The thing nobody talks about.
Tags: Support, Pregancy, Miscarriage, Pregnancy Loss, Grief And Loss

We were so excited to tell everyone this week. Okay fine, we spilled the beans to about forty of our closest family and friends, but this was the week we were going to go announce it to the world! My Andrew and I were thrilled to have a BABY this August, a little baby in my belly we both rubbed and coo’ed and sang to every day. We were going to be first time parents, and it never felt so right. We are so in love and this would be the most amazing next step in our life together. Scary, but we embraced it.

Back in December because of COVID, I had to get the primary ultrasound alone to determine how many weeks along I was. They let me Facetime Andrew during the scan and that was when we found out I was already eight weeks pregnant, the tech announced, pointing out a little fluttering dot on the screen, a very strong and healthy tiny heartbeat. It felt like a miracle, that a heartbeat, a real being, existed inside of me when before there was nothing. Our hearts swelled with joy and excitement, it was really happening! We nicknamed our little baby ‘Little baby’.

I did everything I was supposed to do, took prenatal vitamins, bought the What to Expect When You’re Expecting book, downloaded The Bump app, got a little journal to document the experience and to share with Little baby someday. I started pinning nursery decor ideas and longingly looked at baby clothes that were a little too soon to buy. I told Ole he was going to have a little sibling to play with, but he didn’t really understand. We were going to fill our new little home with a family!

Being pregnant during COVID was awesome. I immediately stopped drinking and no one noticed. I wore comfy sweats every day and no one noticed. I took nap breaks when I was tired in between Zoom meetings and…no one noticed. My symptoms weren’t extreme either, some nausea and constant fatigue but I was still able to get myself on that Peloton and ate full meals (except for onions, I could not stand the smell of onions). I become obsessed with textures and warmth, like wearing my plush robe for as much of the day as possible, then my Comfy, then wrapped around in throw blankets. I was so happy to be holding a little secret inside of me, a little bean that we already loved so much.

Of course I wanted to tell everyone right away, but I read up on the likelihood of miscarriage, which was astoundingly common. About one in every four pregnancies ended in miscarriage, but the chances plummeted to about 10–15% after eight weeks, down to 5% after ten weeks, and almost down to 2% by the time you reach twelve weeks. But if something did happen, we figured we would have a support network. Just theoretically. So when ten weeks started rolling around, Andrew and I started to burst. We LOVE sharing good news, and this was the best news ever. A Leo baby! They cheered. It’s going to be the cutest!!! They gushed. Welcome to parenthood!! Our friends with babies jumped with joy. We cautioned everyone that it was still a bit early, but we just wanted to believe, to celebrate.

Then the unthinkable happened.

At week Twelve, I had taken the morning off work to go to my first official OB appointment. Andrew kissed me on my way out, so excited to see an ultrasound of how Little baby had grown! But an hour later, the ultrasound room was quiet as the tech asked me when the last time I had an ultrasound done, and how many weeks I was supposed to be as she kept on moving the wand around my slightly rounded belly. I Facetimed Andrew right away so we could see the updated pictures of the Little baby together, but the tech put the wand down and said, “I’m sorry. I couldn’t find a heartbeat.” Andrew’s eyes welled up and I couldn’t hold on to the phone anymore, as the reality sank in that Little baby wasn’t happening after all.

Even knowing how common it was, and how we had done nothing wrong and nothing could have prevented this from happening, and how it wouldn’t affect us having kids in the future, I had never sobbed so hard in public before. The pain was unbelievable, it was crippling. It was worse than any break up, it was a loss I had never experienced before, I felt completely helpless. We had wanted this baby, we were so ready for this baby, we already loved this little baby Hughes and now it was gone.

The doctor and nurse came in, both very compassionate and sat with me as I cried and got some blood drawn to double check for pregnancy hormones etc. I learned about options on what I could do next, and decided to do a D&C procedure. They were able to schedule me in for the next day, and even though I winced at the thought of missing another day of work, this was probably more important. My bosses (yes when you work at Nike you have more than one) as women and as wonderful souls, immediately told me to take as much time off as I needed, even on my last week.

Andrew took the next day off too, and held my hand the entire time until I was rolled into the surgery room. I had to change into this hideous purple gown and we waited for hours, with nurses coming in and out to draw more blood, poking IVs into me, having me swallow painkillers and valium to prepare for them to suck out what was left of our Little baby. Neither one of us cried in that room, but it was one of the saddest days of our lives. The operation went smoothly, I don’t need to get into the details but now I’m back home, resting with a heating pad. Andrew and I take turns holding each other, promising ourselves that this isn’t how things will end.

I like to think of Little baby as a soul, that it’s still floating around out there and just decided that it didn’t want to be born yet. Maybe, Andrew suggested, it didn’t like it’s ‘outfit’, maybe it had too many freckles or wanted to be taller, or maybe it felt like having a winter or spring birthday instead so that it could have parties with it’s classmates. We’ll never know the reason, but we’ll miss Little baby until it chooses to return.

Maybe tragedy brings us closer together. Grief is a part of life, and just knowing that I don’t have to face it alone anymore is a gift. That afternoon, we updated our family and friends and by that evening our doorstep was filled with groceries, flowers, candles and books. It was hard to text everyone we had already told, but what we got in return was unbelievable love and support. No one blamed us for doing anything wrong, no one downplayed our heartbreak. Our community had completely wrapped their arms around us tight as Andrew and I held each other, completely devastated but loved. We don’t regret telling people that we were expecting and lost our baby, in fact we’re so glad we did. I don’t think enough people talk about it, and I can’t imagine pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.

And I think even if you’re reading this and you have no idea what to say, you don’t need to say anything at all! Just sharing our story is enough for us, and knowing that we are surrounded by people that care, by people that are rooting for us, and that someday when we do finally have Little baby, knowing a whole village will be there to celebrate with us…knowing that is enough.