After three years, multiple IVF cycles, two devastating miscarriages, and countless setbacks … Aela’s road to motherhood has been anything but easy. Follow her story on Babble and don’t miss the latest chapter in her journey below.
I think one of the cruelest parts of miscarrying is the continued pregnancy symptoms that persist even after you’ve lost your baby.
I remember when I miscarried the twins at 17 weeks, by milk came in a couple of days later — Christmas morning — and it was such a slap in the face. There I was with fully engorged breasts, and no babies to feed.
My most recent miscarriage was earlier, at 10+ weeks, so I knew I wouldn’t have to worry about milk. But I wasn’t really prepared for my pregnancy symptoms to linger for as long as they have.
Nearly two weeks after my loss, I’m just now seeing things come back to “normal.” Luckily, my nausea went away within two days. But my food aversions stuck around for awhile, my frequent peeing didn’t go away as quickly as I thought it would, and — overall — my whole stomach is still pretty out of whack, mainly with gas and slower digestion.
Who knows if being highly emotional is still from the pregnancy hormones, or if it’s from heartache? It’s likely a mixture of both.
I suppose it makes sense, since my body is still filled with pregnancy hormones. But it sucks. If I’m not pregnant anymore, I should be able to enjoy eggs in the morning and take a crap with ease. Those are things I was happily willing to sacrifice in order to carry my baby. But my baby is gone. Foods shouldn’t gross me out. My pregnancy headaches should be gone.
Of course, I realize none of this happens immediately. But it’s rude. And cruel. My baby is gone, but my body doesn’t seem to know it yet.
I’m also still bleeding, which might be the biggest “F-you.” It’s not nearly as heavy as it was, but it’s still daily.
“I’m going to make you bleed for weeks as a constant reminder that you are not pregnant, but I’m also going to hold on to some pregnancy symptoms too just because I’m a jerk.” — My body.
It’ll take time, I know. This is all just part of my body getting back to its pre-pregnancy self, I know. After all, I have been through this before and I know how it works. That’s a thought that both saddens me and brings me some bit of comfort — knowing that I’ll get through this. I wasn’t so sure of that with my first loss. Or even with our second loss.
But even with all the logic in the world being applied to the situation, it doesn’t make it one ounce easier.
My fourth baby is gone, and my body is playing pretend.More On