The “Miscarriage”

I just stared in shock.

I felt surprisingly numb.

How could this be? The pregnancy test was negative.

But there it was – a little white sack.

I had run to the public toilet, at the park, thinking that I had passed a huge blood clot (not unusual for me) but instead I was staring at, what I assumed to be, fetal tissue.

A few weeks ago I had received the dreaded phone call.

“Can I confirm your name and date of birth?” the nurse asked, her voice catching in her throat.

Before I even gave my details I knew the answer.

The worse part was, it wasn’t just any nurse delivering this news – it was a close friend that had recently started working at the IVF clinic. I could tell it took all of her strength to keep from crying.

“I am so sorry hun, your pregnancy test was negative.”

I gulped. I wanted to vomit, and yet I had expected it.

“That’s ok,” I lied, “I had a feeling it wasn’t going to work.”

I was trying my hardest to hold it together, as I could tell she was about to burst into tears at work.

“Thank you so much for all your support,” I said genuinely and hung up the phone. My fingers went numb and I stared bleakly out the window.

Here we go again.

Time to call my husband and tell him the bad news.

This was getting old.

The next few weeks were a blur of emotion. As usual, I didn’t start my period right away. My hormones wreaked havoc on my mind and body as I waited several weeks for the bleeding to begin.

Now here I was, in a public toilet, staring blankly at a little white sack.

With medical interest I picked up the sack – it felt exactly like membranes (being a midwife I frequently assess placentas and the membranes).

For a long time I just sat there, confused.

“Is this what a miscarriage feels like?” I thought with curiosity.

This was my third failed cycle and the physical and emotional pain was so intense each time that, to me, it felt like a miscarriage, though, ironically, it is NOT perceived this way by the general public.

People would shrug casually if they found out that I had experienced three failed IVF cycles and yet if they found out that someone had had a miscarriage they would immediately show empathy and sorrow – acknowledging the loss.

I was always astounded by the response, and am still not sure if it is due to innocent ignorance or awkward discomfort. Either way, it NEEDS to change.

I had always wondered how I would feel if I had a miscarriage; I thought perhaps it might bring me hope – hope that I could get pregnant after all.

I continued to stare at the little white sack.

Nope.

No hope.

It felt the same as all my other cycles – just desperate sadness and grief.

I was so angry with myself for getting my hopes up, and angry with God for giving me false hope with “the sign” I had received in December.

With a flat affect I wrapped the little sack in toilet paper and flushed it down the toilet.