What are you supposed to do?

It was "May the 4th Be With You" day. I probably would have found some way to watch one of the Star Wars movies, or holler like a Wookie, but instead I spent the first half of the day in the hospital.

I was 8 weeks pregnant and started spotting about five days earlier. I wish I had known sooner that you should see the doctor if you bleed more than three days in a row, all I knew was that spotting was normal. But the spotting slowly increased until on Saturday my mother in law suggested going to a clinic to get checked out. I called the Tricare nurse line because I was scared and didn't know where to go, and at their suggestion to the hospital I went.

There was a lot of waiting and a lot of Chip and Joanna Gaines on our room's TV. After several hours of worrying and cramping, it was the ultrasound that confirmed my suspicions. No heart beat. They didn't have to tell me, I could just tell by the picture on the screen. The doctor warned me that a miscarriage will probably occur soon and to prepare myself for possibly a lot of bleeding as he discharged me. I needed to use the bathroom before leaving and went to the restroom next door to my room. I was peeing when I felt my baby pass. As the hospital was trying to get rid of me my body got rid of my baby. I tried calling my husband's name who was outside the door but I didn't hear a response.

What are you supposed to do when your future hopes and dreams are literally down the toilet? Sitting in a sterilized u-bend of a hospital toilet, out of sight?

What are you supposed to do when you are all alone and you have a miscarriage?

I'll tell you what I did, I cried. I've done a lot of crying in my life (very emotive person here), but every pain and cry I've had in my life paled in comparison to the swelling upheavals that arose from my chest. Oh my poor baby.

I wanted to pass my child in the privacy of my own home, but what kind of dignified burial is the hospital toilet? Even if I had wanted to scoop my baby out and done something better than the john I couldn't because he was completely out of sight (I call my baby a he, don't know why).

I couldn't just flush that toilet and walk away, it would have filled me with pain and regrets that would haunt me. How do you say goodbye to your baby? Your baby that you have to flush down the toilet? All alone?

Weirdly enough I thought of Marie Kondo. Like what I imagine to be millions of others, I watched that show and practiced thanking my items that didn't make the cut in downsizing, finding that it did mitigate the sting of throwing things away. And that's what I did to my baby. I thanked him for giving me that chance to be his mom, for giving me the experience. I tried my best to honor and thank him. And then I flushed.

I am a social worker at heart and try my best to be logical yet understanding, non-judgmental of my feelings and my experience. I didn't want to pin all my hopes and dreams on my pregnancy because I had heard that a vast majority of pregnancies end in a miscarriage. And so I tried to "keep it real." I don't believe I was trying to lie or trick myself into thinking this way. I really wanted to do pregnancy, or the possible complications, well. I wanted to be well. So through all the crying and mourning that day, I tried to be understanding and compassionate towards others that were also mourning, and in the end, take it well. "It's okay. It happens."

After going home and grieving I felt ready to go back to work after a few days, but I was not ready for the roller coaster of emotions when I found it to be so difficult to return to work. It took me about a week to just be there for a whole day. A few weeks to talk about it with all my coworkers. I have a pretty good team at my job and I trust them to be empathetic and kind, so I felt comfortable sharing my struggle with them. And here we are, two months later, and I think I might still be struggling. I honestly cannot tell if it's the miscarriage because we've had a lot of change and upheaval in our lives. Let me just list them here:
1. We got a dog the week before I miscarried. Sorry, not a dog. A PUPPY (what were we thinking, right?)
2. Our contract for our apartment was up a few weeks after the miscarriage, so cue scramble to find something affordable in Utah/Salt Lake counties that offers a six month lease. With an ESA.
3. We move. I didn't take time off of work to do this. That was a bad idea.
4. My husband starts his new job that he puts a lot of overtime into. He goes from being home and available a lot as a student to hardly ever home with an opposite schedule to that of mine.
5. He signs us up for a gym membership (wut).
6. Did I mention that we got a freaking puppy
7. I didn't stop bleeding for about six weeks. Bleeding=no intimacy=tension

My reproductive health seems to be back in order, thank heavens. But often I get annoyed so quickly and easily by my husband and lately I've been thinking that I don't really love him. I've been open about this with him and we'll work through it. But I've been wondering, is the miscarriage still affecting me? I have not felt anger towards any one or anything, I haven't needed something/someone to blame. Is this how my anger in the grieving process manifests itself?

This brings me to the reason why I wrote this ridiculously long post: Has this happened to anyone else? What have been some long term affects of your miscarriage(s)? Did you ever find yourself inexplicably angry/annoyed/out of love with your partner?

For those who took the time to read this thank you, and for those who take the time to respond thank you for helping me feel not so alone.

P.S. I found these to be somewhat helpful:

• Emotional Support After a Miscarriage
• The Best Advice I Received After My Miscarriage
• ‘I’ve Had Multiple Miscarriages—Here’s What I Wish People Knew About Supporting a Friend Going Through One'