My Miscarriage Story ; Recovering & Coping.

I have never seen myself to be a maternal type of woman. I knew I was more of a tomboy during my formative years and even growing up I didn’t play with dolls like most girls did. I didn’t create make-believe doll families nor did I play pretend at being a mommy.

In my early twenties, I would look at my scrawny figure and would often laugh at my lack of ‘child-bearing hips’ they often mentioned and portrayed on television. I didn’t fall into the typical African woman body stereotype which often made me insecure. Basically, I wasn’t listing how many kids I would have one day or what their names would be.

So imagine my surprise when I got pregnant during the first year of marriage. Unexpected it was. I sat still on the toilet seat looking incredulous at the two lines on the pee stick. A mixture of trepidation and excitement all bungled together flipped through my stomach. I could get pregnant ! Amazing!

The early stages of pregnancy soon set in. I was constantly tired, sleeping at odd hours during the day and eating twice my usual portions.

Since I had never been pregnant , this was all new to me.

Hubby had travelled for some few weeks and I was home as usual working remotely for some clients. I was in my 8th week. I had dinner as usual and went to bed early. The cramps started in the middle of the night like menstrual cramps and the low abdominal pain woke me up from my sleep. For some reason or due to watching movie scenes where pregnant women saw blood spots on their nighties and white bedsheets; I flipped back the cover sheets to find a small circle of blood on the sheets. My heart was in my mouth and a low keening sound came out of me because somewhere within my heart I knew what it was. I was shaking like a leaf. It was 3am and I was alone. Who was I going to call and what ambulance was going to reach me in the middle of Frafraha? I called my gynaecologist several times to no avail. He must be sleeping I thought to myself. Hubby couldn’t be reached either. I was really alone and scared out of my wits. I tried to sleep through the pain and dozed in and out until it was 5am. The cramps hadn’t abated and the spotting was increasing so I used a pad. I went to wake up my neighbour in the next apartment who thankfully was already up. Gina assured me that all will be well. I felt a bit better.

I couldn’t take a shower but I managed to drive myself to the nearest SSNIT clinic in Adenta to hopefully see a gynaecologist as I was still unable to reach mine. I waited till 8am only to be told by someone that the gynaecologist comes on specific days in the week and that day wasn't one of them. By now I had called my Mom who immediately sounded distraught and tried in her own way to calm me down. The wooden bench at the clinic was the only thing my body could count on for support. I was almost in tears.

I finally reach my gynaecologist around 9am and he asked me to come by his office. Then another long wait because he had a flat tire on his way. Hubby finally called back and I told him what was going on. The gynaecologist arrived about 10am and an ultrasound scan revealed that the baby was okay but my oestrogen levels had slightly reduced. I was prescribed some drugs and asked to come back the next day. I was hopeful.

I was truly exhausted and drove back home praying whilst driving. The bleeding didn’t stop.

The next day I went for another scan and the doctor said the baby couldn’t latch on. I had lost it. I think for my whole life I have tried to put on a brave face in the face of bad news. Like when I drove my step-dad who had collapsed at home to the Achimota hospital and then I drove back home which was in West Legon to lock the doors only to come back and be told by the nurse that he had passed. Or the time when I was refused a visa to study at the University of Connecticut despite having a scholarship. Also that time when my father blatantly told me to my face that he didn’t have money to pay my hostel fees after I gained admission to the University of Ghana. A brave face has always been a cover to hide my pain and disappointment. I had that same look when I slowly walked out of his office. Hubby couldn’t believe it when I called to tell him. My Mom was also shocked and sad.

The tears couldn’t come but they were there in the silence of my car as I drove home with a life I would never come to see , feel or know. I had been given some meds to ‘clear’ the foetus out.

Physical Effects

The physical effects afterwards wrecked me. Days of watching the remnants of a life seep out of me took a toll on me. I was constantly in a pad and I noticed the gradual reduction of the pregnancy symptoms. It took about 3-4 weeks for fetal and placental tissue to come out of me. That was painful to see.

Mental Effects

I remember asking myself so many questions, “ what did I do wrong?” “ Did I overwork or not eat the right things?” I asked God several questions in prayer. Then the negative thoughts started creeping in one thought at a time, “I’m a failure” “ I wasn’t worthy of a child” “It’s my fault”. I refused to go anywhere and stayed holed in the house as my place of safety. I didn’t want to go to church. I lost my appetite and was nauseous all the time from the drugs that had to expel the fetal tissue.

Coping Through a Miscarriage

Nothing prepares you for a miscarriage and coping through one for me was more a mental decision to self-affirm myself and trust God again. I later discovered that several of my Aunties had also gone through their own personal miscarriages in their early years of trying for a child. They strengthened me to assure me that it will get easier. And it did get easier. I had such deep sad moments where I would wonder how the baby would have looked like. I took a break from work activities. I found myself drawing closer to God in prayer which I believe healed me mentally from those negative thoughts. Jeremiah 29:11 was my staunch prayer point. I later shared the news to a few friends who knew I was pregnant and they were supportive in their own way.

Recovering From A Miscarriage.

My body resumed ‘normal’ menstrual operations after about a month and half. The doctor assured me that I would get a safer healthy pregnancy after this whenever I was ready to start again. I told him I wasn’t ready at all. My body had to recover physically and emotionally.

Miscarriage at any stage of pregnancy is traumatic for any woman. Some people downplay a woman’s emotions and pain during a miscarriage and it’s truly regrettable most especially when the lack of empathy is from another woman.

People are super insensitive to couples who they deem should have a baby within their first year of marriage by asking all kinds of unsolicited intrusive questions. Why do you want to live someone’s life? What so interests you in when someone should start a family and how many they should have? It’s absurd and unloving.

I look at my daughter today and marvel at God's grace and mercies for such a precious gift and a second chance to experience his blessing. Sometimes I do wonder how my first would have been like. ☺️. I've been through it and trusted the Lord through it all.

It’s 1:31am and sleep beckons me. I hope my post will help anyone who’s going through this same storm; it gets easier. The pain will fade away one day. Your mourning will turn to dancing. Love and super light to you!