Miscarried August 2011
July 7th, 2010, I took a pregnancy test after having tried for a baby for seven months at that point. I was both shocked and overjoyed when a second pink line showed up for the first time ever. We were pregnant!!!
I was unable to get into my doctor right away to confirm the pregnancy because it was a short week due to the 4th of July holiday, and my husband and I were leaving on Friday to visit family. I scheduled an appointment for July 19th and we were off. We shared our happy news with his parents, my family, and my very best friend. We basked in the joy of picking out names we liked, planning which of our extra rooms would become the nursery and lightheartedly bickering over whether we wanted a boy or a girl. July 19th came and my pregnancy was confirmed. I was pronounced to be 6 weeks along with a due date of March 14th. I bought “What To Expect When You’re Expecting” and more planning ensued.
On July 26th, I began to have some spotting. I called my doctor the next morning and was told that this is actually quite common in early pregnancy, and if it got worse or if I started to cramp to call them back. I called them back two days later with stronger spotting and was scheduled for an ultrasound on July 30th. I was unable to get the ultrasound at my doctor’s office because their ultrasound machine was broken, so we went to the hospital where we were seen by a technician. She completed the ultrasound and told us that while she couldn’t give us any results, she had seen a heartbeat.The night of August 3rd, I went to the bathroom and discovered I was now bleeding steadily and passing clots. Terrified, I called my doctor’s office and was patched immediately to the on-call physician. She told me that unless I was bleeding heavier or cramping, there was no reason to go to the hospital, but that I should call the office in the morning and make an appointment with my doctor. When I called that Wednesday morning, I was told that my ultrasound had come back showing a totally healthy baby, though they had pushed my due date back four days to March 18th. My family was thrilled, maybe we would have a St. Patrick’s baby! My doctor decided to send me in for another ultrasound, and unfortunately their machine was still broken, I’d have to go back to the hospital. They called me in an appointment for the next day.

That Thursday, August 5th, we showed up to the hospital at 1:30 p.m. as directed, and went into the room. The technician didn’t speak (they aren’t allowed to tell us anything), and when she was finished she told me to get dressed and that she would be right back. She was gone for 20 terrifying minutes. The entire time, I kept telling my husband that I knew something was wrong – it was taking too long. He tried to reassure me that maybe she was just printing pictures or having the radiologist look over it. A timid knock sounded at the door and the technician appeared. She said, “I have your doctor’s office on the phone.” I knew. My heart dropped and the tears started. When I got on the phone, it was my doctor’s nurse. She stated, “They aren’t allowed to give you any results there, why don’t you come on into the office and we’ll talk?” Inconsolable, my husband and I left the hospital and made the short drive to the doctor’s office.

When we were brought back, the nurse told us that they were no longer able to find the heartbeat. We had lost our precious baby. Our hearts breaking, we were given all the options that were available to us to determine how to expel the fetus. We were promised that my doctor (who was in a surgery) would call me the next morning to answer any questions that we might have.

That night I made several heart wrenching calls, the words never getting any easier. Friday morning, we woke up, my doctor called, and we made the decision how to expel the fetus. I took Misoprostol, which causes the uterus to contract and detach anything inside. The process was painful, though not unbearable, physically. Emotionally, the weekend was truly the worst of my life.

I mourned the loss of this child’s future, and I never even knew if I was carrying a boy or a girl. It’s sad to think that no matter how many children I go on to have, I’ll always have one more pregnancy than children. I did end up having a healthy baby boy 16 months after the miscarriage and it comforts me to know that he’ll always have an older sibling angel watching over him, but to this day, there are still moments where I mourn the loss of the future for that child.

I still find each day too short for all the thoughts I want to think, all the walks I want to take, all the books I want to read and all the friends I want to see.  ~John Burroughs

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...


  1. Krista,

    Thank you for sharing your story. My heart goes out to you, having experienced the same loss. You never really forgot that little life, may he or she watch over your son and your family.


Show Your Support


© 2011 Faces of Loss, Faces of Hope | PO Box 26131 | Minneapolis, MN 55426 | Contact Us