I never in my life thought this would ever happen to me.

It wasn’t even something I considered. I never thought that I would sit down to write this, crying, telling you guys that I’ve had a miscarriage.

Scott and I decided to start trying in July, after preparing to get pregnant for about a year. We had been eating a preconception diet, taking supplements and eliminating all things toxic from our life. It only took us two months, and we were pregnant after my second cycle. I recently miscarried, just entering my seventh week.

We were so excited to be pregnant.

I tested after Scott left for work and was elated when the test turned positive. I made him a cake that said “THANKS FOR KNOCKING ME UP!”

When he got home and asked if I had tested to see if I was pregnant, I told him I had and that it was negative. A bit later, I told him I made a cake for the blog and I wanted to film him trying it for my YouTube channel. I keep thinking about that damn cake, the video and how happy we were to be pregnant.

At five weeks, I started spotting.

I immediately texted the midwife I’d been talking to and planning to work with throughout the pregnancy. She told me that as long as it was only spotting and I wasn’t having any pain or cramping, I was fine. I was reluctant to believe everything was okay, but after spending hours reading about first-trimester spotting, I tried to accept the idea.

Then I spotted the next day too. And the next, and the next. I spotted for about two weeks. I knew something wasn’t right, but no one would see me so early in my pregnancy. They wouldn’t be able to see a heartbeat anyway, they said.

I finally made an ultrasounds appointment (which would’ve been this week) and had told them about my spotting. They transferred me to the advice nurse who said,

“If you’re only six weeks I don’t know why you’d come in anyway. We don’t normally see women until they’re eight weeks. If we saw women earlier than that, we’d have a ton of women coming in here with non-viable pregnancies.”

Thanks, lady. That’s exactly what I want to hear when I’m fucking terrified and have been spotting for almost two weeks.

The spotting was the worst. Everyone was telling me I had to just wait and see. Spotting isn’t exactly normal, but it’s not uncommon. I wanted to know why it was happening, which no one could tell me. I was just told to wait. For two weeks. Every day I would bleed, and cry. I was so scared; I just wanted to know what was going on. It was incredibly stressful, like slow torture. Your baby might be okay, but something might be wrong.

Something was wrong.

Over the weekend, Scott and I were getting ready to go out with one of our closest friends and his new girlfriend. I had been spotting on and off all day, of course, nothing out of the usual. But it got a bit heavier, and it was red. It still wasn’t a lot, just spotting. But it was more spotting than I had been dealing with and a little bit of cramping.

We went to dinner and told our friend we were expecting. My excitement to tell him was diminished by the fact that I was spotting and in the back of my mind I thought something might be wrong, but we were happy anyway. We had a good time and it was a great distraction from the all-consuming stress that I’d been dealing with.

After we said our goodbyes, when we started walking to the car, I felt a huge rush of blood. As we walked, I felt in seeping down my thighs – I was wearing skinny jeans. I knew something was wrong. I was surprisingly calm and silent. I just wanted to get home.

Once we were there, I could see the amount of blood. I could feel the cramps starting to intensify. And then I started to freak out. Scott called the midwife. I was crying hysterically.

I eventually got on the phone and she asked me to describe what was happening.

“Well,” she said is a very nice, calm voice, “It sounds like you’re having a miscarriage.”

I knew it too. But hearing confirmation – I broke.

She explained to me what would happen and we chatted for a bit. She told me to talk to people about it because then I would see how many of my friends and family had had miscarriages. The truth is, I know very few people that have miscarried. At least in my circle, it’s not very common. Which makes me feel even more isolated.

When I hung up, Scott asked what she said.

“That I’m having a miscarriage.” I cried through hysterical sobs.

He seemed shocked. He asked if I was serious, sounding both a bit panicked and a little bit like it couldn’t be real. He later told me that he never thought I would miscarry, that my spotting was really just normal.

I knew it would be the hardest night of my life, and it was.

We were up until around midnight, and I was hysterical the whole time. I finally cried myself to sleep, only to wake up at 2:30. The pain was too intense and I couldn’t sleep; Scott tried to massage away the back pain while I cried. I was up until around 8:00 the next morning. A lot of the night was spent laying in the darkness silently crying and wondering how in the world this happened to me.

Me, the girl who is constantly preaching about preconception health. The girl who has been on prenatal vitamins for a year. The girl who won’t even go near over the counter meds. The girl who prides herself on eating organic, nutrient-dense foods. I had a miscarriage. Even typing that seems surreal.

The worst of the physical pain has passed. The first night was nothing compared to the second day, in which I didn’t spend one part of the day without heating pads, standing in the shower or taking a bath to help with the pain. It was way more intense than period cramps, and I have pretty severe period cramps. Luckily the severe pain stopped after two days and I was able to sleep.

Moving forward – I’m afraid. I’m afraid of this happening again. I’m afraid of getting pregnant again. I’m afraid of how this will affect me in the weeks to come. Why did this happen to me? How will I work? How will I talk to people? How will I go to social events? I can’t imagine even leaving my house right now. I don’t want to talk to people, not even family. I can’t. Aside from text messages, the only person I’ve spoken to is Scott.

I’m hurt. I’m heartbroken. I’m confused.

I can’t believe this has happened to me.

I’m trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I’m trying to focus on the positives. At least we got pregnant, and it only took two cycles. At least I wasn’t further along in the pregnancy. At least I’m still young. At least I have an incredibly supportive and loving husband who’s been amazing throughout this, from spotting to actually losing the baby.

And like my husband told me, “We’ll try again and we’ll succeed. Because we’re not fucking quitters.”

Please allow me some time as I heal from this.

Emails, comments, and questions may go unanswered for a little bit. If you’ve dealt with something similar, please feel free to reach out, comment or email to share your story. One of the main reasons I’m sharing this is because I feel that miscarriage is largely a taboo topic, something women are expected to suffer through in silence. I’m sharing this in part to inspire other women who want to talk about their miscarriages but feel that they can’t. I may not be able to respond for a bit, but I’m happy to listen.

Lots of love.