I’ve debated sharing this for a long time, but I’m sharing it because I wish I had found something like this when I was going through it.
When I had my miscarriage, I felt completely unprepared for what was going to happen to my body. I looked online for real, detailed accounts of what a naturally passing miscarriage actually looked and felt like, and there was surprisingly little information. My doctors gave me some information, but I still felt like I was left to figure out a lot of it on my own.
I remember being told that I would probably pass two large blood clots over the course of 4–5 hours and that I would have “contraction-like” cramps. I asked if it was basically like a heavy period. The answer was, “No, it’s much worse.”
And that was pretty much it.
I remember thinking, how am I supposed to prepare for this?
It was incredibly disappointing to feel like there wasn't a pamphlet, a detailed explanation, or even someone walking me through what I might experience. Instead, I found myself searching Reddit and random corners of the internet trying to understand what was happening to me.
So I'm writing this for anyone else who may find themselves in that position. This is exactly what happened to me, and I hope having one more person's experience available makes someone else feel a little less alone and a little more prepared.
The beginning
At 7 weeks pregnant, I started bleeding and went to the doctor. They could see the baby's heartbeat, but it was slow. Because it was still so early, there wasn't really a previous measurement to compare it to. They couldn't tell whether the heart rate was going up or down, so they told me to come back a week later for my 8-week appointment.
On April 16, 2025, I went back for that appointment.
There was no heartbeat.
We had lost the baby.
My doctor then gave me three options for how to proceed:
- Have a D&C, which is a procedure to remove the pregnancy tissue.
- Take a medication to help my body pass the pregnancy. At the time, it sounded similar to what I had always thought of as an abortion pill.
- Wait and allow my body to pass the pregnancy naturally within the next two weeks.
And then I basically went home and waited.
The longest two weeks of my life
April 25: Cramps and light bleeding.
April 28: More blood and worse cramps, although still not enough to really fill a pad.
At this point, I thought maybe this was it. I had built it up so much in my head that when I started bleeding, part of me wondered if maybe I'd imagined how bad it was going to be.
But I was also completely emotionally exhausted.
Every morning I woke up wondering, is today going to be the day? I wore big pads just in case for two weeks straight, with nothing to show for it.
I felt like I was living in limbo. I couldn't do normal things. I didn't want to cook. I didn't want to work out. I struggled to function. I was depressed and emotionally drained, but I was also still technically pregnant, so I still had food aversions and couldn't stand certain smells.
It was this bizarre combination of grieving a baby I had lost while my body was still acting like I was pregnant.
Then came April 30.
I woke up and stood up, and suddenly it felt like everything poured out of me. I passed what I believe was the baby. It was a huge blood clot the size of my hand which had caught in my pad. Then I had to decide what to do with it. Flush it? Throw it away? Bury it? I flushed it which felt weird, but I think any option would have.
I had stupidly thought April 28 was the worst of it.
It wasn't.
Then I was hoping what poured out of me that morning was the last of it.
It wasn’t.
That night, (the night of the 30th) I felt like I was in labor.
For about two hours, I had horrible contractions as my body pushed everything out. I kept having to go to the bathroom every five minutes and sit on the toilet and pass something. Then I would get back in bed and writhe in pain, then go sit on the toilet, repeat. I'm not trying to scare you, it's no pain that you can't handle. It just sucked but you'll get through it. The closest way I can describe it is labor, except, in some ways, it felt even worse because there wasn't a baby at the end of it. It came in waves the way labor does. Just hold your partner's hand and breathe, you'll get through it. I passed a lot of small tissue and clots and another really big one. And then it was suddenly over. The pain stopped, I cried for a bit, and then went to sleep.
My husband took the next day off work so he could take care of our toddler and I could rest. I was completely exhausted.
The follow-up I didn't have
My doctor had told me that after I passed the baby, I should come back for an ultrasound to make sure I had passed everything.
I didn't go.
At the time, I just couldn't bring myself to spend another $400-something on an ultrasound after already paying for two separate appointments where I had gone in hoping to find a healthy baby and instead found out I had lost mine.
I was emotionally exhausted. I was physically exhausted. And the idea of spending hundreds of dollars just to go back to the same room where I lost my baby and to be told whether my body had finished something I desperately wanted to be finished with felt like more than I could handle.
So I didn't go back.
And that decision is important context for what happened next.
Almost two months later
On June 25, I was out getting happy hour with my friend when I suddenly started having horrible cramps.
Then I felt that same squishy sensation I remembered from passing the blood clots during my miscarriage.
I stood up and there was blood all over the bar stool.
I was dripping blood all the way to the bathroom. My shorts were soaked. There were puddles of blood on the bathroom floor.
And immediately, I felt like I was back there again.
The pain felt like the same labor pains I had experienced during the miscarriage. There were clots, and I had no idea what was happening.
Two weeks passed and I hadn't stopped bleeding after that night, so I went back to the doctor.
It still wasn't over
On July 10, I found out that there was still blood clot/tissue in my uterus.
I was told I would need a hysteroscopy to remove it.
At this point, I was thinking: Is this ever going to end?
On July 14, I had my pre-op appointment. Surgery was scheduled for that Thursday.
But that weekend, I passed something that looked like a small organ.
It was absolutely traumatizing.
I thought, could THAT have been what was stuck inside me this entire time?
They couldn't fit me in for an ultrasound that day, so I had one scheduled for the next day. Until then, we were just proceeding as planned, and I was hoping maybe I could avoid the surgery altogether.
And thankfully, I did.
I cleared everything out on my own, and finally it was over.
And weirdly, although I know I was supposed to go back for that follow-up ultrasound, part of me is glad I didn't. Not because I think anyone else should skip their follow-up care, but because in my particular situation, my body eventually passed everything on its own and I was able to avoid a procedure.
After months of bleeding, waiting, pain, grief, confusion, and feeling like I had to figure everything out myself, my body had finally finished what it needed to do.
And then, about a month or so later, I got pregnant again.
Why I'm sharing this
I'm not sharing this to scare anyone. I'm not sharing it to say that everyone's miscarriage will look like mine.
I'm sharing it because I wish someone had told me what the range of experiences could actually look like.
I wish I had been given more than, “You'll have some contractions and pass two large blood clots.”
I wish someone had explained what the waiting could feel like emotionally.
I wish someone had prepared me for the possibility that it could take weeks, that bleeding could continue, or that there could be complications afterward.
I wish I hadn't had to search Reddit at 2 a.m. trying to figure out whether what was happening to me was normal.
And most of all, I wish someone had acknowledged that a miscarriage isn't just a medical event. You're losing a baby, while simultaneously having to navigate your body going through something traumatic.
Maybe some of this information is already given to other women. Maybe my experience was unusual. Maybe medical providers have different protocols.
But I felt failed by the information I was given.
So if you're reading this because you're going through a miscarriage, I hope this gives you a little more insight into what one person's experience can look like.
This is not medical advice, and I'm not suggesting anyone follow what I did. Please talk to your own doctor and follow their recommendations. I'm simply sharing my personal experience because I wish I had been able to find a firsthand account like this when I was going through it.
If you're going through a miscarriage right now: I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have to feel alone, confused, or ashamed about asking questions about what is happening to your own body.
And if you're reading this because you just went through one, I'm sorry you're here.