Blighted Ovum: Full Story

The full story of my first miscarriage

I started spotting the day before my birthday 4th May 2022 I told myself not to worry unless I kept bleeding the next day as many women can spot at this early stage of six weeks. The bleeding continued the next day and I wept. I wept hard feeling that this was it. I had lost my child; I passed a clot big enough to be the baby. But my mother and husband reassured me it meant nothing, and everything could be fine still. I stopped bleeding the next day and it took another day or two to realize I wanted to get checked out and see if everything was okay.

The doctor had me book an ultrasound straight away. The radiologist said the egg was empty, that my uterus showed I was indeed pregnant, at which point he congratulated me and my husband, but he also said he saw no baby and that there wasn’t necessarily any cause for concern as it was still quite early in the pregnancy to see a baby. It’s important to note that at this point I was feeling pretty sick with all the morning sickness/all-day sickness, sore boobs, achiness and fatigue. Not much different from any other time I had been pregnant. I felt unsatisfied with this result. This wasn't enough. I wanted to see my baby.

So I booked another phone appointment straight after my ultrasound. The GP said she was sorry and was convinced I had miscarried, so much so she wrote it on the forms she sent for me to book appointments with. I was to go for a blood test now to check my HCG levels and another ultrasound in a week’s time. The HCG level results were back the day after I got them done and indicated I was within the realms of a healthy level for how far along I was supposed to be in the pregnancy. This gave me hope, but I couldn’t help but feel apprehensive and like something just wasn’t right. My husband reminded me of how my feelings can often be wrong and lead me astray and that I shouldn’t worry until we know. So, I gave into hope. I hoped and prayed all was fine and I began to believe it.

It was this final ultrasound that showed us what had transpired. I had mistakenly tricked myself into believing all was fine to the extent that I went into the ultrasound alone. My husband was working on an olive harvest. I encouraged him to do so. I don’t drive, so I asked my mother to drive me to the appointment and I decided to take my youngest child, Ethan, along so the eldest two could pick olives with their dad. By the time we got to the clinic, Ethan had fallen asleep in the car, and I was sure it would be best to not wake him and have a screaming baby in a radiology clinic. She reluctantly agreed, having wanted to come with me. I assured her that everything would be fine. So, she stayed in the car at my behest against her better judgment.

First, I had an external scan and then, once we saw no baby again, we went to an internal scan, this gave the very same results while also ruling out any issues and exposing the truth of the matter. He called it a Blighted Ovum. I believe he may have explained what that was or said something more detailed about it, but I retained none of the information. I must have been in shock, because all I can remember is thanking him for his services, whilst keeping my same friendly, smiley demeaner with which I had entered the room minutes ago. He must have realized or known I was struggling because he began to ask me questions about my support and how I was going to get home. I didn’t truly feel the emotions until I reached the door to leave the clinic. I held it in until I got to my mother’s car. I sat and I thought for a moment maybe I would be okay, but then the flood gates opened, and I wept. She asked me what had happened, and I sobbingly told her everything I could remember and then I looked up my diagnosis. A Blighted Ovum is when a baby either never forms or forms and stops forming early on, leaving behind an egg and a pregnancy-ready womb with no baby inside. Things keep growing, hormones keep being produced with no fruit to show for it. I explained this to my mother and then realized I had to call my husband and tell him. My heart sank and I felt so empty. How would I tell him? But there was nothing for me to have worried about – he was sorry for my loss but didn’t feel it for himself.

Then came the long wait. Limbo as I called it. I waited to start bleeding again and for my body to catch up with the fact the baby was not there. It took a while. When I finally did start bleeding it dragged on. I thought on many occasions that it had stopped, and it was over, but time and time again, I was proved wrong as I began to bleed again after 1, 2 and even 3 days of not bleeding. There wasn't a lot of blood - I was thankfully no longer worried about hemorrhaging – but it was more blood than I was used to, regarding periods.

Now I will divulge to you the happenings of Monday 20th June where I delivered the egg. When I say delivered, I mean delivered. I had 45 minutes of labor pain. I’ve had three children, so I know what it feels like to give birth to something. It was horrible: I began to feel uncomfortable, then I moved around as discomfort built. I kept moving until I realized it was getting worse and that it might be what I had heard so many women talk about when they miscarried. I wept as the pain built, while my husband obliviously read books to our children just a few feet away. I tried to be quiet with waves of pain crashing over me, while sobbing on all fours. I pressed my palms into the floor and rocked slightly. My husband came into the living room where I was, after the kids where down, and was immediately by my side, stroking my back, and telling me he was with me, and I could get through this.

I don’t know how long it was from when he came in to when it was over, but I do know that the whole thing lasted about 45 minutes. So, I was on all fours, rocking, and he was stroking my back. As the pain built to a crescendo, there was a pop! – I literally felt a pop, not an audible pop but a sensation only I was aware of. I felt this lump down there, wedged between my vagina and the pad. I wanted to move – to get up and get it off – but the reality of what I had just experienced hit me hard, like a ton of bricks and I began to weep harder. I was ugly crying like in those moments you see in movies, the ones that take you out of the experience because you feel like the actor is overacting. Well, I could feel my husband trying not to laugh. It’s not that he found my pain funny, but he finds the faces people pull while crying funny sometimes – this seems to be a discomfort he has from childhood. You might think this would make me angry or make me cry more but the opposite happened. I laughed too. ‘Why are you laughing?’ my husband asked, and I told him, “Because you’re trying so hard not to.” I loved him so much in that moment because I knew he was fighting his desire to laugh for my sake. I also felt that maybe this was God’s way of breaking the atmosphere.

We got me up after that and he helped me to the bathroom. My body felt weak, but I felt wide awake and energized, I believe this was the natural adrenaline that kicks in during labor. I took of my panties and there it was: the egg. It sat on the pad looking like some kind of alien sack. It was traumatizing to see, and I was so wanting it to be over, but something in me forced me to take a picture. Weird and disgusting, I know, but I felt a need to take a picture. So, I now have a picture of this horrible blood-filled sack on my phone, just waiting to horrify anyone who looks at the photos on my phone. Surprisingly, the bleeding didn’t increase - it wasn’t like the egg was a plug or anything – I just continued bleeding like I had been. A sort of regular bleed more than a normal period for me but not more than normal for most women.

All in all, from the stories I had heard, I would say mine was a success and an easy miscarriage given that no ER visits were necessary, and I managed to pass the egg without any issues.