Pregnancy After Loss
Today I’m 24 weeks pregnant. It’s still hard for me to believe, even after watching my belly grow, and my life change these last 6 months, that I’m actually carrying our daughter. A baby girl, whom we’ve named, and completely fell in love with.
I guess it’s hard to believe, because it was exactly one year ago on August 2nd that we lost our first child. I was lying in a sterile office in midtown, that reeked of sanitizing product, when the doctor said she could no longer find a heartbeat. Like it just… had disappeared. Along with our hopes and dreams for the future.
Experiencing a miscarriage has definitely had an impact on who I am, as a woman and as a mother. I know that I’m not alone in this, as 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. But it was not something I expected, or had much personal experience or knowledge of until going through it myself. Maybe because it is still widely considered a private family matter and not a matter of health.
Before I could fully lean into my pregnancy, I had to process and heal from my prior miscarriage.
The day was surreal. Ryan and I had waited over an hour for a scan on a Saturday morning. It was hot, the waiting room was crowded, and we argued about how this was the last time we’d be going to this Doctors office before we switched to a better provider.
We had been through multiple ultrasounds already, and had already heard the baby’s heartbeat. But I was anxious, because I had been bleeding. Despite the scans we had, and that the baby showed signs of growth, our due date kept getting pushed back. First we were due at the end of February, and then eventually we were told the baby is tracking for delivery March 8th. So at every appointment I held my breath as I watched the screen.
I remember the doctor knocking on the door, entering the room, and warmly saying “are you ready to see your little peanut?” before beginning the exam. The little shape of a fetus was there on screen when we began, but it looked so small. The doctor kept moving the monitor in silence. The seconds that passed felt like hours… and suddenly I was filled with dread. I imagined her saying the words before she said them.. “I’m not finding a heartbeat, I’m so sorry.”
It was over already before I felt like it really began. 9 weeks had passed since our positive pregnancy test, a summer that was filled with hope and love. We shared the news, we made plans, we continued searching for houses with a nursery in mind, and we were so excited to find out the gender soon. And the in one moment, all of that was gone. I was suddenly… and instantly… no longer a Mom. Even though this little life was still inside of me at that moment.
The baby we were pregnant with last summer was so very wanted. It had already been months of trying and tracking. My cycle was very off, and so that made it hard, and getting pregnant wasn’t instantaneous. We started 2024 hoping we would have a baby that year, but we had no idea what the journey would look like. In June I took an ovulation test and a pregnancy test at the same time, and my jaw dropped as I slowly saw two pink lines appear on both tests. Even though we had been trying for a family, I was starting to feel worried, and so I was flooded with a mix of surprise and relief. When Ryan got home, I threw him a football that said “you’re going to be a dad!” Our lives were immediately, and forever, changed.
Everyone around us knew we were hoping for a family. And so with joy we shared the happy news with our immediate circles. Even though it was early, we did so without fear or worry, and with so much excitement. I didn’t have fear, I had hope. A few days later, the doctor had confirmed we were pregnant, and it wasn’t until I started bleeding that I understood why the first few weeks of pregnancy can be so unpredictable.
And even though I soon found out I wouldn’t be able to grow that baby, and know that baby, I will never forget how I loved that baby. God, I loved them. They made me a mom for the first time. And as early as it ended, and that I kept that experience mostly to myself then, I feel its important to acknowledge and honor that child’s life now. Especially as I prepare for the arrival of their sibling. As much as I tried to pretend that this miscarriage was not a big deal at first, I couldn’t move on as easily as I hoped. And so I had to give in to my grief. Because it was all real, even from the beginning.
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I couldn’t believe it at first. I was stunned silent, and confused. What happened, what had I done wrong. The Doctor reassured us it was nothing we could control, likely a chromosomal abnormality. If I had lost the baby, why didn’t I miscarry it? It was like my body was holding on to this child and wouldn’t let go. The Doctor defined it as a missed abortion, or what the internet told me was a missed miscarriage. I was offered options for treatment, all of which sounded unpleasant.
Our families knew something was wrong when they didn’t hear from us that day. I could barely get the words out on the phone. I felt like I let everyone down. They were buying gifts and embracing their new titles as Grandparents, Aunts, and Uncles and making plans for the future alongside us. I could barely bring myself to tell our closest loved ones, which for someone so open like me is surprising.
The next several weeks were even more confusing. My at home abortion pill caused me a day of intense pain, cramping and severe bleeding. Yet at a follow up appointment weeks later, I found out that I still retained the pregnancy. And besides that, they saw a mass on my ovary. I lost my breath momentarily, before the doctor shared her opinion that this was likely a benign cyst, but more test were needed. The hits just kept coming.
I had been carrying the baby for 12 weeks when I found out that I would need a D&C to remove the pregnancy via vacuum. At 14 weeks, I finally was scheduled for my appointment at NYU for what I thought would be a quick and painless procedure, based on what my doctors had prepared me for. With anesthesia, I would fall asleep and wake up no longer pregnant. But that was not the case. My mom and I waited hours at the clinic before we were called in to review options. None included the anesthesia. If I wanted to have the abortion that day I would have to do so with only local anesthetic and a Motrin given to me moments before. The experience was brutally painful, the cramps excruciating, and the stinging feeling still haunts me.
I recovered, and I moved forward. I had hope that since I got pregnant once, it wouldn’t be long before I got pregnant again. Weeks passed before my cycle regulated. I knew I needed to be patient. Throughout the Fall, and several more negative pregnancy tests, I began to feel my hope was fading. I began consultations and tests to understand the mass on my ovary, and the next steps needed to remove it.
It felt like so many people around me all became pregnant at once. As thrilled as I was for them, and excited to see their families grow, I was also crippled by my own worries and doubts. As someone who has always been excited to celebrate others, I felt a foreign feeling. It was like I was trapped in someone else’s mind, and I couldn’t get control of my emotions or worries. Almost every other thought had to do with pregnancy, it consumed my mind. Would I get the chance to become a Mom? Happy announcements online caught me off guard, and brought me to tears. I grappled with the heavy mix of emotions within me.
It wasn’t just the miscarriage and getting pregnant again that were weighing on me, but so were big changes in Ryan’s career and struggling to figure out our next move outside of the city. We had been looking for a house for almost a year already with no success. I had put my dreams of running all the World Major Marathons on the back burner when we started trying for a family, and now it had been over a year since my stress fracture prevented me from running a race I had completed training for.
I soon found out based on the type and size of the cyst, they recommended surgery to remove it, which I wasn’t scheduled for until early January. That meant I couldn’t getting pregnant until sometime in the New Year, after recovering from the surgery. It had been close to 12 months since I had gone off birth control, and I was ringing in another New Year, hoping for a child again.
No one singular thing triggered it, but the compounding belief that my life was taking a turn for the worst. A depression was pulling me deeper away from reality every day. There were many nights I barely made it home before breaking down. Was I ever going to be ok again?
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Because we couldn’t prove that the cyst was benign until testing the tissue after removal, the following weeks I was riddled with fear. So I was feeling very fortunate when I got a call that a slot had opened up at the hospital several weeks early, on December 18th.
I’m grateful for the excellent care I received from my Doctor at Mount Sinai. The laparoscopic surgery was quick, and I woke up from the deepest slumber hours later. In the days that followed, I embraced the feelings of physical exhaustion and pain, letting myself unravel completely. It paled in comparison to the emotional pain I had felt for months. Ryan helped lift me out of bed to the bathroom at all hours of the day and night when I was too sore to rise. He and my family helped get me through the first few days and by Christmas Eve I was able to get dressed, head home, and spend the holiday surrounded by my loved ones.
My doctor said that the cyst was huge, and it was good I had it removed before complications like ovarian torsion could pose a greater threat or emergency. I was so grateful when the test results came in and it was confirmed the mass was not cancerous. I was ending the toughest year of my life on a positive note. Even though I had struggled in 2024, I was lucky to be alive and healthy.
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It was out of an abundance of gratitude and a fresh perspective that I decided to share my story on Instagram. As much as I knew the post would be open to judgement, and my journey to motherhood would face greater visibility and speculation, I hoped to connect with women who could relate. I didn’t know if there would be others in the trenches of their own heartache and loss like I had been a few months earlier but it was worth the risk to help someone else.
The response I experienced was far more than what I could have imagined. I realized that day that I was never alone. I was met with kindness, and sympathy. I was showered with well wishes, of strength and love. I was brought to tears by the stories others so courageously shared with me about their own losses, about their own battles with infertility, and IVF. Learning about the many women who struggled, and overcame challenges to create their family filled me with so much hope. In my own bubble, I hadn’t realized how many people around me that already had what I wanted… a baby, a family… could have already faced their own struggles to get there. It opened my eyes. We never know the pain someone is carrying.
Even with all the care I received from my incredible support system, I didn’t think everyone would understand my grief. I leaned into therapy and acupuncture that specialized in fertility. I created purpose and plans, and walked through that darkness, until the clouds cleared. But there is no replacement for a community of women who have been through something similar. They help you step forward, in support, through the unknown.
After processing what I had been through, I rang in the New Year in Florida with friends. I spent the first day of 2025 floating in the ocean under a warm sun. I basked in my blessings. I laughed with friends. The year prior, in the very same beach town, I wished to be Mom as the ball dropped. My wish was the same as midnight arrived on New Years. Even though things hadn’t worked out the way I imagined them to, I was finally feeling better. I was finally believing I would be ok, and that there was hope for me to get pregnant again.
I spent the winter taking care of myself. I moved quietly and intentionally. I journaled and meditated daily. I detoxed in the sauna several times a week. I changed my diet, took so many vitamins and supplements, limited drinking, and did acupuncture weekly. I continued therapy. I protected my peace, surrounding myself with things that felt good and removing what did not. I prayed.
I made plans for the future. Trips to places I had dreamed of traveling to. I poured myself into work and my travel planning business. After weeks of recovery, I got back into working out regularly and moving my body with yoga and strength workouts. After months of feeling like I was trapped inside someone I no longer knew, I felt at home again in my own body.
I told myself that it was ok if we pursued fertility treatments. It was ok if we took an alternate route if it led to a family at the end of the day. We had many difficult conversations that forced us to grow closer. We made sacrifices and prioritized what was necessary to put our family first.
On March 16th, we took a pregnancy test. But I already knew in my heart, I was pregnant. We watched together as it turned positive. I cried into Ryan’s arms.
After all the praying, the waiting and wanting. The nights I spent crying. The pep talks. The hugs. We were going to have the chance to grow our family again. I was going to be a Mom.
Given my history with pregnancy I was nervous at first. I didn’t know if I should get excited, what if a miscarriage happened again? But I told my acupuncturist and she gave me advice I will never forget. “No matter what happens, today you are a mom. You have a child and you can fight for them right now.” Rather than fear the worse, and physically harbor that worry in my body, I could care and nurture my body for this baby. And so that’s what I did.
I started visiting a new practice and excited to have a fresh start with better care this time around. But the first 6 week scan wasn’t ideal. The Doctor saw the gestational sac and yolk sac, but no baby. My hormone levels were off due to pregnancy induced hypothyroidism, which would require a daily medication that had to be taken in the morning on an empty stomach. I was prescribed progesterone suppositories based on my miscarriage history. I could barely concentrate at work with the feelings of anxiety. A few days later I returned to do another blood test, and they confirmed my HCG levels were doubling daily as expected… a very good sign.
I leaned on my meditation and breathing techniques between the next scan and continued to fight for this baby in the ways I knew how. Part of that was telling my family and friends early to get the support I needed. It also made this child real.. made me once again acknowledge the experience of motherhood, no matter how long or short it would be for.
At our 8 week appointment I returned for another ultrasound, this time to hear the baby’s heartbeat. It was a critical moment. The Doctor didn’t waste time, knowing I was anxious as I was gripping Ryan’s hand. Moments later we heard our baby’s heartbeat for the first time. It was the most beautiful sound in the world. Strong and fast, and powering this little tiny life. The baby was starting to take shape.
I was determined to no longer hold myself back from things “in case I was pregnant” and that meant not cancelling plans just because I was. I had a few months full of adventure ahead of me, and it was the best distraction from my anxiety.
Around 9 weeks I was due to travel to Copenhagen, and later that month would be a big one… Dubai. I cleared every trip with my Doctor, and prepared to rest, hydrate and relax more than normal on these trips. But I spent the Spring truly living out my dreams. I traveled the world, with my best friends. And one day I would tell my baby all the things we did together, and how many countries we visited when they were still in my womb.
I was grateful to be feeling like myself for most of the first trimester, aside from some lingering cold symptoms that I could not kick. They persisted off and on for about 9 weeks into my second trimester before finally clearing up. My nausea was isolated to the evenings, usually around dinner time where it became hard to pick meals based on my many aversions. I ended up eating chicken fingers and Annie’s Shells more than I’d like to admit. And while I did throw up a few times, it was normally associated to taking my prenatal vitamins. Tweaking my diet, workout, and vitamin schedule in the evenings really helped me get through it.
Time between scans still built anxiety for me, but the closer I got to the 2nd trimester, the less anxious I felt. With so many wonderful things happening in our lives at once, the weeks seemed to fly by, and suddenly I was at my 12 week scan at our hospital. It was starting to feel real!
We found out shortly after that we were having a baby girl. Everything clicked for me the second I knew who she was, and now it’s like we’ve always known each other. The bond I have with this little one is incredibly deep. I celebrate every day that she grows, and even though I’m savoring these moments we’re sharing together, I’m also cheering for every step closer we take to meeting her.
At 24 weeks I’m feeling her move regularly. As I sit here and type this, she’s been kicking me and turning over. I talk to her so she will not feel alone, and Ryan kisses my belly each night. We have completely fallen in love.
While my experience with pregnancy may have looked different than I imagined, I now know it led me to this moment.
I wouldn’t say “I’m glad I went through it, and now it all makes sense”
But I would say that I wish I could have told myself last year to hold on… and it would get better.
Many moms who have reached out to me since announcing my pregnancy shared beautiful and inspiring words around destiny and that this baby was meant for us. I think that’s true.
So while I wouldn’t say that “everything happens for a reason” I do feel like I’m embracing what I’ve been through and where I am today… because it is the happiest I’ve ever been.
Pregnancy after loss can be beautiful. It can make you even more grateful. It can help you embrace the times your sick, and the times your stressed, because you know you’re lucky to even be pregnant. I’ve experienced so many highs and lows, and that has given me a new perspective I hope to take into motherhood. And I hope I won’t take it for granted.
If you are currently going through loss, or have experienced it before, please know I’m always here to connect with. While I debated keeping this writing for myself, my experience sharing in December has encouraged me to continue being vulnerable because sometimes the most honest conversations and connections will arise from it. I hope that I can be a light for others, as women have done for me.