Last week in my blog about upgrading my fertility diet, I wrote about the “occasional bout of fatigue” that I still had. Well it turns out that those occasional bouts of fatigue were due to the fact that I was pregnant and had had a miscarriage. So, how did I miss the signs of miscarriage? And how could someone who is trying so hard to conceive not know she’s pregnant?
Quite easily: with a negative pregnancy test and my period.
OK let’s start from the beginning.
First Signs of Miscarriage
My last cycle was 36 days. I was taking my temperature each morning so I know I ovulated around cycle day 26 (yes, this is very late). And since my luteal phase seems to be around 10 days long right now, I took a pregnancy test on cycle day 36. The test was negative and my period started the next day.
File away another cycle. Or so I thought.
My period was not the usual five days of bleeding. It was eight days and I had a few bouts of fatigue during this never ending period. I thought this was a bit strange, but I’m so used to randomness with my renegade cycle. So I noted the difference and chalked it up as to be observed.
Experiencing More Signs of Miscarriage
Over the next week, though, I experienced some spotting. I never spot around mid cycle. This was officially out of the ordinary. But things became really strange last Sunday (cycle day 15).
With new powder on the ground, I got up early, grabbed my skis and headed off with my husband and some friends to the mountains. For me, the day ended before it even got started.
I made two turns in the deep powder and sat down. I was too tired to ski.
What the #*@! ?
I was appalled. This fatigue thing is going too far. I can’t ski one powder run? I wasn’t out of breath and didn’t have the strength.
Somehow I made it down the powder run – more rolling than skiing but, hey, you do what you gotta do!
When I reached the lift, I announced that I’d be sticking to the groomed trails for the next few runs. Yet this wasn’t working either. Before the lunch break I had to part with my new friend that joined me on the groomed runs and say, “Well, I can’t ski anymore, I’m too tired.” I had no explanation, nor was I wasn’t feel sick. I just couldn’t find an ounce of strength.
Feeling Tired and Frustrated
After lunch, I thought maybe I’d be energized and be able to head back out.
Instead I waved goodbye as they all headed out of the ski hut. I played a little Sudoku on my cell phone, stared out the window at the beautiful mountains and then laid my head on the table and slept – for over an hour.
I tried not to be frustrated, but when we made it home the frustration oozed out and I cried to my husband, “What’s going on?” Neither of us had an answer, but tomorrow would shed a whole new light on the situation.
Is Having Cramps a Miscarriage Sign?
I woke up on Monday and headed down to my yoga matt – like I always do. Halfway into the Sun Salutation posture series, I found myself lying on the floor – in pain. I pulled the nearest blanket over me and moaned in pain until my husband got up.
“What’s happening?” he asked with concern and his eyes barely opened.
“I need to call my gynecologist as soon as the office opens. I’m having cramps.”
My husband covered me with a big blanket and curled up next to me on my yoga matt.
The cramps began to subside after what seemed like an eternity – probably more like thirty minutes. I then called my gynecologist’s office and explained that I needed an appointment today – not tomorrow – today!
My Examination with my Gynecologist
My appointment was set for 1:15. By late morning I recovered, however, the spotting had increased. Anxiously, I headed downtown to my gynecologist’s office and kept myself quite distracted from any what-if-scenarios.
She did the usual exam and ultrasound and found nothing. No cysts. Zero fluid. No visible ectopic pregnancy. No signs of anything. The only thing she discovered was that my uterus was very tender – the yelp I let out and the tears streaming out of my eyes where apparently a dead giveaway. She told me to go home and rest and she’d call me later with the results from the blood work.
I was Pregnant, and I Miscarried
It was 5:30 in the evening and my cell rang. It was my gynecologist. She cleared her throat and said it straight away, “It turns out you were pregnant, but you miscarried.”
Scared. Sad. Happy. These were my emotions; in that order. At about the speed with which you read them – I had them.
Scared because what if this is another ectopic. Sad because I just miscarried. Happy because I had gotten pregnant.
She talked to me for about 15 minutes answering my onslaught of questions. And then she had me do what I knew was inevitable: make an appointment to get my HCG values checked to make sure they return to zero – indicating that the pregnancy is not ectopic.
The chances of this being an ectopic pregnancy are slim since I have bled so much, but apparently they aren’t zero and, as my gynecologist said, “since you’ve had an ectopic before we need to be sure.” So I’ll be going in on Thursday afternoon to “double-check.”
Right now I’m hopeful that this is not an ectopic pregnancy. Since we need to double-check, I can’t say I’m worry free.
Confused Over the Signs of Miscarriage, Yet Relieved!
The signs of miscarriage that I was experiencing had me confused, as at that time I wasn’t aware that I was even pregnant. Strangely, my predominant emotion now is relief. Yes, I still cried last night and had a couple of “why did I miscarry?” episodes. However, I am truly relieved. I now know where my bouts of fatigue were coming from. I know why my cycle was so strange. And I know my body is once again capable. And certainly it helps that I found out I miscarried before I knew I was pregnant.
What’s next? My first pregnancy was ectopic. My second pregnancy a miscarriage. The next one could be the one where my body gets it right.
Common Miscarriage Symptoms
- Cramping and pain in lower stomach area
- Discharge/bleeding of fluid from vagina
- Discharge of tissue from vagina
- No longer experiencing the symptoms of pregnancy, that include feeling of nausea and breast tenderness.