I experienced a late-term miscarriage.
The loss of our son was a devastating and terrifying event. At 18-weeks of being pregnant, I was told I must deliver my child, but that he would certainly not make it.
Here I share my story with you.
A little over a month ago I was 17-weeks pregnant. I was healthy, growing, and knee-deep in morning sickness. My doctor appointments confirmed I had an active baby boy. I announced to my family I was having a baby and was beginning the process of buying baby gear and clothes. My 3-year-old daughter was getting excited for her baby brother. My husband and I were over the moon excited to have a son.
A few days later, after finding out that we would be having a boy, I also found out that my placenta had formed unusually low.
My doctor said it would not pose any threats, aside from needing extra ultrasounds. He advised me to lay low for a few days. I had experienced a couple of bleeds due to some blood clots, but every time I was checked, all looked good. One morning, at the end of 17-weeks of pregnancy, I woke up with a high fever and severe cramping. I knew something was off. I made a doctor appointment and canceled my trip to see my family.
I won’t go into all the details, but essentially I was transferred from my doctor’s office to a perinatal ultrasound specialist at the hospital, who then informed me that I was having a miscarriage. I thought I had the flu or some cold, but I had actually gone into pre-term labor due to an infection in my uterus.
The moment I was told my son wouldn’t make it, I immediately burst into tears. My husband was at home with my daughter. I felt so alone. So scared. The doctor had to inform him of the situation over the phone. I couldn’t even talk to him or explain anything.
I felt like I couldn’t even breathe.
I was then transferred to the labor and delivery floor, where I was told the unthinkable: I would have to deliver my son, who would die in the process. My mind couldn’t fathom the horror. I was angry, sad, and holding out hope that somehow, some way, I could have a healthy baby boy.
Moment by moment, I pushed through it, only with the help of my husband and the amazing medical team. My awesome husband showed me pictures of my daughter on his phone, which was the only thing that calmed me down. I was on a roller coaster of sadness and I couldn’t get off. I had to ride it all the way, for everyone in my life I loved.
I did it. I delivered my son. He didn’t make it, just as I had been told would happen. We got to hold him, take pictures of him, and name him Dominic. He was more perfect at 18-weeks than I could have ever imagined.
Losing a child through miscarriage was one of the saddest experiences I have ever faced and my life has been changed forever.
Our family will always remember Dominic. We have a box of his memories and pictures that will always remind us of how amazing he was. We pray for him on a regular basis and my daughter loves to display her “keepsake” memories of him on her bed. Our marriage is stronger than it ever has been. I admit I took my husband for granted prior to this tragedy. Even my faith has grown stronger. While I have very hard days and experience moments of intense sadness, my life perspective has changed. I feel like my priorities have been set a bit more straight.
I was tremendously touched by the sincere support from the hospital, who treated our loss with so much dignity. My gratitude for my husband and daughter has grown exponentially and they are the reason I get out of bed every day. My heart was comforted by the many friends and family who reached out to us.
My reason for writing this post is not to scare women out there who are expecting a child. Rather, it is to share my story with those who have lost a child, whether through a miscarriage, stillborn, or any other type of loss. My heart goes out to you if you have experienced this loss. I think often of the strength of other mothers out there who have overcome this loss and continue to press on in life.