Monday, April 2, 2012

Stupid, Crazy and Grateful – Part 2 of a sad story

As I said before, this and my last post are not in my usual Surviving in Sweden vein. They are highly personal and depressing. They are also a bit graphic. This is part two of the story of my miscarriage. There are some cultural observations here, but mostly this post is for me – not my regular readers. It is a way for me to process what happened.

The Day after finding we were no longer pregnant


It was a tragedy of a morning, which went a bit like this:

The Swede – Have you seen Little Swede’s socks?

Me: (bursts into tears) I don’t know!

The Swede – Would you like a cup of tea?

Me: (bursts into tears) I don’t know!

We sit down to breakfast and the Swede bursts into tears.

This is when I should have canceled my trip. But I didn’t.


I got on the train to go on my business trip at 9:45 Sunday morning. I just didn’t want to cancel. I was so excited about this project. I got up at 7:00 and worked until I left. This was so I didn’t have to think about the ticking time bomb in my uterus. I was afraid it would go off at any time, but I hoped it would wait until our appointment on Tuesday.

Grateful for an ‘untypical’ Swede

I tried to do some work on the train. I read through my material, set about planning the agenda. The girl sitting next to me started asking me questions. Turns out she was a Masters student in my field. She had a thick Swedish dialect I couldn’t place and spoke a mile a minute. I maybe caught every 3 word she said, but I was just happy to have someone to listen to and focus on. She rattled on for about two hours. When it appeared she might stop, I coaxed her on. I have never been so grateful for such a talkative person.

But the highlight? The man across from us who leaned over and asked if I was from Blekinge because it sounded like I had a Blengingske accent. Score for being able to speak awesome Swedish in a crisis. Usually I get Gotland, so this was a compliment!


When I arrived, my brother and sister in law were waiting. I threw my miscarriage story at them as soon as I saw them. I hadn’t told anyone. They hadn’t known I was pregnant. The Swede swore he had told them. My crazy side started to come out. The one that keeps talking even after the brain has shut down. I am so glad my brother and sister in law are such good people.


We spent the night having a nice family night with family games and a great dinner. I cannot say how grateful I was for the distraction.

Somewhere in the afternoon the bleeding stopped. I am so grateful I had the ultrasound the night before and knew what to expect. If I hadn’t, I might have thought everything was OK. And what came next would have been even more traumatic.


I went to bed at about 10:30. At 3:30 it started. Me, the ultimate ‘hold on while I Google that’ had never bothered to Google what an 11 week miscarriage might look like until 3:30 in the morning. In the middle of one. I tried to be as quiet as a mouse.

 And then it went down. Me. Alone. So much blood.


I thought I would have some warning cramps, I thought it would hurt. I am grateful there was no pain.

I am grateful I didn’t pass out – there was so much blood at once.

I am grateful for technology. And that when I sent The Swede a text message at 4 am I got an answer right away.

I am grateful for the blood, so I couldn’t see anything when I thought ‘I wonder if that was . .’


It was over by 5, but I couldn’t know that. I was too busy reading war stories on the internet. I was too afraid it might happen again. All of that blood. At work. On the train. I hadn’t felt any pain. Could it really be over?

I canceled my work appointment.


I am grateful that when I told my Brother in Law what happened he said all of the perfect things to say, all while apologizing for not really knowing what to say.

I am grateful that my sister in law helped me get back to the train station to catch an early train home.

I am grateful that I made the trip without any more trauma. And I am astounded that my later train was canceled and I got my money back for that trip, too.


I got home at 4:30 the next day. 12 hours after the worst of my experience.

I fell to pieces.


I am grateful I had a safe place to fall.

I am grateful for the family that was waiting for me. 


  1. It's going to take a long time to get over it, there's no way around that. I lost a baby very early on, so I don't think I was so attached emotionally, but my sister still mourns the loss of a 5 month baby and still tells people she has had three children, not two, and celebrates the 'birthday' of her child, in private, twenty years later. Friends of mine feel similarly. Those babies are not forgotten.

  2. I really want to give you a hug. I wouldn't pretend and say I know what you are going through, cause I don't. But I think you are handling it really well. Time will heal your wounds. Stay strong and blessed :)

  3. I'm normally a lurker (I love reading your blog, by the way!) but I just wanted to say I'm sorry for your family's loss.