This is written by our Dancing for Birth instructor, Ellen Huffmyer. She is a doula, childbirth educator, mom and a friend of mine. Here, she shares her story of miscarriage and loss. This is an important subject that often lives in the shadows of our hearts. Ellen is brave in her openness to share her story with all of us. For more about Ellen, please visit her website. ~Deena
I have four children, the oldest of which, just graduated from high school. This is many years ago now, between child two and three. This may be something that happened to you, maybe you don’t have any experience. In any case, I wanted to share, as it is not something we talk about every day. I want to tell you about my miscarriages. As such, if this note is not your cup of tea, I understand. This is for those who need to/ want to hear it.
Miscarriage number one. I was, first of all, not pregnant, to my knowledge, and not trying to be pregnant. I had attended a work training on Friday and Saturday, and started into my period, although the timing was a bit off. I figured that I had been pulled into someone else’s cycle, by spending the weekend with a bunch of women.
On Sunday morning I work up feeling terrible. I had extreme pain- in my throat. I took about 800 mg of Ibuprofen and went to bed for about three hours. Twice. This is not like me- I don’t take a lot of medication- but it was necessary. This may have been my first clue that something was amiss, but it certainly sounded like no miscarriage I had ever heard, and, of course, I wasn’t thinking about pregnancy, in this case.
Monday morning, I woke up with pain. This felt very much like labor pain, but, that couldn’t be right… I went through an entire labor in the space of about ten minutes. I yelled for my husband , but, he was out for a run at the time. My labor culminated with me expelling the birth contents in the toilet. This was a tadpole, complete with an egg sack around it, about the size of a fifty cent piece. If I had a guess, perhaps a ten week old fetus, although I had not missed any periods. I am ashamed to say that what happened next was that I flushed the toilet. I was in shock.
I continued to have bit of pain , but my greater problem was that I was never as sick as I was in those days following. I called my midwives, and while they were comfortable with me staying home, I was very fearful, because of how sick I was. My best guess is that the baby had passed sometime earlier, and I became so toxic that my body expelled it. It may have been the other way around, that I was toxic , and, in that, the baby could not survive. We’ll never know, on this side of heaven, I guess.
I went to see the midwives; the pregnancy test was negative. They did not feel I needed any further intervention, and I went home. My problem was, I wasn’t OK, I was extremely sick. I called my mother and she rushed over, from another state. We were a pair! My mom had gotten a stomach flu, and was trying to take care of me, who was … Toxic.
Because I was sick, and needed some pretty serious help, I started taking to people about the miscarriage. It was an odd situation to be in. I needed to tell them about the miscarriage, accept, in some cases their sympathy, and also fend off stupid comments. I had the problem of being extremely sick, and not sure of myself as far as the pregnancy was concerned. Did it really happen? I have a very vivid memory of my son’s preschool graduation, and a little boy who wasn’t too happy with me, something I had said. He turned around and reamed me out, as only a four year old can. I remember thinking that I was barely maintaining vertical, much less having to listen to this. And, even though I was not expecting this, I began to realize that I would need to do some emotional healing as time went on.
We had always wanted more children. While this was not in our plans for, perhaps, another year or so, the feeling was, what are we saving it for? My husband and I decided to go ahead and live our lives, to start thinking about a third child. Thus, we waited the prescribed three months and started to try in earnest to have a baby.
Miscarriage number two. In the middle of the summer, I missed a period. I was late, and I began to wonder. However, I had two previous babies, and this didn’t feel like a pregnancy, not, at least, all the time. I went to see my doctor for an unrelated event, but asked for a pregnancy test when there. It was negative. Talk about your mixed emotions! Still, I had vacation to get ready for, and maybe this was not the time…
Several days after I had expected my period, it had still not come. This coincided with the first day of family vacation, the one with all the grandparents, aunts, uncles , cousins… etc. My husband encouraged/ insisted that I take another test, only this time it was positive. Faintly. My husband also said that I could not not tell my family. I didn’t particularly agree with him, but, told anyway.
Fast forward ten days. I basically came home from vacation, only to turn around and go to middle school camp, as a counselor. I swam, I stayed up late, I rode the zip line, and I cautiously told a couple of people my news. The day I was to go home, I started to bleed. I was hysterical, in the middle of camp with a bunch of middle school kids, about two hours from home. Let me tell you, I do not recommend driving home from Ligoneer, by yourself, in labor, but that is what I did.
For me, processing my first miscarriage was challenging. It really didn’t have a category, and I had no idea what to do with it. When I had a second miscarriage, within three months, my world went upside down for a while- about six months- before I figured out how to come to grips. This was not a pretty process, and did not come without lots of furious tears, and prayers. I wasn’t even raw, so much as I was numb. Then came raw. Then peace.
Here’s the happy ending. I did process, and heal, with the help of a book, “Our Stories of Miscarriage”. This book didn’t have any how to’s, guess what? There is no how to. I have two separate ornaments on my Christmas tree, very different. My children know about the babies, and from time to time, I have to help them process their grief as well. I have spoken at conferences about this subject, and I do feel that I have gone through and reached the other side, where I am healed. My story is for you. In reaching out and talking about a taboo subject, I hope to shed some light on some dark places. If this post is not for you, it’s OK. If this post touches your heart, it is because it was written in order to help, in the way that I experienced help.
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