I’m all about body confidence but when I went through pregnancy loss I felt a different way about my body and it wasn’t good. Just like society pushes what a healthy body looks like there’s also a big push for women equaling mothers and an ideal of what that looks like. And like when your body doesn’t fit with society’s appearance expectations, there’s a lot of emotions when your body doesn’t perform to society’s expectations.
First, let’s just get this out of the way – IT’S NOT FAIR. I don’t know what your personal situation is but I personally know plenty of plus size women who have had successful pregnancies. I personally know women who look like the absolute picture of health who have experienced pregnancy loss or infertility. Yes, there are risks associated with pre-pregnancy conditions. The reality is some women get pregnant easily and carry to term, others struggle to get pregnant, and some are able to get pregnant but not carry to term. Pregnancy loss and infertility happens and it is absolutely not fair. My approach was to take some time to acknowledge the unfairness, wallow in it, and cry and scream it out.
You are not alone!
Did you know that 1 in 4 pregnancies results in a loss? So this thing that you’re hurt and angry about and feel betrayed by your body for is actually quite common. Most women who experience pregnancy loss go on to have successful pregnancies. So, chances are you know many women who have been right where you are. For me, realizing that I was not alone helped me come to terms with what my body went through. Was it sad, yes! Does it make me a failure or a freak, no. You don’t owe anyone your story but don’t feel shame in it either. I found by opening up I received so much support from women who had been where I was. Their support and encouragement showed me the beauty of the other side.
To get back to a positive attitude towards your body you have to go through the phases of grief and face the emotions of your loss. Everyone grieves differently and there is no right way to grieve. I would never ever tell you how you should feel about your loss – but I will walk you through my experience and hope it makes you feel less alone in what you are going through.
Denial
The first phase is Denial. For me this honestly didn’t last long. When I went to the ER I was sure I had kidney stones. So, when they told me I was pregnant I thought oh, I guess they won’t be able to give me a pain killer for these kidney stones. But then I realized the Dr was not smiling and saying congratulations. Due to covid Shaun was not allowed in the ER with me so I was really torn on what to tell him. On one hand I didn’t want to get him excited but on the other I had hope as the nurses were assuring me the further testing they would be doing would be safe for the baby. During the ultra sound I was still convinced everything would be ok. When I got back to the ER more people started coming into the room, tubes and cords hooked to me and consent forms put in front of me. I was told their fears were confirmed and that I had an ectopic pregnancy. (An ectopic pregnancy is when the fetus is in the fallopian tube instead of the uterus.) The only treatment is removal and possible removal of the fallopian tube. And that’s when it hit me – not only was I soon to be not pregnant, I just gave consent to potentially never be pregnant again.
Guilt
At this point I knew I needed to call my husband to let him know what was going on. I felt such deep shame and guilt and for the first time I cried. I was hit so hard by this that my pulse spiked and blood pressure dropped. I was soon surrounded by medical staff stabilizing my condition. It felt like I had let my husband and our family down. When I called Shaun we cried together. I called my Dad and he asked if I was comfortable with what was about to happen but honestly I didn’t have the time to process or a choice. It was surgery or bleed out and die.
Waking up from surgery was incredibly painful, I felt relief to be alive but panicked by all the pain. I found out that not only did I have a ruptured fallopian tube on my right side, but a cyst on my left ovary that also ruptured. This meant I had an incision all the way across my mid section just like a c-section; which explained why I hurt so much. As I made it to recovery I realized that I couldn’t move without incredible pain, I couldn’t even cough or sneeze without pain. Except for Shaun’s post-op visit I was all alone in my pain and guilt despite the fact that every dr that saw me over the next 24 hours said that it looked like we would be able to try again and not one of them questioned why we were TTC.
Bargaining
As I spent time recovering from my pregnancy loss I drove myself crazy thinking about all about the things I could have / should have done. I should have lost weight before trying to conceive, I should have gone to the doctor sooner, I should have known something wasn’t right. Again, keep in mind these were things I told myself and not anything a single medical professional said to me. During this phase I also started thinking about the future. Would I risk going through this experience again? Women who have had an ectopic pregnancy are considered likely to have another. If I took a pregnancy test every week would I be able to catch it before I needed surgery? (most ectopic pregnancies are treated by medication and do not end up in surgery). Is there damage to my remaining fallopian tube during the surgery? Will my body even support a pregnancy? What are the options beyond natural conception? How do we start the process of adoption? Will we be approved to adopt? Will any birth mother choose us or are we looking at more heartbreak and disappointment?
Depression and Anger
Before we got married Shaun and I had talked about starting a family and how to go about it. Adoption was something we have considered for years. I am the type of person who feels more in control when I have a plan. As I sat in bed recovering I really dug deep beyond the surface level adoption research I had previously done and started to feel more optimistic.
However, the depression phase hit when I received a letter denying my fmla leave because I had only been at my job 11 months. Suddenly it didn’t matter how I felt, I had to be back to work the next week as my job was not secure and I was without income. At the same time was easy for me personally to wallow in the depression phase for a bit because I was still recovering. I found myself exhausted sleeping 10 to 12 hours a day, I lost my appetite and barely ate the first week and could only stand one meal a day in addition to smoothies for the next two weeks. I had nothing but time to sit and think about what happened and what was next. I didn’t know if my body didn’t feel right because I was only a few weeks out from a major surgery, because I was depressed or a little bit of both. Also, I had a bit of an infection in my incision. I will spare the details but let’s just say there was lots of ooze which only furthered my depression as I felt like my body was gross.
There was also a lot of stress about the finances of everything and again anger at the unfairness. Not having any leave coverage felt like such a huge step backwards. Now in addition to having to pay medical bills before we could save the $40k+ for adoption we would be losing income. Not we can’t pay our bills loss of income, but when you are facing a big expense every dollar counts. I wallowed in self pity how I had all the pain of a c-section, all the expense of a delivery, but nothing to show for it.
At the end of week three is was like my body flipped a switch. I felt more energetic, I could stand up, sit up and walk around more like my pre-surgery self . I was hungry for the first time in weeks and infection cleared up. Feeling better physically and more like my normal self helped me start to feel better about my body. I started craving water and movement. I think the weeks of bed rest were important for my healing but having the energy to move around more made me feel more in-tuned with my body and it’s needs. While I could tell I wasn’t 100% I was starting to feel like “normal” was possible.
At six weeks my incision was 90% healed and I was allowed to return to my pre-surgery life with a few exceptions. I got my period and my first migraine in six weeks indicating that my hormones were normalizing as well. I still feel a slight pain if there is pressure on my lower abdomen but day to day I feel pretty normal.
My doctor advised waiting longer before trying to conceive again to give my body more time to heal internally. I’m not going to lie, living through limbo is a struggle. To be perfectly honest, I haven’t felt in the mood to have sex at all. My husband has been very supportive of those feelings but it’s another way I can feel sucked into the mindset that something is wrong with me. I have to remind myself on a regular basis that my body’s purpose isn’t only to serve others.
Acceptance
I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about other times I’ve felt pain emotionally and reminded myself how things have usually turned out for the best. Losing a job led to finding a better one. Hard breakups meant I was single and looking when my husband came into my life. Losing my mother obviously doesn’t have a better ending, but it is an experience where I see pain healing over time. My mother used to always say everything happens for a reason and I try to remind myself of this. It’s so hard to keep going on the journey when you are unsure of the destination. I try to have faith that there is a higher power guiding what my plan is and trust that this baby was not part of it for a reason.
Instead of focusing on things I cannot change or understand, what did help was marveling at the ability to heal such a dramatic pregnancy loss. On one hand I lost a fallopian tube and that sucks. On the other hand, my body has a plan B built in. I think with anything in life you can focus on the things you’re not or the things you are. It’s no different with body confidence, even after pregnancy loss. My body may never support a successful pregnancy, and as much as that hurts I accept that. But my body can still hold a baby in it’s arms. My body may not be able to support a nine month pregnancy but it still has a lifetime of hugs to give. There have been so many times when I thought things would never work out when ultimately they did. I think being at peace with what has happened will make the journey ahead easier. I have to hope it will all make sense in the end.
I know that was a lot, this is my longest post but I hope it has made you feel less alone on your own journey. Here’s a little “cheat sheet” of the basic things that helped me these past few months with my pregnancy loss. I hope that they will help you too. Remember that you are not alone and that your pregnancy loss does not define you!
Disclaimer: I am neither a medical professional or licensed counselor. This post is sharing my own personal story and opinions.
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