I Had a Miscarriage, It’s Heartbreaking

It’s hard to know what to do in these situations. It’s both mentally and physically draining, but on the outside it’s as if nothing has happened. I wanted to open up about this and share what we went through.

The few people who knew we miscarried, and had been down the same unfortunate road we were going down, have shared painfully similar stories with me, which I have greatly appreciated, and also empathise with. I found their stories to be quite helpful. It helped knowing it’s not just me, it’s very common. One in four pregnancies in fact. It helped being able to talk through the details, the pain, and the mental impact it has on you.

The day we got back from our honeymoon at the start of February we decided, let’s give it a go! We weren’t fully jumping in, I wasn’t fussed on tracking ovulation, we just thought we would take it slow and see what happens. April 4th, I took a pregnancy test. It was a day before my period was due and I was just testing the waters really, to see if anything would show up. I had no symptoms except for being hungry all the time (but really, that’s no different for me). Nothing prompted me to think, “Hey, maybe I’m pregnant”. It was more just curiosity.

But low and behold, there was a faint line! A very, very faint line.

I showed Nathan and asked if I’m seeing things, hoping something is there when there probably isn’t. He saw the faint line too and we decided we’ll do a few more tests and go from there. Maybe it was a false positive?

I did another test, with another faint blue line.
Right, what does this mean? It’s so faint you can hardly see it!

We went to the shops and bought digital pregnancy tests. This would then tell us a definite yes or no. Usually you’re supposed to wait for the first wee of the day, as its more accurate, but I was impatient and decided I couldn’t wait.

Pregnant 1-2 it said.

Pregnant 1-2.

I was unsure at first, and terrified about now having this tiny little thing growing inside of me. But as the weeks went on and the more we spoke about it to each other and other people, the more excited I got.

According to the first day of my last period, we were still in very early stages. Looking at being around three-four weeks. But we told our families, a very select few of our friends and I told my workplace. Mainly so if ‘the worst were to happen’, I’d need the time off to work through it. But the worst wasn’t going to happen. Due to COVID-19, we could only tell family and select friends through messages or Face Time. We missed that face to face excitement, but they were all pretty excited still. We were pregnant!

My doctor appointments were all phone consults. I had a bit of a moment where it didn’t really feel real. Nothing was in person, everything was over the phone. I couldn’t see anyone and felt a bit alone because of this. But, we went with it. The COVID-19 pandemic just made things a bit harder. I had my blood and urine tests done to check everything was okay. Full bloods, checking thyroids, the works. The results of that came back all good and I was told we’d go through it with my doctor after my dating scan.

I started feeling symptoms like breast tenderness and a tiny bit of nausea in the morning. I also got exhausted a lot easier, like running up the stairs at work. I was puffing a fair bit once I got to the top.

27th of April we had our first dating scan. I was a bit nervous, as this was the first real thing we had that would set everything into place. How far along we were, first face to face appointment, and by this stage we would be seven weeks. So I had my fingers crossed we could start seeing a heartbeat.

We started our session with an external ultrasound and saw a sac. Not quite what I was expecting, but our sonographer was very reassuring, insisting it can be quite common to have the dates wrong and that we measured at more five weeks than seven.

But it was time for an transvaginal ultrasound to just have a bit more of a closer look. They wanted to rule out the possibility of an ectopic pregnancy, and also see what my ovaries were up to while they were there. Apparently I ovulated from the left.

This is where I started thinking something wasn’t right. As much as we were being reassured not to panic, it could just be earlier than we thought, my gut was telling me something was wrong. We were given a copy of the ultrasound and went on our way home.

I cried on the way home. Something felt off.

Nathan was quite good at reassuring me that it might just be too early. He was pretty excited to see the words “Fetuses present: 1”. Twins are in my family so we were a little nervous about that.

I had another phone appointment with my doctor the next day, 28th of April. I could tell in her tone something was wrong. While my bloods came back okay, she was worried she couldn’t see a yolk or embryo in the pregnancy sac. She was very much preparing me for a miscarriage. She explained everything to me, referred me for two blood tests to check my hCG levels, and another ultrasound 10 days after the dating scan. I was also told that if I start feeling any sharp pains, to head straight to emergency. We apparently still hadn’t ruled out an Ectopic Pregnancy.

I can’t fault her at all in how she helped me. As much as I was a bit of a mess on the phone, she was constantly reassuring me that if this were a miscarriage, there is literally nothing I could have done to cause it. This wasn’t my fault, and to not blame myself for this. She explained this can happen to one in four pregnancies, so it was pretty common. Just not a lot of people spoke about it. I had known only a few people to have gone through a miscarriage, I just didn’t think it would happen to me. You never do though, do you?

As soon as we ended the call, I broke.

I broke down crying so much so that my two dogs quite literally jumped up from their beds and ran over to my sides. They both wanted to get as close as possible to me because they knew I wasn’t okay. I called Nathan and he came home from work to be with me. I spoke to my girlfriends who knew and to my mum and sisters. I needed reassurance, I needed to not panic, but I also needed answers.

I had that whole week off work, and worked from home where I could. I just couldn’t be around people. I couldn’t put on a smile and pretend everything was okay when it wasn’t. I wasn’t. I woke up the next day with involuntary tears rolling down my cheeks. I wasn’t sobbing like the previous day, I just couldn’t control the tears. Could I grieve for this? Technically everything might still be okay, there’s no definite answer right now.

I had two blood tests that same week, and booked in my next scan for the 8th of May. When you start going through this process, a lot of people start talking to you about their own miscarriages, and how common it is. You hear a lot of one in four, and what happens when you miscarry. But no one explains what you go through in the meantime. All of the tests, the uncertainty, the mental anguish and the little spurts of hope. Maybe this will be okay? Maybe we are too early to tell. It’s our first pregnancy. It’s not supposed to be this hard.

My hCG levels were increasing, but not as much as the Drs would like to see. I was referred for two more blood tests so we could keep an eye on my levels. Rising levels were a good sign, although it was not by much. But we still needed my scan to confirm. I was told again, that if I started feeling sharp pains to head straight to emergency. But a little bit of me had hope that maybe this was okay. Maybe the little one was just playing tricks on us, and they’d grow up to be that kid that drives us crazy, right from the start.

I like knowing what my body is doing, and I must admit I Google way too much and never usually take anything as gospel. But I needed to know what to expect. I Googled the process of a miscarriage, and read stories other women had shared about their experience. More often than not it was hCG levels lowering, rising very slightly, or staying stagnant. I read about the pain some people have had to go through. Labouring out their miscarriage, the contractions, the bleeding, and how soon it will all be over. Some of these stories had similar timelines to my own pregnancy. I braced for what might be coming.

I started bleeding on the 3rd of May. Just brown spotting, but enough to make me think “this is it”. I curled up with a blanket in front of the wood heater and cried. Nathan came home to comfort me again, and we just sat there. His arm around me, while I just sat there crying. This was it.

Was this it? I had no pains apart from standard menstrual cramps. Nothing more than what a heat pack and some Panadol can help with. With accompanying lower back pain.
The next day I was bleeding more. Bright red, more frequent, and starting to pass clots. Again, nothing out of the norm from a normal period. And no real pains but some minor cramping.

I had another phone consult on the Wednesday 5th of May. My hCG levels were still increasing, and more so now than they originally were. What was going on? I explained I had started bleeding, and we once again, spoke about this being a potential miscarriage. Questions were asked like how big the clots were, how much bleeding, what level of pain I was in, but it was all just so similar to what a normal period for me was usually like. Just longer. We also spoke about the very real fact it could be ectopic, and may have been too early to tell on my last scan. By this stage I was able to start getting my head around the fact that I have miscarried. I was okay. I had ups and downs but I was okay. I passed more clots, with heavier bleeding throughout the week.

We went to our next scan on the 8th of May, still bleeding. We had an external and transvaginal ultrasound, and a bit more of a thorough look at my fallopian tubes and ovaries. The sonographer was sympathetic with us and asked if our doctor had gone through what this scan might mean. I explained that we essentially knew we miscarried, although it hadn’t been officially confirmed yet, and that we were mainly seeing if I had passed the sac or not. The pregnancy sac was still there. Same size, nothing had changed. Still sitting there. Far out, I hadn’t passed it yet.

Saturday the 9th my doctor called me to go over my results. Right, we’re officially calling it a miscarriage now. We went through the next steps, which was the very real possibility that I might need a D&C to help clear the rest of the miscarriage through. My doctor was passing all of my scans, tests and results onto the Early Pregnancy Clinic, and I should expect a call from them on the Monday, or Tuesday morning at the latest to see where we go from here.

This was now two weeks since our dating scan. I was now in the mindset that I was just done, and needed to start moving forward. I researched D&Cs, the process and recovery, and I was okay with this option if it was needed. My bleeding started to slow, and I was back to spotting. I only needed to wear a liner now with very little blood reaching it.

I got a call around midday on Monday the 11th of May. I spoke to a lady about my medical history, confirmed this was our first pregnancy, and that yes, that it was planned. She was being sympathetic with me and explained that, although I’ve started bleeding, the time it has been since my first ultrasound and now, combined with the majority of my bleeding being before my second scan, meant that I now need medical intervention. I had a couple of options to choose from. One was a tablet I took to force my body to pass the pregnancy. It would essentially force you to start contractions, and can be quite painful with quite a lot of bleeding. There was also no definite on if it would only be for a few days, or a few weeks. I would then need check-ups to see if I had passed everything after all of that. The other option was a D&C. Faster with removing the pregnancy, faster recovery, and would also be a bit faster with trying to conceive again.

I decided the D&C was our best option. I was booked in to have this procedure on the 15th of May. By the 14th of May I had stopped bleeding, and on the 15th I had stopped to the point that I didn’t even need to wear a liner. After almost 2 weeks of bleeding it had finally stopped. My sister volunteered to drive me to and from the hospital for my procedure which I greatly appreciated. The 15th of May is her birthday. She moved things around, got our sister in law and to babysit her daughter last minute, and took me to the hospital on her birthday. I bought her a cake for that morning.

I fasted from 10am as instructed and arrived at the hospital for an 11:30 appointment.
Due to COVID-19, my sister couldn’t come any further than the waiting room. I was okay though. I was looking forward to this whole saga being closed. To having the procedure and being able to start moving forward. They called my name and I was walked through to admissions.

The nurses were lovely. I couldn’t fault anything they did. They were caring, they sympathised, I had a lot of “I’m sorry for your loss” with a hand on my knee or shoulder. The caring nature starting bringing down my wall I put up to get through all of this. We went through the usual blood pressure, weight, height, history, would I like booties to take home with a remembrance certificate.. wait what?

I wasn’t quite sure what they just asked me then, so I asked what they meant by booties. Apparently a group of wonderful volunteers knit tiny little beanies, and tiny little booties for this hospital, so that women who go through miscarriages can take something home to remember. To symbolise the small, short life this fetus once had. You don’t have to take them, but the gesture took me by surprise and I cried.

I took a tiny little white beanie with a tiny little pair of pink booties inside it. I chose pink because I ovulated from the left, and very old-outdated wives tale states that it could have been a girl. The nurses made up a remembrance certificate for me which states “Certificate of Remembrance: In Memory of Breanna & Nathan’s baby who was miscarried. Date 15.05.20”.

Holy Crap keep it together Bree. That was just so sweet.

I was also handed information on bereavement counselling through the Red Nose-Grief and Loss. I’m not one to be silent on mental illness, so I thought this was such a great thing they were doing. Everyone struggles differently, and having the option to speak to a counsellor about losing something that was once so precious to you, and the confusing process you go through. I thought that was fantastic.

I was given a gown and a bath robe to wear for the day. Nothing underneath (except I kept my dorky socks on because it was a wee bit chilly). I was first cab off the rank so I was told my wait time wouldn’t be too long. They were right. By the time I went in at 11:30, got through the process of admissions, and seating in chair one where the lounges were, it was almost 12:15. The procedure started at 1:30. Really not much time to wait at all.

The nurses came around an handed me a few pills to take in preparation of the procedure. Panadol with a tiny bit of water, a tablet to help with nausea (this one went under the tongue), and 2 dissolvable tablets to help dilate the cervix. These two were the most awkward ones to get in. They had to sit right at the back/sides of your mouth where the saliva glands are. They partly pre-dissolve them for you too, so I had a little chalky mess around my mouth while I was trying to, very awkwardly, get these damn tablets in the right spot.

A doctor came around and spoke to me about the procedure, the risks involved, the process, and if I had any concerns or questions. I knew what to expect (thanks to preparing myself with Google) so I signed the consent form and waited for my turn.

Not long after that, I was taken to where my bed would be after the procedure. This is where all my belongings were locked up, and where I needed to take my warm dorky socks off. We walked to the pre-theatre holding, and I was shown what bed to lay down on, given a couple of warm blankets, and told it wouldn’t be long before someone comes out to go through the anaesthetic questions. I waited, for a while. The nurse in that area had a bit of small talk with me and kept reassuring me it shouldn’t be too much longer. I was taken into this area around 1:30pm, pretty much right on schedule.

The anaesthetic nurse came out to confirm a few details, ask about previous surgery history, and to insert a cannula into my hand so they can give me the anaesthetic and send me to sleep. Turns out I have very cold hands, because they couldn’t quite access my vein and had to warm up my arm so they could access the vein in my elbow. In it went and I waited for them to take me through.

The anaesthetic doctor came out and asked me a few questions, repeating the nurses questions (they ask you the same questions a fair bit actually). He was concerned because my hCG levels were still increasing on my last test, and wanted to push my surgery back to later so they could do a blood test and check my levels first. “There’s a chance you could still be pregnant” were the words he used. While inside my head I’m screaming “But I miscarried! I’ve bled for 2 weeks, my scans showed no growth, my pregnancy symptoms are gone, I miscarried!” I understood they needed to check though, and I was happy to comply with them. They just needed to double check.

I had my blood taken again, and was wheeled back to my spot in post op. The nurses came over to ask what was happening and I explained that I was heading back in later, and we just needed to check my hCG levels first.

I waited.

Around 3pm I had my doctor and a gynaecologist doctor come over to my bedside. They started off with saying they have “sort of good news and bad news”.

My hCG levels were still increasing (the sort of good news). They had gone from low 3000 to high 5000. Usually this points to a pregnancy still growing. I needed another ultrasound and another blood test. Even though my scans didn’t change, they explained we could be looking at a pseudocyst instead of a pregnancy sac (the bad news). So basically, there was a chance my body still had a growing pregnancy somewhere, called a “pregnancy of unknown location”, and my body had created a pseudocyst because it believes something should be growing in the womb. The other chance was that it was ectopic and somewhere in my fallopian tubes, even though we couldn’t see it on the ultrasound. There was also a chance that it was just a missed miscarriage.

So no procedure. I got as far as theatre holding, and no procedure.

A nurse came over after the doctors had left and asked me what was happening. I tried explaining to her and just broke. It had been nearly 3 weeks since my initial dating scan, and had felt like months. I had so many tests, now to have a 3rd scan, and this was only our first pregnancy. I cried. I apologised for crying but I was just to the point of disappointment when it didn’t go through. I could not fault anything they did that day. The nurses were wonderful and so supportive. The doctors were doing their job and not rushing into something, if they didn’t fully know what was going on.

I was trying to be strong. But I was just over it. So very over it.

They gave me something to eat and a cup of tea. They took the cannula out and let me take my time in getting changed. I had to wait for the doctor to come back round before they released me. The doctor was apologetic, and let me know my scan would be on Monday the 18th, and to get a blood test that same day.

My sister came to pick me up not long after, this was around 4:30pm now. She gave me a hug and I just started crying. What was a light at the end of the tunnel became just another hurdle to jump over.

As I got home, Nathan gave me a much needed hug while I was trying to explain what happened. I needed the toilet so bad so I paused the conversation and made my way to the bathroom. As I sat down and relaxed, a gush of blood came out. It was the strangest thing I have ever felt, and I didn’t think I could have much more blood in me. But it gushed out like it had just been holding on all the way home. A wee promptly followed. From then I started bleeding again. (Remember, I had taken pills to help dilate my cervix in preparation for the D&C).

The weekend passed and I tried Googling again to see if anyone else had been through this. If anyone else was so close to the D&C, and was sent away with the chance of still being pregnant. If anyone else had bled so much, if anything resembled what I’ve been going through. A few stories were close, but I couldn’t find any that jumped out at me as the same. I couldn’t find any stories that had such a jump in hCG levels, and still resulted in a miscarriage.

On Saturday I was still bleeding, and started passing clots again. Far out. I thought I was done. On Sunday morning I passed what I thought was the sac. The clot was a bit different to the rest of the clots I had passed. It was a bit rounder, a bit more dense and I actually felt this one as it came out. A wave of relief came over me. Please let this be the end of it. I stopped bleeding for the rest of the day. I was so hopefully this would all be over.

Monday came around, and I decided to sleep in. I had taken the day as another sick day. I went to the loo and found I had started spotting again. I received a phone call at 9:30am from a private number. A lady introduced herself as a Gynaecologist Doctor, taking care of my case. It was a quick phone call, but she explained to me that I may need surgery after my ultrasound that day, and that I need to start fasting from 10am. No food or water. If they found an ectopic pregnancy then they would need to remove it straight away basically. She said she would call me at 4 or 4:30 after my scan and let me know the results from there.

I don’t think I have ever made toast and a tea so fast in my life.

I smashed down some toast and had ¾ cup of tea before 10am hit. At this stage I was originally driving myself to the hospital, as it was just going to be a scan and a blood test. But now there was a chance of surgery I didn’t know what to do. I was panicking. Everything was happening so fast and I still had no idea what was going on with my body.

Nathan was able to come home from work early and take me down. Again, due to COVID-19, no one was allowed to come in with me. Not even to the waiting room this time. So we drove back down to the hospital and he waited in the car.

At 3pm I had my scan done. It looked exactly the same as my previous two scans. And the sac was still there. Damn. I hadn’t passed it. I went through the whole process again with the sonographers and they took me around to the pathology area for my blood test. After poking me 3 times with the needle in my right arm, he moved to the left arm (poor left arm) and poked twice before finding my vein. Remember I had to fast right? I had nothing in me.

I left very confused, not knowing what was happening and if I could leave. I got to the car and started crying again. I was just so over it. Nathan took me to my sister’s house so we were a bit closer to the hospital if we needed to return. Our house was about 30-40 minutes away, so we thought we would stay close, just in case.

Around 5pm I got the call saying we didn’t need to return today, and to return the next day. So the 19th May. Nothing new on my scan yet, however my bloods showed my hCG levels had started decreasing. Yes! Finally! I was back down to just over 3500. I now needed a suction & curette, which is apparently slightly different to the dilate & curette I originally went in for. I wasn’t booked in for a set time, but they wanted me to fast from midnight, get to the hospital at 8:30am, and hope an emergency spot opens up for my procedure. There was a chance I could be waiting at the hospital and not have the procedure done.

I felt so deflated. I fasted, I panicked, I waited. I was so deflated. We got a burger on the way home and I ate about a day and a half’s worth of calories in one sitting. (Turns out, not such a great idea).

19th of May came around. I drove my car to my sister’s house, and she drove me to the hospital again. Nervously, I walked in and explained to the receptionist that I don’t have an appointment, but I was told to come down and wait for a spot to open up. I gave them my name and she instantly knew what I was talking about. “Oh great!” I thought. Maybe I don’t have to wait too long after all. The lady asked me to take a seat while she confirmed what was happening, as a few people were confused with the whole process apparently. I wasn’t the only one.

A few minutes later she told me they were in fact admitting me. Hooray! It wasn’t long before I was taken back through the admission doors and followed the same procedure I went through on Friday. Again, the staff, nurses, and doctors were lovely. And I could not fault them for anything. One of the nurses recognised me from Friday and we spoke about how I needed to come back and go through it all again.

Again I had a gown, bathrobe, better socks and hospital disposable underwear on (as I was still bleeding from starting again Friday night). Again I was taken to the lounges to wait. I was prepared this time and bought a book and charger, just in case.

By the time I was in the day procedure lounge area, it would have been around 8:45am. I waited for my turn to come around, and did a mixture of reading my book and catching up on socials to pass the time.

Around 9:30am I had a couple of doctors come up to me to talk about my procedure. They explained to me that I had a couple of options that day. I could have the suction done, and have any tissue they find tested for a pregnancy. If the test comes back showing no pregnancy, then I would need to come back on a separate day for a keyhole procedure. This would be to find the pregnancy and remove it. They explained to me that if they do find an ectopic pregnancy in my fallopian tube, then they will have to remove the tube. They explained that there is still a high chance that the sac in my uterus could be a pseudocyst, and that the pregnancy could be elsewhere because of what my levels were doing. Apparently, what my body was doing didn’t quite fit into any “textbook scenarios” and caused quite a lot of confusion between the doctors who were taking care of me. The second option they gave me was to wait it out and to see what my body does. So that meant both options gave me the risk of potentially needing to come back for another procedure.

I decided to go ahead with the suction. And if I needed to come back, then I needed to come back. But at least I would have answers. It was now over 3 weeks since my initial scan. I needed answers. And I needed it done. I was just mentally and physically over it.

They put me on the list and explained that they would try and get me in earlier, due to how long I have had to fast for, but it would most likely be the afternoon when I go in. I understood. Everyone else around me had a booking, a set time for their own procedure. I was the one they were trying to squeeze in for that day. I was happy to wait as long as they needed, as long as I got the suction done.

I signed the consent form, aware of all risks involved, including the potential of coming back for keyhole surgery, and waited.

A nurse came round at 12:30pm and gave me some Panadol in preparation for my procedure. I had someone approach me nearly every hour to say that hopefully I don’t need to wait too long, and they’ll see if they can get me in earlier. I had hopes that I was going in soon if they had given me the Panadol. Last time it was a pretty quick process after that.

Around 1pm a nurse came round and said she was going to get me onto a drip, as I had had to fast for so long, and that my body would be pretty dry by now. I felt perfectly fine, but also was okay to do whatever they needed to.1:30pm rolled around and a lovely nurse came over to insert the cannula, and attach the IV. I still felt fine by this stage.

Usually I’m okay with needles. I don’t love them, I always look away when having any test or vaccination done, but I don’t faint or go light headed. I was apparently warmer that day, as they were able to find the vein in my hand, but my body was very dry. The lady inserted the cannula, I did my thing and looked away, while wiggling my toes. It was a bit painful but I was okay. She nervously asked me if I was feeling okay, and then I realised I was actually light headed, but could power through. She asked me again, “You sure you’re feeling okay?” and all I remember is saying, “Actually it’s getting a bit worse now” before feeling incredibly sweaty, clammy, and having 2 other nurses, so now 3 in total, surrounding me, yelling my name, asking me if I knew where I was, if I had ever had a seizure before etc. It took me a second to realise it was me they were yelling at, and all I could think was, “Answer them!”

“Breanna can you hear me? Do you know where you are?”
“Have you had any seizures before?”
“No, what happened? Was I out?” I started coming to at this stage and could actually string a few words together.

Now that I had realised what happened, oh boy was I embarrassed! I had apparently had a Vasovagal syncope, so essentially, I just fainted when they put the needle in. My bad. The nurse who admitted me told me I scared them for a minute there. I was a bit more dehydrated than I thought. Although fasting for 2 days straight with one meal in the middle may not have helped. They kept checking in every now and then after that and apologising about the wait. I was totally fine with waiting but I did scare them, and the IV fluid did actually make me feel a lot better. Then 4pm rolls around and they get the call to cart me off to theatre holding.

Yes!!! It’s happening!! I didn’t think I would be so glad about something so heartbreaking. Even the nurses were glad I was finally going through.

I waiting in theatre holding for about an hour before the anaesthetic doctors came out and started going through the whole process again. By about 5pm they wheeled me into theatre and I met the kind team who stayed back after their shift should have finished, to make sure my procedure was completed. Not long after that I was out.

I woke up around 6:15pm, and thanked the nurses who were taking care of me. It was done. The doctor came to my bedside and was very confident the sac they found was indeed a pregnancy sac. I felt so, finalised. I had a mixture of emotions rolling through me. I was upset that we lost this pregnancy, I was relieved the surgery went ahead, I was tired from the anaesthesia, and I was grateful they squeezed me in. I was inside the light at the end of the tunnel now.

In recovery I ended up being a bit sick form the anaesthesia. I joked with Nathan and the nurses that for such a routine procedure, I made it so dramatic. The long wait, the fainting, the vomiting. I promised them when they took the cannula out that I wouldn’t faint on them again. The procedure was done. I got home around 8:30pm and went straight to bed.

Writing this the next day, I feel okay. I feel emotionally raw, physically a bit tender, and I still have a small amount of bleeding and cramping which is normal. I still need to wait for my results to come back but I’m confident this saga is over now.

I never knew 3 weeks could feel so long.

For anyone who has gone through a similar situation, I really, truly am so sorry. It’s a horrible, heart breaking feeling. Sometimes it can feel like no one quite understands, and that’s okay. But I understand now. And there will most likely be people around you, close to you, who also understand. They just might not have shared their story yet, or might not ever.

“In remembrance of Breanna and Nathan’s baby, who was miscarried 15-05-20”