Story of My Pregnancy Loss

It was Saturday morning when I decided to take the pregnancy test. My period was mostly always on time, but this time I was five days late. I took the test, and it showed the word “Pregnant.” I'd had a hunch for a couple of days, but the moment it actually said Pregnant, I was overwhelmed. My brain raced in a million directions. Suddenly, it felt isolating, even in the arms of my loving husband. They say you need a village for things like this. Mine was thousands of miles away. I missed my family, my grandma, my mom, my aunts, my cousins, my best friend.

In the blink of an eye, it felt like our whole world had changed. We started questioning everything. My husband and I were constantly googling things. Am I eating right? What should I avoid? Do I keep doing yoga? What poses should I avoid? What about weightlifting? Should I continue or cut back? When should I even go to the doctor's office? What happens now? What about the vacation coming up? Is it safe to travel? A million questions, all at once. With these unending questions and overwhelming emotions, Saturday went by. We spent hours on Google and Reddit, and it was all good.

Sunday morning, we hosted a friend for breakfast. We had a nice morning with good food and conversation. I was still processing everything, but I was finally coming to accept the new reality and take it slow. I was spotting during the day, and I'd read that was pretty normal. But after 5 pm, I started bleeding, definitely more than spotting at this point.

I was scared. Again, Google and Reddit were our best friends. Since there were no symptoms warranting an ER visit, we stayed home, but the abdominal cramps got worse in the evening. I cried my eyes out that night, still hoping it was normal to bleed like this sometimes. I was awake for most of the night, caught between cramps and serious worry. Around 3 am, I told myself, I'll call the OBGYN office first thing in the morning, and if they can't fit me in, we'll go to urgent care. Somehow that gave me some comfort, and I finally slept for a few hours.

Monday morning, I called OBGYN’s office, and thankfully they were able to bring me in for lab tests. We went, they drew my blood, and I was sent home. No concrete answers. I couldn't even talk to the doctor. I was so annoyed with the front desk staff because she asked me, “Do you think you're miscarrying?” How would I know? Wasn't I the one who came to them for answers? Instead, they were questioning me. The only thing they told me was that if I started bleeding heavily, or had a fever or extreme pain, I'd need to go to the ER. Nothing we didn't already know from googling.

That same day, I bled all day. I didn't think it was normal to bleed like that at all, but I was still hopeful, I guess. By the end of the day, though, I was slowly moving into an acceptance phase. Whatever the outcome, I would accept it. I had no control over what was happening, so it felt important to stay emotionally regulated rather than let myself be engulfed by the situation. I think having that mindset, and having less cramping, helped me get some sleep that night.

When I woke up Tuesday morning, I fully accepted that this was an early pregnancy loss for me. I talked to my best friend that day, journaled my heart out, and made my peace with the fact that it was a loss and that it wasn't the right timing for us. That lifted a whole lot of emotional weight off my chest. I was still waiting for the blood test results, but you know your body more than any test. I knew it, the same way I'd known I was pregnant even before I took the test.

Later that day, I got a call from the doctor's office saying they'd detected low hormone levels in my blood and needed me to come in for another blood draw. I went in the next day. That Wednesday afternoon, I felt a sudden, total exhaustion, like I had to nap, no matter what. In the middle of the workday, I took one. It felt like my body had done its work and just wanted me to lie down and rest. I did exactly what my body wanted to do. I napped and took it slow the rest of the day.

You may be wondering why I'm sharing the most vulnerable story of my life for anyone to read. There are a lot of thoughts running through my head, but mainly, I'm sharing this because I think we need to hear these stories. Pregnancy loss is far more common than we think, and I want to create a space in case anyone else wants to talk about it too.

When I first found out I was pregnant, it was very disorienting, even with the kindest, most compassionate, and empathetic partner. It was confusing, overwhelming, and, more than anything, isolating. It made me realize how disconnected I, or maybe we, can be from the reality of pregnancy, what it does to your body and mind, what parenthood might look like, and the weight of it all. I think social media has definitely made us see mostly the happy, cheerful side and not the struggles people go through. I’m sure it is a rewarding experience, and I look forward to it, but there are so many things I wouldn't have thought about otherwise on any given day.

And especially after realizing and understanding how common pregnancy loss actually is, I kept, and still keep wondering how many women around me have gone through something like this without ever saying a word. We don't talk about it enough.

Two people in my life knew about it. I would not share something like this with anyone without feeling in my core that I can go to them with my vulnerable self. It’s a huge deal to share something like this with anyone. Not everyone around us is capable of supporting us the way we need them to. Not everyone understands it. And oh boy, all the wrong things people with good intentions can tell you when you do not need to hear them is probably why people don’t often open up. I get that completely. I took my time too. Now that I have processed my grief, I am ready to share this with everyone because, as I mentioned earlier too, we need to know these stories.

My whole journey ended in four days (maybe five), from a positive test to complete loss. I was a whirlwind of emotions, and because I hadn't told anyone yet, it was even more isolating. The moment you see that positive test, you adopt a new identity almost instantly. I adopted it and lost it again within a couple of days, and it was genuinely wild. When people talk about a rollercoaster of emotions, yup, that was it: fear, nervousness, disappointment, grief, loneliness, all at once. I don't think I ever got to feel truly happy about it. I was still processing the overwhelm when it turned straight into grief, so there was really no time to sit with anything positive.

Through all of it, the one silver lining was seeing just how loved and cared for I am. Life is hard, and there will always be moments that knock you into a different headspace. Having someone you can share those feelings with, honestly, matters more than I can say. I don't take that support lightly, and I never will. I am so thankful for my husband and my best friend who were there for me.

Beyond the emotions, there were also some things I learned along the way:

1. The wildest thing (at least to me) was learning that they count pregnancy weeks from the first day of your last period. So, by the time you even find out you're pregnant, you're already 5 or 6 weeks in. By that math, I was 5 weeks pregnant. Absolutely wild.
2. The term “chemical pregnancy” refers to when you lose a pregnancy very early, typically within the first 5 weeks. In a way, it's the body's own protective mechanism. There may have been a random chromosomal or genetic issue, and your body recognizes it can't progress into a healthy pregnancy. That's why it tends to happen so early. Never had I ever heard of a term like that, but life teaches you new things, and here I am sharing this with you all, in case you didn’t know either.
3. Because it was so early, my loss looked a lot like a period, just with more clotting. The cramps, though, were intense enough to keep me up at night. If I had not taken the test, I would most likely have thought it was a period that felt different than the usual ones. However, it might look different for different individuals. If your loss involves heavier bleeding, fever, or dizziness, go to the ER. In the US, that's the first line of help once things get serious. Mine was manageable at home, but it's good to know how to seek help, just in case.
4. It is not a good time to switch OBGYNs if you're in the US. None of the doctors I contacted would take me on as a new patient. Most won't until you're 8 weeks along. I ended up going back to my old OBGYN, who I really don't love, but it was my only option. Having said that, I am so grateful that they squeezed me in on the very first day I called them for the lab test. While the gut feeling was right, it’s always safe to have it tested and confirm with the doctor.
5. It helps to have a female friend you can confide in. As kind and compassionate as my husband is, he doesn't have a uterus (saying it lovingly), so he can't offer quite the same comfort and reassurance as a friend who's actually been through this- pregnancy in general, not necessarily loss.
6. Reddit is such a great community. Google is fine, but reading other people's real experiences gave me a kind of comfort, reassurance, and support that I needed most in that moment.
7. No one should pester a couple about having babies. I assure you, you do not need to set a timeline for them. If and when they are ready, they will decide for themselves. No one knows what’s going on in their lives but themselves. Someone could have experienced a loss, and they may be grieving that loss. It's such an intimate thing, and I feel like it's an intrusion to pester anyone about this matter.
8. Not that I didn't know this, but I cannot stress the importance of being kind to one another enough. I didn’t miss a day of work while I was going through it all. I showed up. I went to meetings, smiled at people, and did my job. No one had a clue what I was going through inside. It made me realize everyone is probably fighting their own battles we know nothing about. So, please let's be kind to each other.

Aside from everything else the facts, the timeline, and the lessons- what stays with me most is how eye-opening the experience was. It was a glimpse into how much can change the moment you find out you're pregnant. Maybe a quick reality check from the universe.

Coming back to why I chose to put this out there, because I'm sure this isn't my experience alone. According to the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists, about 10%-20% of clinically confirmed pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that doesn't even count chemical pregnancies like mine, which happen even more often (50-75% of all miscarriages) and are talked about even less. I have to imagine many women around me have lived through something like this too.

I just wanted to open up the conversation and make space for women like me, the ones who had losses before me, and the ones who might have losses after. I'm here for you. If anyone wants to talk about this, let's have an open conversation. Let's open this door for other women too. And not just women, men too, if they're interested. This concerns all of us, and it's good to be aware of what can happen.

So, here is my story. If you're going through this right now, I am so sorry. This was not your fault, and you are not alone.

And if you’ve already been through it, I’m sorry you had to experience it. I hope you’re doing okay now.

Life is hard, and we go through so much. But I believe there is power in sharing our stories, in being vulnerable and putting ourselves out there in the hope that someone might learn from our experience.

The more I talk to people and learn about what others have been through, the more I realize how easy it is to feel like we’re alone in our struggles. But most of our experiences aren’t entirely unique. There is something comforting about knowing that someone else has been there too. Sharing our stories makes us feel less alone and, somehow, a little more connected.

So, here is my small attempt at doing that. I hope it reminds you that you don’t have to carry the emotional burden all by yourself. There is so much kindness and goodness out there if we allow ourselves to reach for it.

Thank you for coming along on my journey.

Take care,
Sujita