back positive. I cried with both excitement and fear; I was so happy I was pregnant, but I just knew something was very wrong. With Mother’s Day coming up, I was so excited to share the news that I was pregnant with my mom. But I hadn’t felt this way with my past pregnancies, and I could sense that this wouldn’t be a typical pregnancy announcement.
Later that day I attended a Mother’s Day tea at my son’s preschool. I was sweating and shaking, disheveled and feeling so scared. The dull ache persisted, too. It was extremely hard to be present and smile for the pictures because I was so wrapped up in what was happening inside of me. By Mother’s Day Sunday, I was completely drained of all energy. The picture of me and my kids on that Mother’s Day brings back so many emotions. I was being so strong, trying to hold myself together for everyone else. But inside, my body was literally holding on for dear life.
Eleven days after that night of sharp pain was the soonest I was able to get in for a sonogram.
I was sweating profusely because of the intensity of the pain during the exam. The ultrasound tech said it looked like I had a cyst that had ruptured, and she sent me on my way. I was confused. I was supposed to be pregnant, but there was nothing in my uterus. Was all of this really just a cyst?
My doctor called an hour later: I had an ectopic pregnancy and needed immediate surgery. We scheduled it for later that day. My mom came over to help, and I was an emotional wreck the entire day. I fell into her arms sobbing and spent what felt like an eternity sitting on my couch, just sobbing my eyes out. Between bouts of crying I watched my children playing outside. I thanked God for these beautiful, healthy, living children and prayed that I would one day be healthy enough to be a good mom for them.
When it was time to leave for the hospital, I had a blinding headache. At this point I wasn’t scared. I was horrified and devastated for the baby in my body.
Once I woke up from the anesthesia, the OBGYN explained that my fallopian tube had ruptured. When they opened me for surgery, my abdomen was full of blood. My doctor was shocked. Usually when a fallopian tube ruptures, she said, the patient is writhing in pain. I knew I was lucky to be alive. The recovery from the surgery was tough. It was very painful, and it was a full six weeks before I was back in action as a mom.
After I recovered from the ectopic surgery, we decided to take the summer off from trying to get pregnant.
I took time to process what had happened to me and my baby. And I learned a lot about grief. I was devastated for that poor baby in the tube that ruptured and felt so much sadness at what could have been. I look back now and recognize that I tried as hard as I could to hold onto that pregnancy. I wanted it with all my heart, soul, and mind, and I didn’t want to fail. After the experience, I felt really sad. I hadn’t taken care of myself or listened to my body. I’m still learning how to do a better job of paying attention to my needs instead of ignoring them and just pushing through.
Even through all of those emotions, I felt very hopeful. I still had my left fallopian tube, and I’d been talking with other moms who had gotten pregnant again after an ectopic pregnancy.
A few months later, after some trying, I got a positive pregnancy test. We were so excited! We started monitoring things closely right away to make sure I wasn’t having another ectopic pregnancy. The bloodwork was looking great. We started making plans, rearranged some summer travel, and shared the news with our closest family. I knew we weren’t in the clear yet, but I wanted to stay optimistic. My husband echoed my feelings. He was so happy and hopeful.
At my six week sonogram, the tech could only see the gestational sac — but it was in the uterus! I wasn’t too worried. It was still early. Because I was high risk, I transferred care to Hopkins and had another sonogram two weeks later.
The sonographer was looking for what felt like hours. She could still only see a gestational sac.
I took a break and went to the bathroom and just wailed. I cried so hard. I was so confused and so angry that I thought about screaming at the tech and running out of the building. My reflex was to blame everyone for what was happening to me — but there was no explanation. I just couldn’t believe this was happening.
When I came back from the bathroom, the doctor got right to the point: the pregnancy was not developing normally. But I had options. I could wait before choosing to do anything, and that’s what I wanted. I felt really good. My bloodwork was still great, my boobs hurt, and I was nauseous and having my typical food aversions. I was clearly pregnant.
I prayed so hard for God to help me be comfortable in the waiting. And I was! For about three weeks I truly just believed, hoped, and trusted God to handle this, whatever the outcome. I still felt really good, and I hadn’t had any cramping or spotting.
Then one day, the nausea and food aversions just disappeared. Then my boobs started to hurt less and less.
I was eating a salad, then suddenly realized that eating a salad was not normal for me in the first trimester. But surely there had to be a baby in there by now! I was almost 12 weeks pregnant. I thought maybe the first trimester symptoms were just coming to a close. Surely, my body would have recognized by now if something was wrong.
I went back for another sonogram. Again, there was just a gestational sac. It was getting smaller. Christmas was coming up, so I scheduled a D&C for after the holidays.
The next day, I started spotting. The spotting got heavier each day. On Christmas Eve I had intense, sharp pain and passed a small clot that I thought that was the miscarriage. My family was going to church for the Christmas Eve service, so I put on a big sweater and a huge pad. I was actively bleeding and bloated and looked pregnant, but nobody except for my family knew what was going on. I put a smile on my face and focused on my children. It was Christmas, and I wanted to share in their excitement.
After the church service, we attended dinner at a family member’s home. Over dinner, my youngest sister announced that she was pregnant. I knew it was normal for me to have mixed emotions, but I was blindsided in the moment and didn’t know how to process it. I got up from the table, hugged her, and gathered my family to go home.
On Christmas Day, I felt better. Luckily I had done a lot of prep work ahead of time so present were wrapped, food was ready to cook, and we could relax. I was very tired, but I was present. It was a good day.
The day after Christmas, I woke up contracting and passing grapefruit-sized clots. I miscarried for the next five days.
Day six was my D&C. After the procedure, my OB explained that she had needed to remove a lot of tissue. She questioned whether I had passed anything at all. I reminded her that I had, for days, been passing large clots. It’s amazing how much is inside a woman’s body to prepare for pregnancy, even without a fetus. My healing from the D&C wasn’t uncomplicated, and I ended up needing antibiotics two weeks later.
Recovering from the ectopic pregnancy earlier in the year had been extremely emotional. I had cried a lot from the physical and emotional pain. Recovering from the blighted ovum, though, felt the opposite. I didn’t cry at all. I didn’t allow myself to. I didn’t even want to look at myself in the mirror. I told myself that God was done with me, that I didn’t deserve to grieve this time — there wasn’t even a baby. It was just tissue. Women miscarry all the time. I wasn’t special. I was fine.
My faith really wavered at this time. The Bible tells us that God wants us to be fruitful and multiply. So why wasn’t he allowing this for me? What was he putting me through so much pain? I put all my focus into starting my business. I thought maybe what God wanted for me was to find purpose in my new career path — to help other families instead of continuing to build mine.
Through both of my pregnancies my faith had been so strong, but after the miscarriage I started to ignore God.
I stopped praying constantly, which was hard for me to do. I was used to praying a lot throughout the day. I was angry and stubborn because I was hurting, but I wasn’t ready or willing to deal with any form of grief. I didn’t think I deserved to.
This caught up with me quickly. I was exhausted. Finally I did a pregnancy loss session with a doula, and that allowed me to open up room for my grief. With space to grieve, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. Now when I’m feeling sad, short-tempered, or overwhelmed, I remember that I am still grieving. I had two first-trimester losses in less than a year and nothing to show for it except for physical and emotional scars.
I’m also learning to accept that I won’t ever truly be the same after this. My body and mind have been through a rollercoaster, and I’ve changed as a person and as a mother.
On Mother’s Day this year, all of the emotions and grief came back to me like a freight train. The smallest things made me cry, and I started having thoughts of self-harm. It completely blindsided me. I didn’t expect this to happen at all, and I didn’t know how to deal with it. I tried explaining it to my husband and a close friend. Letting them know about what was going on inside my head helped me feel less alone in my grief.
Now I’m starting to feel like I’m ready to figure out what’s next for me.
My pregnancy losses have changed the way I think. I always imagined they were incredibly hard, but now I truly realize how all-consuming this grief can be. It permeates your thoughts all day; it’s constant and draining. But I also know now that pregnancy loss just picks and chooses; it doesn’t matter who you are or what stage of life you’re in. Every situation is unique, and so is each woman’s perception of their experience. Women experience loss in so many different ways.
I carry this confusing, odd feeling of being “incomplete” and “forgotten,” and I’m learning how to sit with it. I do still feel alone in a lot of this emotion, but what has helped me stay afloat is reading other womens’ stories and connecting with shared emotions. Sharing our stories is so unbelievably important. It saves lives.
Does your birth experience feel extremely heavy, raw, or unresolved? Do you frequently experience intrusive or negative thoughts about your birth? Contact us. We can help.
