Navigating Pregnancy After Miscarriage
Seeking Hope, Healing, and Resilience

Pregnancy after miscarriage is a tricky thing. It’s magical, joyful, healing, terrifying, and soul-crushing all at once. Never in a million years did I expect this pregnancy. 

It took me 30 cycles to get pregnant the first time. Full of hope at first, tracking and counting the days, then falling into a monotonous routine that felt more like checking off a to-do list so we could say we tried.

The Grief of Miscarriage

My miscarriage was medically straightforward, but the grief, worry, wonder, and fear were not. Miraculously, I felt ready to start trying again right away, and just three cycles later, I was late again. Sure enough, that blue + showed up strong and clear.

The first few weeks of this pregnancy were anxious ones. I leaned on my practices—breathing, being present in my body, feeling the strength of my vertical core, allowing the feelings, shadows, and fears to run their course, releasing them as they passed, and riding the waves.

Sharing the News After Pregnancy Loss

We told those closest to us right away. Last time, we didn’t, but when the sadness descended, and I checked out of life, people noticed. We shared our sadness. So many people held us in our grief without getting to share our joy, and it didn’t feel right.

My dad reminded me that I’m running a marathon—one mile at a time. That felt so right, and I constantly bring myself back to that reminder. Just focus on this mile right here. Run this mile well. Rest, hydrate, surrender to what is, and release the unknown.

Dancing With Fear as Time Passes

It felt like years, but it happened. The little number on the tracker app finally said seven weeks. We’d made it farther than last time, and things were looking good.

But were they? 36 hours before our first ultrasound, I started spotting. It progressed exactly as it had the last time—starting with just a tiny pink tinge on the toilet paper and progressing into a dark brown spotting that left me chilled to my bones.

I thought for sure the floodgates would open at any moment. That we would go to our first ultrasound to be told it’s “not consistent with what we see in a healthy pregnancy.”

Finding Hope in the Midst of Uncertainty

But the floodgates didn’t open. I held my breath for three days, and in shocked disbelief, immediately saw the gestational sac with a little blob pop up on the screen. I saw little heart cells working away and felt Quinn’s excitement next to me when he saw them too.

For the next 10 days, I welcomed my puking and exhaustion with open arms. I survived a trip and a family wedding, was able to focus on work, and enjoyed a surprise visit from my parents the following weekend.

An Emotional Rollercoaster: Pregnancy After Miscarriage

I was beginning to relax just a little until it happened again. I went to the bathroom, and fluid poured out of my body. The toilet bowl went bright red. “No, no, not again.” Quinn knew by the tone of my voice what was happening.

He sat on the bed (which in our tiny bedroom is two feet from the bathroom toilet) and held out hope when I had none. I crawled back into bed and waited for the miscarriage to be over.

Clinging to Hope Through Challenges

But the bleeding stopped. It was the tiniest bit of spotting by lunchtime, and by the time I went to bed that night, it was nearly gone. Maybe, just maybe, we were still in it? I laid awake that night with my hand on my belly. “I hope you’re still with us.”

I grew up surrounded by stories of pregnancy loss and hardship. Not a single baby in my direct maternal line was carried to term as far as we know. My parents fought like warriors to get me earthside. A journey like theirs leaves wounds that pass down. It leaves good things, too—resilience, determination, the knowledge deep in my bones that I was so, so, so wanted and loved.

Healing Generational Trauma

I’m doing my best to heal the wounds of loss as I go, but they are nuanced and complicated, and sometimes, it feels like they’re there for a reason—to guard my heart. It’s easier to remain guarded than feel the uncertainty of opening my heart. 

I see mothers full of hope, love, and joy for their pregnancies, names picked out as soon as they find out the sex of their babies. My heart leaps for joy for those mothers.

It’s a beautiful thing to trust your body's ability to sustain life. How incredible to feel the joy of early pregnancy and allow your heart to embrace that little life inside of you without fear.

I want that.

Finding Joy in Pregnancy After Miscarriage

Every day, I feel this love welling up inside me, getting bigger and bigger. I tell myself I won’t buy anything yet, but then I leave the thrift store with 12 onesies, telling myself I can put them in a box and never look at them again if it comes to that.

But then they sit on the coffee table, and I pick them up and look at them, imagining the little sprout that maybe, just maybe, if all goes well, will be wearing them come June.

Becoming "Mom"

I know that healing this wound means becoming a mom who fearlessly names her baby as soon as possible. One who holds no fear or guarding in her body that’s housing this little being.

Maybe by 12 weeks, 16 weeks, or 20 weeks, I’ll be able to be that mom. I’m filled with love and mother energy, but then I find myself googling the earliest a pregnancy is viable. 

Do you ask your 26-week-old to fight for their life? Is that fair? What kind of life can a baby born that early have? The thought of having to make that call makes my breath catch in my throat.

Reaching for Strength and Making Up Milestones

32 weeks feels like a magical land that’s forever away. That’s when I was born—32 weeks 31 years ago. Surely 32 weeks is no big deal in 2024. I’m healthy and strong, I have no lasting impacts of being born prematurely. 

My fear tells me if I make it to 32 weeks, I can name this baby. I can love this baby. I can set up a nursery and allow myself to become a mother.

But deep down beneath the fear, I know the truth. When I drop into my vertical core and find my strength, I’m already a mom. A mom who eats the salad even though she knows it will make her throw up. Even if I only get ½ the nutrients, it’s worth it for baby. A mom who says no to sushi, cocktails, and medium-rare beef, even though those are some of her favorite things.

Embracing Motherhood

I'm usually an absolute superwoman in all things. Now I sit on the couch slowly drinking water and eating saltines until 11 am every day to keep my stomach quiet. I'm letting my community step up for me, even though I'm 100x more comfortable being the community that steps up for others.

I have a middle name picked out… if this little sprout is a girl. I'm a mom who is putting her heart on the line for the possibility of this maybe, just maybe, things will turn out okay.

If you’re going through a miscarriage, you're not alone in your experience. Here is a list of resources that may help.