Seven miscarriages, and no idea why
Four weeks ago my husband and I had our seventh miscarriage. We have been married for six years and have one beautiful 3-year-old. At this point I do not believe we will ever know why we continue to experience these reccurring losses.
Each miscarriage has been different. Our first pregnancy ended a few months after we married. We were only a few weeks pregnant. I knew many pregnancies ended this way; friends had experienced similar situations. But positivity was still with us - it was good to know we could get pregnant.
The second miscarriage came six months after we were married. On holiday with friends, my husband and I excitedly told them over dinner. They shared in our joy and then a few days later, our pain too as we lost a baby at ten weeks. One night I had period-like pains and it suddenly was all was over, flushed away. The small remains we saved were buried in my parent’s garden under the kowhai tree. I only felt annoyed that we’d told our friends so early.
Another six months later and another two pink lines showed up. Pregnancy number three ended a few weeks later. This time I went to see a herbalist who discovered my thyroid was not great and I tested positive for antibodies, which possibly explained why I was miscarrying.
My husband and I were learning not to tell other people about our pregnancies. We knew we’d possibly only have to ‘untell’ them.
Half a year later we kept our next pregnancy secret. I had light bleeding throughout but remained pregnant until one day I had period pains and heavier bleeding. A few hours later we found ourselves in the bathroom holding the perfect body of a little 12-week-old baby. All fingers and toes were there, the tiny ribs showing though the delicate skin. I remember being quite fascinated at the perfectness of the baby.
I cried on and off for about two days. I ended up in hospital as I felt faint from blood loss. I was monitored overnight and offered a D&C procedure to remove tissue from the uterus, which I declined. Placenta previa (in which the placenta covers the cervix) was suspected. I began to produce milk and used cabbage leaves to dry my supply up.
After this miscarriage I began to feel a hint of anger. Come on now, this was our fourth loss. Not fair. This baby was buried under a rose bush.
Our fifth miscarriage was the hardest. By this time I was attending the hospital’s miscarriage clinic. They found I was short on progesterone so I took that with each subsequent pregnancy. Feeling pretty rubbish from constant bleeding, I ended up in hospital again. A large hernia was discovered along with complete placenta previa. I was placed on IV and had a blood transfusion. I went into labour and had a little boy at 16 weeks.
This time I cried a lot. I felt so sorry for this small helpless baby who had just wanted to survive. The hospital staff were wonderful, taking photos of his tiny body and returning him to me in a beautiful handmade box.
He was buried overlooking the mountains. I gave myself a good week or so to mourn and then moved on. No use crying over spilt milk. The cabbage leaves took care of that again.
Pregnant again and at 23 weeks we finally told a whole lot of people. This time we went full-term without issue. A lovely peaceful homebirth was planned and that’s exactly what happened.
My husband and I were keen to have another baby but for the first time we found ourselves in another situation. We just couldn’t get pregnant. During this time I often got angry, especially towards God. Over a year later two faint lines showed up. They were faint for a reason. We were pregnant but it was a blighted ovum. Still classed as a miscarriage, but at least we could get pregnant.
Fast forward to mid-2017. By now I had had two surgeries, tried many pills, read a lot of books, applied for adoption or permanent care, and was trying the autoimmune paleo/protocol (AIP) lifestyle. Then we finally fell pregnant again. This time there were no signs of bleeding or cramping.
At nearly thirteen weeks we slowly began to tell people. Then one night we were at a party. I went to the bathroom only to find I was heavily bleeding. That night we saw our number seven go to heaven. After a day or two of feeling sorry for myself, it was time to move on again. For some reason, this time I have not felt angry. I am hopeful that we’ll still get pregnant again. I’ve also made a decision that if by the end of the year we are not pregnant, it’s time for me to let all of this go.
Throughout all of these losses I have always been more than open and honest with others about my miscarriages. Most people are shocked and even embarrassed. I find many people then share their own hidden miscarriage stories. My husband and I named each one of our little ones and find that this has helped us move on. Our relationship has only become stronger though all of this.
- Stuff Nation