A Miscarriage Story | Indie Birth

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A Miscarriage Story

February 8, 2014

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We're Maryn + Margo

We are mamas and birth workers who decided to do birth differently– and bring others along with us. We are kind, fun to work with, and great at (lovingly) calling people on their bullshit. With 12 children and 18 years of midwifery between us, we’ve learned a thing or two along the way, and Indie Birth is our space to share it all with you.

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***Hundreds of women every day come here to read this story. You are not alone, dear one. And if you need more support, we do offer virtual midwifery sessions that include miscarriage support, preconception support and holding space for pregnancy loss. The weeks and months after miscarriage ARE a postpartum (literally meaning “after pregnancy”) time and should be honored and supported as such. You can read more about sessions with us and book a time here.

I have a folder on my computer called “1st Pregnancy” and it is full of things that still make me sad. Pictures of my growing belly, a video of us telling our family the news that we were pregnant, this story, and the pictures we took from the miscarriage I had in February 2013. I was a student of traditional midwifery at the time (I am now a midwife), so my take on the experience, and the details I share may be different than most miscarriage stories. It is really long, really honest, and really raw, but I wanted to share it in its entirety, both to honor my experience, to share it with others that are going through similar stories themselves, and for those that support women (friends or clients) that are experiencing a pregnancy loss. This story was written in the days after the miscarriage, and I am thankful that I took the time and energy to put it all down. I hope that this story can serve as a resource for women going through pregnancy and baby losses, and that we at Indie Birth can provide support for these experiences as well.

So, read on if you dare [there are also graphic photos of the tissues I passed at the bottom of the page]. The story starts on February 6th, 2013. I was almost 9 weeks pregnant (for the first time), planning a move across the country, and had already shared the happy news with our families.

Watercolor by Erika Hastings who you can find at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/

Watercolor by Erika Hastings who you can find at http://mudspice.wordpress.com/

I had just gotten back from a walk around the neighborhood, and I got myself together to go study at a coffee shop for the day. I was feeling mad about an argument Russell and I had the night before, and wanted to get some space. I went to the bathroom before leaving, and when I wiped there was blood, dark brownish red blood. I remember saying “this is not good… oh my god… this is not good.” Then I starting sobbing (the first of many times over the coming days) and Russell asked what it meant, if it was going to be ok, what to do. I said I would just relax and see what happened, but I think deep down I knew what was coming. I got in bed and read miscarriage chapters in my midwifery books to see if I could reassure myself. The spotting continued through the day, and I got in contact with Maryn who happened to already be across the country where we were headed a few weeks later. We waited and watched, and that night decided to go into the ER just to see if I could get a quick ultrasound. They don’t do ultrasounds at night (which the people did not tell me on the phone earlier), so we picked up some dinner and went home. The bleeding was heavier, more like a flow, and I thought I had what felt like a few cramps. I cried and cried, thinking I was going to have to be up all night, delirious, losing my baby. I took a lavender and Epsom salt bath like I had gotten accustomed to since getting pregnant, and Russell sat with me while I calmed down. When nothing more happened, we eventually went to sleep, but I slept badly, waking up every hour or two to see how much I was bleeding. It was back to light spotting which seemed promising. I was hoping we were in the clear and that this would all just be a bad memory soon.

The next day, the bleeding got progressively less, until at lunch time it was almost nothing, and was light pinkish brown. I was still resting in bed, and still wanting to go get an ultrasound to get some more information (I had arranged an appointment for 2pm) but I felt like it was possible that this was all just a fluke, and I’d still be happily pregnant in the coming days. Russell went out to get some helpful herbs, and I took some crampbark and false unicorn root in the hopes that it would put an end to whatever was going on.

Then, as we were getting ready to leave for the ultrasound appointment, I started having some definite discomfort, and felt myself start bleeding/releasing more. When I checked, it was bright red again, and more than the evening before. We still decided to go to the ultrasound, because even if we were losing the baby, I wanted to know when they had stopped developing for peace of mind, and to know what to expect as far as what would come out. Russell was still hopeful on the way to the appointment, but I knew something was wrong, and I was trying to keep from completely losing my mind until after the appointment. I could feel myself holding everything in (physically and emotionally) as best I could, and the sensation was like a dam bursting and me trying to plug it back up. I remember laying the seat back and looking out the window while we were driving, feeling numb, and not sure I had the tools to get through any of this. My stomach felt hot and full of acid from holding in the worry I had that this would be the last day of my pregnancy.

After waiting an excruciatingly long 15 minutes with a full bladder (as per their request), while bleeding, and trying not to sob in the waiting room, the ultrasound tech came and got us. It was amazing to see my uterus on the screen, and the gestational sac quickly came into focus. I knew immediately that the baby hadn’t made it. She measured it, and showed us the tiny embryo inside it, only ½ a centimeter long, with its yolk sac still visible. The baby had no heart beat and had stopped developing at about 6 weeks.

She kept pointing things out on the screen, but I felt like I was a mile under water, not hearing anything. I felt my uterus start cramping and bleeding more heavily, and I put all my energy into watching the screen, trying to soak in what I could about the life this baby had had in there. Seeing the screen was like looking into outer space, a world completely apart from ours, but not any less real. And though we could see and measure and guess, this place was something obviously beyond our comprehension, so magical and mysterious. So simple. A nice place to spend some time I think.

The tech left Russell and I alone so I could get dressed and get my things together. We both were crying, and just wanted to get out of there. We called Maryn on the way home to let her know, since she’d been helping us through the whole experience so far, and it looked like we would be continuing to need her help for a little longer. I was having small cramps that felt sharp in my cervix, not menstrual like, as I had been expecting.

When we got home, Russell asked me what I wanted to do, and I wanted to get into comfortable clothes. We sat in bed for a little bit, and he suggested a movie, but that sounded terrible. If I had to be doing this awful thing, I just wanted to be up doing it, not pretending like it wasn’t happening. His dad came by to drop off a load of wood, so Russell went to help him. I was pacing around, feeling shaky, nervous and not sure what to do with myself. I took some Lobelia to help me open up and let everything out. I kept trying to remind myself to stay present, and make this the most respectful and sacred version of this shitty thing it could be. So I focused back in, and decided I wanted to clean up the bathroom and set up a small alter in there, since I figured that was where I would be passing the baby. I wiped down the counters first. Then I gathered some sparkly winter solstice tea candles I had made (baby happened to be conceived on the solstice), a tall red candle in glass that I had burned when inviting the baby into our lives through meditation, a beautiful piece of birth art, and Russell’s silver baby bracelet. Once this was set up, and Russell came back from helping his dad outside, I shakily lit the candles, tears streaming down my face, even though I thought it might be too early to be feeling so dramatic about everything if I was going to have to feel this way for another 12 or 24 or 48 hours or something. Then, not knowing what else to do, I just cried and cried. I wailed, I sobbed, I felt my heart break in my chest. I was crumpled in a heap next to the bathtub, and Russell came in and sat behind me and held me, and stroked my hair until I had caught my breath. Then I had the first substantial cramp across my whole abdomen from hip to hip, and felt myself gush some blood onto the cloth I was using as a pad (minus the emotional distress, the cramp and the gush weren’t too unlike a heavy period day for me). This made me cry more, not because it hurt, but because it was really happening, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

A few minutes later I felt another coming, and told Russell I wanted the bowl we had set aside for me to use so I wouldn’t risk passing the baby into the toilet. He seemed to think I should just sit on the toilet since we had just gotten home, and I think he was expecting a longer affair (so was I though), but I said no, I wanted the bowl. So I quickly got my pants off and sat on the bowl, kneeling on my right knee, with my left knee up. [This is the position I always have pictured myself giving birth in] After the cramp/contraction was over, I wanted to look in the bowl before another one came, just to note how much blood I was losing. And surprisingly, there in the bowl was the tiny gestational sac that had housed our tiny little baby, and it was perfect and whole and shiny white (about 2.5 cm in diameter). I tenderly held it in my hands for a few minutes, looking it over gently, smiling, and amazed that Russell and I had created this strange little thing, seemingly out of thin air. We put it in a glass bowl so I could look at it more later and I had Russell take a picture to send to Maryn so we could be sure that was what we were looking for.

I stayed over the bowl a little longer until I felt like it had ended and then got up to get my clothes back on. I swear it was just like a birth scene. Blood dripping on the ground, bloody toilet seat and bowl, maybe even a mini-oxytocin rush even (I wouldn’t have guessed I would smile at the sight of the tiny gestational sac). [All things that might have made this a scary experience if I hadn’t seen similar scenes before, and been confident that I was ok] Then I had a surge of adrenaline – I felt like I had accomplished this task with dignity, and was feeling proud of the job I had done, and was, of course, also not quite in my right mind.

Russell and I agreed we wanted to have a burial ceremony before dark, but first I wanted to open up the tiny sac to see if I could see the embryo (alledgedly.45 centimeters long, and still with a yolk sac). I looked and looked, but couldn’t see anything, which is normal for that early of a gestation (even though they identified the embryo on ultrasound), but I still felt sad that I’d never really get to see the tiny baby. I later learned that putting the tissue in saline or water helps slow down the drying process, and might have made it more possible to see the baby.

Then Russell and I brought the baby outside to find a special spot in the garden. We buried the baby next to a sweet little flowering violet, the only flowering plant in the yard, in a spot right outside our front door that we can see from our kitchen. We said a few words, although we were both too distraught to really say anything poetic. We wished the spirit a safe journey and invited it to come back to us again either in spirit or physical form if it wants to. We said we were very sad that they wouldn’t be joining us for longer, but that we were grateful for the time we had had together, and grateful for the lessons we had learned. Then we covered the tiny sac with dirt and stood up to look. We turned to go back inside, but I started crying again and said I thought the baby really deserved a name. Russell sort of jokingly said how about Violet, and I said it was perfect, and then we both cried together, standing there for a long time.

A little later, before dinner, I had some more cramps and went to the bathroom and passed a huge clot that also had some tissue in it. I wasn’t sure what it was (later figured out that it was part of the membranes of the bag of waters). Then I felt bad that I had moved on so quickly to the next step, when I wasn’t really done with the first (I got this same lesson two more times after this in the following days, so maybe I’ve learned it by now).

That evening was hard. Trying to eat something nourishing even though I didn’t feel hungry. We finished watching a movie, but I felt guilty that I was trying to distract myself. I got a wicked migraine, probably from the huge hormone shift plus all the crying, and my cramps hadn’t really stopped. We moved the tall red candle into our room where we let it keep burning, and every time I woke up during the night, the candle comforted me back to sleep. It all still felt surreal, and Russell was amazing at comforting me, and listening to me talk through how I was feeling.

Waking up the next morning was the hardest part of the whole journey. Knowing that is was real, that I didn’t dream it, and that now I would have to get through the day was really awful. I didn’t know how to start, or what to do, or what not to do. My head still hurt and I was still uncomfortable. I felt sad that my belly already felt smaller, and my breasts were already back to normal, too. I felt jipped. My legs were also incredibly sore, probably from the squatting I had done over the bowl when passing the baby. It was a cloudy day. Maryn checked on me again and had some great suggestions for nourishing, healing ideas which helped me regroup. Russell and I took a short walk around the neighborhood. We went to Wisdom of the Earth to get some essences – Clary Sage and Geranium, and then a friend working there suggesting Violet, which of course made me cry, and seemed very appropriate. Then I picked up some movies to watch during the day, and tucked back into bed. I ate leftovers for lunch, and then felt like the cramps were really hurting again. I thought a bath would feel good, so Russell helped me run one. I got in and it did feel good, but I was still cramping. I felt like I should feel inside, curious about if my cervix was closed back up or not, so I did. I could feel something fibrous and ridged hanging out of the cervical os, which freaked me out. My natural instinct was to gently pull on it, but I felt again to make sure of what I was feeling. It was definitely something, and after 2 or 3 gentle pulls I pulled out what appeared to be a tiny placenta (around 2pm). I got out shortly after and put it in water so it wouldn’t dry out like the gestational sac had. I called Russell over to look at it, and called Maryn again to ask her about it too. We took some pictures of it and then buried it next in the same spot in the garden after I got dressed. [I learned in Anne Frye’s Holistic Midwifery Volume 1 that that is a common pattern, for the sac to come out first, and then the placenta a day or more later since it is so firmly implanted at that point]. That was the second time I realized I was in shock and hadn’t been paying enough attention in the rush to put this all behind me, thinking this was all over, when really I needed to be focused on myself, resting, and paying attention to what I needed.

That night, I had the first full nights uninterrupted sleep I’d had in months. No getting up to pee, no scary or weird memorable dreams. Just peaceful sleep, and for that I’m grateful. We woke up to snow on the ground and in the sky. I felt my belly even smaller than the day before. But I cried a little less that morning, and every morning after. I looked out the window at the snowy little spot where we had buried our first baby and knew everything would be ok, even if I was going to carry this sad memory forever. The red candle burned next to the small woodstove in our bedroom as I wrote this story down. It is the same candle I lit when I invited the being into our lives, and I let it burn until it went out, sometime during the third night after passing the baby. So, we honor this little being and the experience they have shared with us, and the lessons we have learned. This baby made us a family, and inspired Russell and I to finally change our last names to our new family name. I do my best to surrender to all of it, and somehow I know something sweet still lies ahead for us.

Aperture-3

This is the gestational sac, which was the first tissue to come out. I left it like this in the fridge, and it became sticky by the time I wanted to look at it a few hours later. I opened the sac and looked for the baby, but either it was too small, or had deteriorated both in the weeks before the loss, and in the hours in the air.

This is part of the membranes, which came out a few hours after the gestational sac. They were in a tube sort of shape and were surrounding in clots which I removed before the photo was taken.

Aperture-1-1

This is the small placenta. It was slightly larger than the sac in diameter, and had a distinctly bumpy, rough feel to it on one side, and it was smooth on the other side, just like a full term placenta. It came out 24 hours after the gestational sac. I was still having cramps, and decided to feel inside to see what my cervix was doing, and this was hanging out of my os by about a cm or so. I gently pulled on it and it came out in one piece.

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  1. AT says:

    Dear Margo,
    Thank you for sharing your story.

    I have no words to console you for such a loss. You and Russell seem to have cultivated a deep and rich practice of acceptance, which seems to have helped you console yourselves.

    I was moved reading how you surrendered Violet to where she came, and at each choice of acceptance (vs blame or anger) you and Russell along the way.

    You deeply inspire me as to how I can hold change with ease and grace. Thank you for this.

    Wishing you continued peace and wellness.

  2. Margo Nelson says:

    Thank you! I am so glad that our story touched you, There have certainly been less graceful moments, but I am grateful that we were able to at least start the process from a place of acceptance and mindfulness, and honor our baby in that way <3

  3. Elizabeth says:

    Thank you for sharing your story of loss and pain. Im 43 & about 6/7weeks and have been spotting for about a week and it’s gotten worse, I saw dr yesterday friday and the ultrasound still showed sack she said I’m still pregnate, the day before I saw her blood was heavy and I felt a big dark clot came out and I saw it, was sure I miscarry, than yesterday blood was very light and today Saturday very heavy blood and many small blood clots, I looked in Internet and found your story, I cried as to what I’m feeling is very painful physically and emtionally and feel like baby won’t make it 🙁 so your story is part of my journey and helping me to accept this if it is a going to be a loss for me. Thank you

  4. Jen says:

    Thank you so much for sharing your experience I had searched the web high and low trying to find pictures so I could match up what was comin out of my body and if it was normal or okay and this really gave me closure. I had a miscarriage in June and that was rough it was at 10 weeks and the last day of my vacation I just started dumping blood like no tomorrow and I was that one person who held up the whole plane but I explained to them what was happening and they gave me a whole row to myself right next to the bathrooms and I’m 5’1″ so that row made it so I could sleep through the flight which was amazing. Yet the other day I found out that my pregnancy wasnt a baby but a tumor (molar pregnancy) which is usually taken out by D&C and I had a previous tumor removed by D&C which the doctor scraped too well and made the walls of my uterus too smooth for a baby to attach to thus the miscarriage even though I was doing everything in my power to keep it healthy and safe. I had to take the misoprostil drug for it to evacuate and yeah it was a tumor that if I didn’t remove would of killed me but I still felt terrible like it was my fault for the D&C because when I got it I was only 18 and didn’t know I had family support and that there were other options and now I am worried I won’t ever get the three kids I desperately want… Thanks so much for the pictures it helped me immensely and helped me not be so scared or worried I highly appreciate all you had to say as well, because the hormone changes are so intense and men don’t really understand it and the fear that accompanies it so once again thanks for sharing it has touched more people than you can imagine ; ) also good luck and hope you have a wonderful family when the time comes.

  5. Amy says:

    Thank you for your story and photos. I’m experiencing the same thing at this very moment. It’s been traumatic physically and mentally. I passed the gestational sac today. I just have to trust that my body did the right thing. We will recover and try again but right now it’s a sad time.

  6. Elizabeth says:

    I’m experiencing miscarriage right now and just waiting for it to become what you described is excruciating in itself. I’m praying to be able to see my baby one time and I can’t explain how much your photos and story are helping me right now. Thank you thank you thank you for sharing this

  7. Char says:

    I lost my baby at 7 weeks yesterday and my heart is broken. Every time I passed large clots or tissue I sobbed uncontrollably not wanting to believe I was having a miscarriage . I examined everything and was relived (if I can use that word) that I got to see and hold my baby. He was perfect. Tiny but perfect. I’m truly grateful for this as it is helping me to heal. I have psos so conceiving is a up hill battle but I am lucky as I have a healthy, happy, beautiful 2 year old. I have not used contraception in 8 years and have only had the 2 pregnancies so this baby was much longed for and loved right from the moment he was conceived :”(

  8. Maryn Green says:

    Sending love, Char.

  9. April says:

    Thank you for sharing your story. Really helped me as I’m laying in bed going thru the same thing. Hope all is well with you.

  10. Carrie says:

    Thank you so much for sharing your story. I just went through a miscarriage at 6 1/2 weeks and am trying to process it. The second day of bleeding and cramping I passed 2 pieces of tissue that i thought looked like a placenta. After looking at your pictures and reading the description, it sounds like they were placenta. It’s helpful to see the steps to process everything.

  11. Margo Blackstone says:

    I’m glad this was useful to you Carrie. Big hugs as you go through this time <3

  12. Fay says:

    Hi, I’m so incredibly sorry for your loss.
    I have been through a miscarriage in the last week, after expecting it for two weeks after our scan. Your account of your experience was so helpful to read, before and after I miscarried. Thankyou for giving so much detail, including pictures as it made me feel slightly as though I knew what to expect.
    Thankyou again xxx

  13. Terry says:

    Thank you for sharing your story, as I have experienced the same thing over the course of the last few days. May God bless you and your family.

  14. JUDY MCGUIRK says:

    Thank you for sharing your story. Your photos answered a question that I’ve had for 30 years. I was 2 months late for my period and suspected that I was pregnant when I started lightly spotting one day. I would have normally thought that I had just been late, but Ijust didn’t feel quite right. I went to the doctor the next day who confirmed that I was pregnant, but due to spotting, he ordered an ultrasound and put me on complete bed rest. When my doctor called with the test results, he told me that I needed to sit down before he told me, then said, “There’s two?” Not understanding, I asked, “Two what? He laughed and said 2 babies! He scheduled me for an appointment, and told me complete bedrest, explaining that many times one twin will abort, so if I were to pass anything fleshy to save it and meet him at ER with it. Well, I ended up passing what I now realize was the entire gestational sac and placenta all at once. My doctor sadly informed me that the twins had been identical set, and I’d lost both of them. This may sound stupid, but I had assumed the babies were inside that gray ball of stuff that I’d passed, but I wasn’t sure and I had never asked anyone but friends, who have all looked at me like I’d lost my mind, so now I assume that it’s not as common to be the entire sac. I’d miscarried once before this, but it had come out in small pieces. Again, thank you, and God Bless you and our Angel Babies!

  15. Jaelle says:

    First of all- I was hoping you would name the baby Violet ????
    I want to thank you for sharing your story. My first miscarriage happened and I didn’t even understand what it was because my doctor was convinced I was having a molar pregnancy. I should have been only 5 weeks pregnant according to my records ( I kept track of period dates and even dates when we made love because we were trying for a baby) yet when he checked me – he said it felt like 8 to 10 weeks. So he said I must have miscalculated but that they would do a quick ultrasound and also bloodwork for hcg level. The ultrasound showed nothing basically- a big dark void. My hcg came back double what it was suppsed to be so he was convinced it was molar pregnancy. He made appt for d and c that Friday but I just knew I KNEW that there was a baby in there. I called them back the next day and asked for one more ultrasound to be sure- before I had surgery. They said they would ask the dr. He actually called me back himself which surprised me – and he basically told me that he felt if we did another ultrasound it would make me get my hopes up and that it would be damaging to me emotionally because there never was a baby- it was a chemical pregnancy. I told him I appreciated his concern for me but that I would pay for an ultrasound out of pocket and that I would not have a d and c until I had one more ultrasound confirming things. He said I could come in Thursday- have ultrasound then be at surgery center Friday morning for d and c. My husband had to work that Thursday- and there was no one to cover for him but I told him it would be ok because I knew our baby was in me and safe. I’m sure everyone thought I was nuts! During the ultrasound, the tech said to give her a minute she wanted the dr to come in and look at something just to be on the safe side- my dr came in sat down and started moving the wand and said I can’t believe this. There was my Sydney- her beautiful strong 5 week old heart beating strong! I had been pregnant with twins- that’s why hcg level double and uterus double size. During first ultrasound, the baby that passed away was already beginning to reabsorb so it just kind of looked like a blob of nothing for lack of better term- and he ( they were fraternal and both me and hubby had dreams he was a boy) was blocking Sydney- so she was behind him and all the ultrasound showed was what appeared to be nothing. The dr apologized so much and even got teary eyed. Everyone was congratulating me that it was a real pregnancy with a baby with a strong heartbeat- which I knew all along ???? my husband and I both grieved for our little boy tho and still miss him today. Also we never told syd she was a twin- and starting at age 4 she became obsessed with twins and would tell everyone she had a twin ???? so of course we told her and she said duh she knew already lol. I didn’t have any symptoms of miscarrying him. But in 2011 while almost 12 weeks pregnant with an incredible surprise gift- I began miscarrying. The drs basically just said yeah you can have d and c or do meds or just wait and see- it will be like a really heavy period with big clots but everything should be fine etc.. that was it. No instructions except come back after I was done so they could do ultrasound to make sure everything passed. I had chosen to let things happen naturally. I obsessively searched the internet for any little morsel of information about what to expect, what it would feel like, what to be looking for that would signal I needed to go to hospital, how long it would take, etc- etc. Etc. I found like you said, a bunch of medical websites that explained the definition of a miscarriage and then I found one site that had pictures of what the baby would look like at each weeks- but nothing about the fact that it would be in a sac etc. And could basically just look like a blood clot etc.. my experience was very very similar to yours. We buried her ( I had dreams again and so did my sweet autistic daughter- she had dreams it was a girl who looked like her- which was crazy because I had the same dreams- a girl that looked like Marlee. ) we buried her under our apple tree because I had read something once about burying your placenta under an apple tree or something I couldn’t remember but knew it was a positive thing. We named her Everly after the Everly Brothers who have a song called dream- since we had so many dreams about her. Plus all 3 of my living kids have names that have to do with music. I don’t understand why it is so taboo to talk about and even grieve for a miscarriage. It makes no sense to me especially since its unfortunately a sort of common thing. I was so happy to come across your beautifully written post – this is what other mamas need when they are going through the same thing and searching desperately to see if anyone else has gone through this and what happened and what was it like etc? Just like I was comforted by birth stories while pregnant- I was searching desperately for miscarriage stories so that I would know what to expect and also for that feeling of knowing im not the only one that has been through this. So it really means a lot to me that you have shared this with the world through the internet. Im sorry such a long comment!! I wish I could convey how thankful I am for this – my heart is full of love and empathy for all mothers who go through this and it makes me happy to think that they might find your post and feel some comfort by it. ❤❤❤ – jl

  16. RD says:

    Thank you thank you thank you. I’m going through a miss carriage right now and I left the ER not knowing what to expect. All they said was “follow-up with your doctor in 2-3 days”. I just passed something that felt similar to pushing out a baby only much smaller (I have had two vaginal births) I was so confused and searched the internet and your story was the only one that answered my question. Doctors, hospitals, midwives should really have this info available to women. I know that not all miscarriage are the same but having one idea of what it can be like is so helpful during a already emotional and painful time. Thank you again!

  17. Fee says:

    Hi there. I just had a miscarriage as well and im still bleeding. I was in the middle of wiping until i saw a red circular blood clot came out of me. I was unsure what it was so i started googling and came across this page.

    Im wondering when you saw the gestational sac, was it first covered in blood and you cleaned it off or was it already like that?

  18. Liz says:

    Thank you for sharing your story, including your photos. I miscarried two days ago. Have never felt more unprepared for something in my entire life. I had been told by my midwife that my miscarriage would be like a heavy period. That was pretty much the sum of the information provided to me. In actuality, it was giving birth to a tiny baby – contractions, labor pains, and lots of tears included. I miscarried alone, into a toilet full of blood – where I ended up reaching in and pulling out the gestational sac and tissue membrane (which I had no idea what this was until I saw your photos, thank you), so that I could bury this tiny little spirit in the garden. I wish someone had prepared me better. Maybe had suggested using a bowl, instead of the toilet. Maybe had told me it was going to be hard, but I would be OK. I felt traumatized after and angry at our healthcare system. Why can’t we provide women with valid and useful information?!
    Your website and your story was such a relief. Reading a similar story – one I could relate to and feel like what I went through was normal. I just want to thank you from the bottom of my (currently, very sad) heart.

  19. Margo Blackstone says:

    Hi Liz,

    Sending you lots of love right now. I’m so glad that my story and photos were able to help you. When you are feeling up to it, I really encourage you to share exactly what you shared here with your midwife so that she can learn! Women deserve honesty, preparation and support during loss. I offer to come be with my clients when they are miscarrying since it can be really scary and sad to be alone <3

  20. Margo Blackstone says:

    Mine looked just like that, but I think it can look a variety of ways, depending on if it was surrounded by blood, or not.

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Indie Birth offers radical midwifery perspectives and resources for powerful birthing women and aspiring birth workers. We provide educational courses, inspirational content, and coaching.

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