What No One Will Tell You About Pregnancy After Miscarriage

The day I found out I was pregnant again, I was filled with both the joy and excitement of possibility, and the overwhelming fear of losing my baby – again. Last June, I had a miscarriage. For no “good” reason – just because. It was one of the darkest, most devastating times in my life, and I was terrified it was going to happen again.

Miscarriages usually happen at no fault of the mother. My midwife said that most miscarriages are a result of chromosomal abnormalities – in many cases the baby is not developing normally and would likely not make it full term. Sometimes, she said, this is a blessing. While the commonality of miscarriage, and the realization that it is likely a blessing in disguise brings a little solace, it did not make coping with my loss any easier. The months preceding the miscarriage were a mix of being with my feelings, and desperately wanting to escape them.

Looking back it was a beautiful opportunity for growth and equanimity – but it was, and continues to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. As my yoga teacher David Robson would say, “Equanimity can only be found in fucked up places.” Well, he’s right.

My fear of miscarriage was palpable in the first few months of my pregnancy.

I didn’t want to get my hopes up again. And I sure as hell didn’t want to tell anyone. Not because I was going to hide it if I had another miscarriage. Believe me, my close friends and family would hear about it – let’s be honest I’m a bit of an open book. But because I didn’t want to jinx it. I was so afraid of losing this baby too. Everyday it was like I carried this immeasurable weight around. The weight of a previous miscarriage, and the perpetual voice in my head saying, “I hope we don’t lose this one too.”

So while, yes I was so excited, and grateful to be pregnant once again, what almost immediately swept in, and overtook my joy – was fear. Fear felt like it was always present. And not just in the background. Nope. Fear was hanging out in the front, in the drivers seat, affecting pretty much everything I did.

I stopped practicing yoga. I became obsessed with what I ate – god forbid I eat something on the list of things that could potentially cause a miscarriage. I Googled every tea, spice, food and drink that I should avoid while pregnant. I Googled every twinge of discomfort I felt in my body. One anxiety ridden google search leading to the next, I would convince myself I had every rare pregnancy condition there was.

Every trip to the washroom was agony

I remember looking down fearfully at the toilet bowl each time I went, praying I wouldn’t see any drops of blood. I was extra careful not to push to hard when pooping so as not to inadvertently push my baby out.

Then there were the dreams. Almost every week a terrifying miscarriage dream. Dreams that felt so real I would wake up in a sweat and a panic, thinking that it really happened.

I felt like I couldn’t escape my own anxiety

Then, at about 7 weeks pregnant, my husband and I went on our honeymoon to Thailand. We had planned it long before we found out I was pregnant. I was a little nervous, but we went nonetheless.

I was hot, nauseous and uncomfortable for most of the trip. Southeast Asia really isn’t where you wanna be when you’re an anxiety ridden preggo in your first trimester. Not to mention that a few years ago, Thailand had a Zika outbreak, and I convinced myself the entire time that I was going to contract Zika. And yes, I googled all the symptoms, and devastating outcomes for baby and me.

Anyways…

The first few days in Thailand we were in Bangkok

I was trying to be a trooper. We were in  so we ventured out into the city to see some of the sights. The guy who owned the hotel we stayed in set us up in a Tuk Tuk (auto rickshaw) and explained to the gentleman where to take us. The trouble is, Tuk Tuk drivers typically work in large groups, as a part of a scam. So needless to say, we ended up at a random dock in the middle of no where, where we were advised that the best way to get to where we needed to go was to take a boat. We were skeptical. But we were in a foreign country, had no idea where we were, and we just wanted to see the sights.

So fine, we paid a ton of money to get on this boat. It may as well have had a jack hammer for an engine, because that’s what it felt like. I was already anxious about getting on the boat to begin with, but I didn’t think we had another option.

As we sped down the river, all I could think about was the doctor I had seen telling me, “Absolutely do not do anything that is bumpy, or jerky. The baby is really vulnerable and it could result in a miscarriage! Be really careful!” My midwife now would probably like to have a few words with this doctor, who’s pregnancy advice is rather outdated. But 8-week pregnant Mel had nothing to go on but the words of that doctor. And his words rang in my ears on that boat.

I thought I was going to lose the baby

At some point during the boat ride, I started to feel cramping. I began to panic. The words of that doctor felt like daggers in my heart. My mind was racing. All I could conjure up were images of my tiny baby being shaken inside me. I convinced myself I was giving it brain damage – which is funny looking back – but at the time it was very real. I couldn’t find a position to sit or stand in that didn’t give me cramps. My eyes welled up with tears, as I waited for us to dock so I could get off. I felt the horrible burden of guilt as I stood on that boat. I had a bad feeling before we got on, but I didn’t do anything.

I looked at my husband, and he saw the fear and pain on my face. I was choking back tears as I tried to tell the driver I wanted to get off. But it took my husband sternly telling her, before she got the message.

When we finally got off the boat and I almost had a panic attack

I broke down into full on tears, crying uncontrollably in the streets of Bangkok. I tried to tell my husband that I thought I was going to lose the baby, but he was certain I was being overly anxious. He kept reassuring me that everything was going to be ok, but I wasn’t listening. I remember being so angry at him. Why wasn’t he agreeing with me? How could he not understand the severity of the situation – how could he be so insensitive? Did he not feel what that boat felt like? Eventually I calmed down, but the penetrating fear of “what if” tugged on my heartstrings.

I made my husband call his sister and ask her to arrange for an ultrasound when we were in India. I couldn’t wait until we got back to Canada to find out if everything was ok with the baby. Sure enough, when we got the ultrasound, everything was fine. They detected a strong heartbeat, and baby was and continues to be OK.

I had no idea that pregnancy after miscarriage could be so difficult

While this may not be the experience of everyone who has gone through a pregnancy after miscarriage, for me, it has been a constant battle with my anxious mind. I wish I could tell you that the fear of losing my baby has gone away over time. That I’ve conquered my fears, and am going through each day with confidence. But the truth is it hasn’t gotten much easier. The truth is I still worry, and hope and pray that everything is going to be ok. I still feel the deep ache of worry every time I feel something abnormal. I notice my mind perpetually revert to the worst case scenario. My nightmares of miscarrying, have simply transformed into nightmares about pre-term labour, or that my baby’s heart has suddenly stopped beating.

So, no – the fear hasn’t gone, but i’m learning that it’s ok. I’m learning every day to notice it and allow it to be there. I’m learning to acknowledge my fear as a part of my pregnancy journey, and not judge it.

It is OK to be afraid. It is OK to be fearful. It is OK to feel however you feel on your journey, because it is yours and yours alone.

I’m learning to lean into the fear. To acknowledge that fear isn’t the truth; It isn’t absolute. It’s fleeting. Impermanent.

I’m learning that fear probably isn’t going anywhere, and thats’s ok. All there is to do is notice the fear with as much equanimity as you can muster, and keep on going.

So this is my practice. Noticing, allowing, and continuing on in spite of my fears.

To my amazing friend and midwife Cynthia who so patiently answers my anxious questions, reassures me, has banned me from google, and helps me feel at peace – I will never be able to fully express my love for you in words. I am forever grateful, and I could not have done this without you.