My readers have noticed in the last few days and weeks that I have not been having an easy time of it. I would like to tell you publicly what happened to me. I had an early miscarriage, a "missed abortion," a "wind egg".
Why am I writing this?
I have read a lot during this time, many good articles and stories of women who have opened up, for example the story of Halitha. This made my fate tangible and easier to understand. You are not alone, I thought. For the openness of these women I was and am very grateful. That’s why I would like to share my story as well, to say to those affected: you are not alone. It goes like this for many. And we manage to keep going afterwards and take new courage.
Besides that I realized in the last days that it is good for me to talk (and write) about everything that happened. For me personally, there is no reason not to talk about it. I am not ashamed of what has happened. Why also. I am not interested in collecting sympathy. On the contrary – I want to be dealt with normally. But miscarriages are also part of nature and our life. I do not want to make a dark secret of what happened to me.
I ask only sensitive, anxious women and especially pregnant women at this point to consider whether they want to read on. You hear so many stories, so much negativity. For some people this is too much in their head and it makes them unnecessarily fearful.
Diagnosis: Missed Abortion – about lost hope and new courage
Shortness of breath, tense breasts, appetite for EVERYTHING, especially if there’s ketchup on it… When my period stops, I wait a little longer and then get two tests at the drugstore. I do the first one at noon, with heart palpitations. Negative. I don’t think much of it – at midday the hormone concentration is usually still far too low to show up on the test. It is recommended to test with morning urine. So the next morning a new attempt… Also this time negative. Or? It’s easy to see a second line there. But only so minimal that I think I’m imagining it. I know how it should actually look like. So what, I think. Then just not. We have no pressure, it doesn’t matter. A bit of a pity I find it already. But nothing runs away from us.
My period continues to be absent. Contrary to the advice of the pharmacist ("If the test was negative once, it will be negative the second time too. I recommend you to do a blood test with your doctor.") I go to get a third pregnancy test. BaM. So positive! A wave of joy and happiness goes through me.
I do not trust the roast
Nevertheless: somehow I don’t really trust the roast this time. That is actually still too mildly expressed. I don’t know why, but this time I’m just scared. At the first pregnancy I remember myself deeply relaxed. Everything always seemed to go okay. I have never been very worried. So I try it also this time. My rational head tells me to relax. Enjoy! Be happy!
When I talk about this pregnancy, I still express myself very carefully. To my friends I am surprised that the symptoms are so mild this time. Hardly any nausea, the initial cravings are hardly there anymore. What you usually have. But they reassure me. Every pregnancy is different.
Every pregnancy is different
After a few days the time has come and I have my appointment with the gynecologist in SSW 6 + 0. At least I can see an amniotic cavity there. Timely trained. And according to the doctor everything is tippitoppi. But didn’t I already see a dot with a beating heart during the last pregnancy this week?? (At home I look in my booklet: yes, I have).
Nevertheless, the doctor reassures me, tells me what my rational mind is constantly trying to tell me. In two weeks I should come by again. Then you can see more.
Two weeks. Have any of you been in a similar situation before?
Two weeks can seem like years.
The weekend passes and everything seems to be fine. I stop wondering that this time I hardly feel any symptoms of pregnancy. Every pregnancy is different. My mantra.
Wind egg – what an ugly word
Four days after the appointment with the doctor, I discover a light brownish discharge. My heart starts beating faster. I suppress negative thoughts. Discharge is okay. It can have all kinds of colors. Throughout the day I keep checking, but everything seems fine. In the evening then, suddenly some blood. Not much. But enough to decide immediately: Blood is not a good thing in pregnancy. Even positive thoughts don’t help. The doctor has already finished. So to the hospital.
In the waiting room my mind races.
Blood does not have to mean anything negative.
Whether I totally overdid it and am now sitting in the emergency room for no reason?
But still… Something tells me that something is fundamentally wrong.
My gut feeling wants to make it clear to my rationale: something is wrong here.
I am called.
The young doctor makes it clear that it was absolutely right for me to come. The blood still does not have to mean anything bad. We look at the ultrasound. And what I see does not need much explanation. Nevertheless, I hear the doctor’s words as if muffled: "For the time of pregnancy, the seventh week, you would have to see a bit more. At least a yolk sac. Most likely it is a so-called wind egg."
Wind egg. What an ugly word. And with this word, my hopes fade away. My gut feeling was right. From the beginning.
A wind egg means that the amniotic cavity and placenta are developing as in a regular pregnancy. Over days and weeks there is still a high release of pregnancy hormones. The body thinks that there is a pregnancy. But an embryo cannot develop and so the amniotic cavity remains empty.
I learn that I have done nothing wrong. That this happens quite often (But why have I never heard of it before?). That there are no consequences for a further desire to have children.
Tears come to my eyes and it’s okay. The doctor is understanding, takes her time, comforts me. The tension, the question marks of the last weeks – all that falls away from me. I become calm. In a week I have another control appointment with my gynecologist. It is possible that by the time of the appointment there will already be a departure (another ugly word). The hospital doctor does not want to get my hopes up.
In the video, other sufferers and I talk about our experiences.
Time to grieve, time to say goodbye
In the seven days until the doctor’s appointment, I begin to search the Internet. There are so many stories in which the supposed wind egg hides a small embryo. Maybe, I think, everything is all right after all? In any case, there is no more blood to be seen. Everything is as before.
What if the visit to the hospital hadn’t happened – I would still be just hopeful pregnant. Everything would be fine. Maybe it’s all just a big mistake? Especially since I find it hard to give up this little bit of hope, even if it is only a tiny spark, at first. I continue to take my folic acid, I remain faithful to the pregnancy taboos for the time being. It is also agonizing in the meantime. I act like a pregnant woman – even though there is nothing wrong with me?
The week I have until the next appointment turns out to be precious for me. For I am coming to terms more and more with what is now, day by day. I am calmer and calmer inside. I accept what has happened. Sometimes I am overcome with sadness. I let them. But apart from that I do not want a state of emergency. I go back to work, we have a family visit. I take the liberty of enlisting the family to lighten the load, they watch the little one a lot and help around the house. For that I am very grateful. My friends are also intensively there for me these days, listening to me. Such an environment is incredibly valuable.
Take new courage
When the day of the next examination arrives, I am not excited. I can see what is coming and I want to clarify the next steps with my doctor. Again the ultrasound confirms the diagnosis of a diaper egg. My gynecologist tells me once again:
Nobody can do anything about it. I have done nothing wrong. It is nature’s way, it happens often and it does not mean anything for further pregnancies.
Hearing that again is good.
Comforting for me was and is that there was never a human little one to see, that I had not yet formed a bond and that it happened so soon. And a great, comforting happiness is that I was already allowed to bring such a wonderful child into the world, who is waiting for me at home. And even if it may not be understandable for everyone: I was somehow glad to discuss the next steps with my doctor in order to be able to close the deal. To be able to take new courage.
In my case, I was advised to have a curettage, preferably within the next few days. I want to spare myself a miscarriage, or small birth, as it is also called. The pain and the blood – I think all that would be an additional burden for me. Exactly in the SSW 8 + 0 it is so far.
Scrapping (or curettage, as it is also called) is nowadays a routine procedure in which the lining of the uterus is removed. This is done on an outpatient basis, the procedure takes 10 to 15 minutes. After 4 to 5 hours you can go home again, if your circulation is stable. I’m very glad my doctor gave me a longer sick leave – because even though physically you’re back on your feet relatively quickly, I think it does your soul good to let what you’ve experienced heal as well.
The procedure itself is okay. When I wake up from the general anesthesia, the first moment I feel a little empty. Once again I consciously say goodbye. But physically it is not bad. Hardly any pain (thanks to proper painkillers), a few hours later I’m on my feet again.
Even if I am calm. Even though I have accepted fate. I grieve for this pregnancy. To avoid what could have been. I already had a name in mind, it will be reserved forever for this little something. I am sad, but I am not resigned to my fate. It is part of nature and now forever part of my life, my story.
And yet this experience has not broken me. I have new courage and look forward. I’m looking forward to spring and early summer and everything else the next few months have in store for me. And I am unspeakably grateful for my strong, close family and friend environment. No matter what comes – I have you all by my side (and you have me by yours). Thank you!