The pain of miscarriage and infertility

I know this doesn’t exactly fall under my bipolar theme, but it does fit a bit. I did end up hospitalized for depression partially due to the loss of my baby and the thought that I would never have a child after 4 years of failed attempts.I found out Alex no longer had a heartbeat 6 years ago today. This was supposed to be our miracle after an earlier pregnancy loss and unexplained infertility. I was alone and I still remember the ultrasound and the nurses. The nurse using the doppler told me not to worry, that it was hard to pick up heartbeats at 12 weeks. The nurse got me into an ultrasound room pretty quickly and I could see that the baby wasn’t moving. The ultrasound tech didn’t say anything, at all. I said I know something is wrong and the ultrasound tech told me she was having trouble finding a heartbeat, but would get the doctor. The doctor confirmed that the baby had no heartbeat and I just cried and cried and cried. I remember the hugs from the doctors and nurses and the way they tried to reassure me by saying it was really common. For me, it didn’t help since it was my second miscarriage AND we had been going through infertility. It just felt like a what did I do wrong to make this happen, again.


I was alone for the appointment which means that I drove myself to said appointment. I was a wreck and, unfortunately, I had no means home other than to drive my car. The doctor and nurse were kind enough to allow me to remain in an exam room while I calmed myself. The doctor also gathered paperwork and discussed options for me to pass the baby since my body hadn’t realized that the baby had died. I was carrying around a dead baby. There is medication to move things along, but I was afraid of it happening while I was alone. Another option was to wait it out and let my body do it naturally and the final option was a D&C. I chose the D&C which was scheduled for nearly a week out from my last appointment. At that point, the baby hadn’t been alive in likely 2+ weeks. The doctor thought there was a good possibility that the baby would be passed naturally because of the time frame. It didn’t go down like that.

On the 17th, I arrived at the hospital for my D&C. The resident anesthesiologist was rough with me and hurt me trying to put the IV in. The attending was kind and asked me the typical questions that you would ask someone having an abortion, which I wasn’t. His first was how far along are you and when I responded I don’t know he told me to be as close as possible. I explained that I was supposed to be 13 weeks, but the baby stopped growing around 11. He took the stuff away from the resident and finished putting the IV in and explaining what would happen in terms of anesthesia.

I remember waking up after the D&C surrounded by doctors and nurses. There had been hemorrhaging. The doctors had difficulty stopping the bleeding during the procedure. I felt like I couldn’t even miscarry properly and I felt as though I had to explain to everyone why I had the procedure done. I ended up in the hospital overnight and out of work for 3 weeks due to the blood loss. They actually asked my husband if he wanted to speak to a social worker. These complications were not what I had in mind. It made me feel as though my body couldn’t care for a baby properly and that there was something wrong with me. I felt like I failed my husband and that I was a defective woman because I couldn’t have children. I felt like my husband deserved so much better and I didn’t understand why the two of us were being punished so harshly. I could not comprehend this loss and I definitely didn’t understand why it was so difficult both physically and emotionally. It just kept dragging on. It wasn’t just over.


I became so depressed that eventually I ended up in the hospital for suicidal ideation. It was a turning point for me. I learned the best way for me to handle it. I had caring providers. There was always a tool or someone to help when it got bad and my medication was adjusted. These all resulted in rapid results where I went from not being able to get off the couch suicidal to a semi-normal level of functioning.


Then, my miracle really happened. We conceived my son J and he was born almost a year to the day after my due date with Alex. I never forget the babies I lost. I never forget the struggle to have the ones that I have and I am forever grateful that my two boys are in my life.

Author: Bipolar Mom

I am a wife and mother living with mental illnesses.

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