My Pregnancy Test Was Positive—A Gut Feeling Revealed Something Terrible

I felt like I was on top of the world. I was married to my loving husband and together, we had an amazing 17-month-old son whom we both adored. My dream of having kids close in age was about to become a reality, and I was so excited to learn that I was pregnant with my second child.

After my first healthy, stress-free pregnancy, I couldn't wait for my son to have a little sister or brother. My husband, Eli, jumped up and down with joy when we saw the pregnancy test was positive.

In the back of my head, I knew that miscarriage was a possibility, but I didn't believe it could happen to me.

And then it did.

When I was eight weeks pregnant, I had my first ultrasound. I was told that my baby had a strong heartbeat. I brought up that I had some light spotting, but the doctor told me not to worry.

"Don't worry," she said. "That's normal. It happens."

I breathed a sigh of relief, but I wasn't entirely convinced. My gut feeling turned out to be right.

I lightly bled for two weeks straight. When the blood suddenly became darker and redder, I reached out to my doctor's office to make an appointment.

I thought my concerns would be met with care and urgency from my medical team. Instead, I had almost entirely the opposite reaction from those whose help I desired most.

Insensitive receptionists, limited doctor appointments, and entire days where none of the eight to 10 doctors in practice were in the office, were just a few of the unexpected and stressful challenges I dealt with. It all made my horrifying experience infinitely worse.

I finally got a follow-up appointment, the morning my husband was leaving for a five-day work trip. He had attended every single doctor's appointment until then.

I'll never forget the look of pity on the doctor's face as she told me the bad news. Despite having a beating heart, my baby was missing a brain, and I was likely going to miscarry. I would have to wait and see what my body decided to do with the defective fetus.

Eli's flight was delayed, so I was able to catch him before he departed. Eli couldn't even comprehend the news himself, as he was chaperoning his high school boys' softball team for a tournament and had absolutely nobody to speak to about his own sense of loss and the guilt of being away from his wife, who was suffering greatly.

As an Orthodox Jew, I faced another level of complication: my cramps worsened over the Sabbath when I couldn't use technology, including making phone calls.

There are exceptions if one's life is in danger, but while I was in a whole lot of pain I wasn't sure if it qualified as a life-threatening situation. I sought advice from my next-door neighbor, who threatened to call the doctor herself if I didn't.

I'm really glad I opened up to someone with a more rational way thinking. It allowed me to remove the stress of wondering if there was anything else I should have been doing.

When I woke up on the final day of my husband being away, I experienced the worst cramps yet. So when I saw a giant, fetus-sized clump of blood in the toilet, I froze completely and had no idea what to do.

My instinct was to cover it up as soon as possible. My hand shot out and I immediately flushed it. Not having Eli or someone else more rational than I at that moment was horrifying.

Of course, this was also one of the days when no doctors were available because the office was moving. I sobbed to multiple receptionists for help, pleading for an ultrasound to see if my whole saga was over.

By a stroke of luck, my ultrasound technician happened to pass by one of the kinder receptionists and overheard that I was asking to see someone. She advocated for me and ordered me to come in right away. I am forever grateful to have had one medical angel who was concerned, and showed me the empathy I needed in that moment.

When my husband came home, he was finally able to absorb all that happened and let out his emotions. We gave ourselves some time and grace to mourn the loss.

I was ultimately able to get pregnant again. I gave birth to a healthy baby girl 10 months later, and one more daughter 5 years later.

Looking back on my experience, I was surprised that the internet was lacking in relatable content about miscarriages. Other than a few articles and clinical websites, it had nothing that comforted me when I was up way too late in the middle of the night, searching for something, anything, that could tell me how I would survive losing my fetus, as well as so many of my hopes and dreams with it.

I was under the false impression that people don't talk about miscarriages, since traditionally we don't talk about pregnancies until after the first trimester. I tried to be strong all by myself, but it became very clear I had no idea how to comprehend all of my emotions and physical pains.

I didn't want any woman who had gone through a miscarriage to feel alone like I did. So I drew what I went through, creating a short comic about my story called, "Miscarried." Actress, Mayim Bialik, also a mother, helped me launch the comic publicly and the feedback was incredible.

I started getting emails from people all over the world who related to my story and were glad to find that they weren't in this alone. I ended up making a video out of my comic to reach more people. It's launching in May.

As awful as my experience was, I'm thankful that I was able to share it. While the world has certainly made some progress in discussing miscarriages and other complications regarding childbirth, there's still a long way to go.

I hope that by telling my story through my comics, I can help others feel less alone in their struggle and help women understand that sometimes miscarriages, though terrible, can be a natural part of life, and that nothing is wrong with women who miscarry.

It's 2024. Nobody should be suffering alone. I want to make sure of that.

Chari Pere, creator of Miscarried: An Unspoken Cartoonmentary, worked as a creative director and illustrator/storyboard artist on projects for Red Bull, Jockey, Disney, Comedy Central, and Bud Light. She has created content for The Washington Post's The Lily and Mad Magazine and has collaborated with NYT bestselling author Gretchen Rubin and actress Mayim Bialik.

All views expressed are the author's own.

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