I had a miscarriage during quarantine and it was so lonely

Miscarriage is already a lonely process; you go from living for two to being back down to one. And no matter how much you're told it's "not your fault," you still feel like you failed.

I had a miscarriage during quarantine and it was so lonely

The night I found out I was pregnant, it was date night—what would become our last legitimate outing before the Corona hit the fan. We'd started out at a new wine bar in our neighborhood, whose terrazzo counters kept popping up in my Instagram feed. It was early Covid-days; as I placed my hands on the orange-and-gray-flecked bar, I thought, This is cute. Then only half-seriously: Maybe I shouldn't touch this.

Coronavirus was definitely a topic of discussion all around us, but it was still sort of intangible and uncertain, heavy on hand sanitizer humor. When my husband wondered if we should stay in that night, I replied, almost teenage-like, "We still have to live our lives."

He had more reason to be concerned: As a Type 1 diabetic with asthma, he was a walking target. Yet, that night, Insta-friendly decor and natural wines won over the threat of a virus we didn't know much about (which now seems insane). "I guess you're right," he said, pocketing a bottle of mini-Purell as we headed out the door.

We had been told that getting pregnant would be an uphill battle due to my husband's sperm morphology; a semen analysis had revealed that he had a very low percentage of sperm in the correct size and shape to fertilize an egg. "Not impossible" is how one doctor described it, along with a basketball metaphor I'm still not sure I understand. In short, pregnancy wasn't a complete impossibility, but would probably take a long time via natural methods. We hadn't been "trying" long — this was our third month, but I was already mentally preparing myself for a discussion about IUI in six months' time.

When we headed to CVS to buy a pregnancy test later that night (the day my period was due), we both talked about it being a waste of money. There was just no way.

"JK SURPRISE!" is what it should say instead of "Pregnant" after you pee on a Clearblue stick. My husband, frantic, both in excitement and disbelief, was sure the test was wrong ("These things don't lie," I kept saying), but he insisted on heading back to CVS for more tests, which all said the same thing.

Over the next two days, the Corona situation snowballed and the fear started setting in. I informed my team that I'd be working from home until further notice because of my husband's underlying conditions. (Well, and now because of my pregnancy, which I didn't disclose.)

I'd imagine that any newly pregnant woman becomes addicted to Google, but in the time of Corona, I began devouring everything I could find about how the virus was affecting women and their children. I started taking my temperature and frantically researched "fever during early pregnancy" when I got a few readings over 100 degrees. (Turns out we had a faulty thermometer.)

We told close friends and family about the pregnancy with the caveat, "It's early days. We don't know if it's a thing yet." Our older family members brushed off the idea of miscarriage each time we reminded them of the possibility; it quickly became clear to us how misinformed their generation was on pregnancy loss. They'd lived through pregnancies in times when miscarriage wasn't openly discussed, leading them to conclude that it happened rarely.

But of course, I'd had plenty of friends miscarry. My doctor, who has been delivering babies for 37 years, told me that he finds that one in four women miscarry, a statistic that's even higher than the number quoted online. (An ultrasound technician would later tell me it's more like one in three, a number that feels both scary and reassuring that this literally happens ALL THE TIME.)

At our first scan—at six weeks—my husband teared up when we found a heartbeat. In the weeks ahead, and with no cramping or bleeding, we began to feel like it was going to be "a thing." I'd crossed a mental line where I'd allowed myself to bookmark a few IKEA nursery pieces. We mulled over name choices during our nightly "gotta get out of the house" walks.

At my second scan at nine weeks, I was alone (partners were no longer allowed in the doctor's office) when I got the bad news. I began crying into my mask as my doctor explained that he couldn't find a heartbeat and the embryo had not grown. He called it a "missed abortion."

The doctor arranged for a follow-up ultrasound with a different hospital department — he was only permitted to treat patients one day a week, so this would be the fastest way to confirm the miscarriage. A few days later, I found myself, alone, once again, being told the pregnancy wasn't viable.

Miscarriage is already a lonely process; you go from living for two to being back down to one. And no matter how much you're told it's "not your fault," you still feel like you failed.

I've never been someone who has felt like they need tons of friends or even tons of time with them (I have my solid circle and we ordinarily have our regular friend-date schedules), but all of a sudden, I wished everyone could come over for a days-long dinner party. I missed my parents with the same sadness and homesickness I'd last felt at summer camp when I was 10. Zoom dates made me want to reach through the screen for hugs.

Yet, I question whether I would have pushed myself to see friends under "normal" circumstances. Or would I have held back, stayed close to my partner, and given myself some time to just be alone? After all, being secluded with him during that time brought us closer and was undoubtedly coated in compassion.

Maybe the emotional aspect of miscarrying in quarantine isn't actually any different. A loss is a loss is a loss and that lives inside you — no matter what's going on in the world outside.

14 sweet 'just thinking of you' gifts for every mama

A sweet surprise that tells her you've been thinking of her might be the pick-me-up she needs.

Who says you have to wait for birthdays or holidays to give your bestie a great gift? A sweet surprise that tells her you've been thinking of her might be the pick-me-up she needs in these more-than-trying times. We've rounded up some of our favorite go-to gifts that are certain to be a bright spot in her week. But be warned, you may want to snag a few for yourself. (You deserve it, mama.)

Here are some our favorite "just because" gifts to give our hardworking mama friends.

New Mother face + body care duo

volition face + body care duo

This correcting oil and stretch mark minimizer is perfect for the pregnant mama looking to keep her pregnancy glow. The correcting oil brightens the skin while reducing dark spots, and the stretch mark minimizer works to smooth her ever-growing belly.


Allover roller

esker allover roller

This jade roller goes beyond your typical face roller and can be used anywhere on the body. It works to increase stimulation and reduce puffiness and is perfect for applying any oils to the face or body. Plus, it feels like a mini spa treatment.


Kombucha making kit

farmsteady kombucha making kit

What could be a more perfect gift for the health-obsessed friend? This kombucha making kit comes with everything you need to brew your own homemade green tea kombucha. They'll think this is the tastiest gift ever.


Laetitia lipstick

cupid & psyche laetitia

This red lipstick is perfect for your makeup enthusiast bestie who is looking to spruce up her life in quarantine. Crafted in the United States, these bee and vegan-friendly and cruelty-free lipsticks are created to flatter all complexions. Cupid and Psyche Beauty makes finding the perfect red lip way too easy!


Jigsaw puzzle

inner piecec jigsaw puzzle

Mamas need to destress now more than ever during quarantine. This adorable jigsaw puzzle is perfect for the mama who needs a brain break! The 500-piece puzzle designed by artist Ray Oranges features an abstract gradient design that fits a standard frame when completed. Bonus: It's printed on recycled paper and the company donates $1 from every puzzle sold to youth mindfulness programs.


Matilda's Bloombox

matilda's bloombox

If we have to be stuck inside, we might as well have some gorgeous florals to brighten up the space. Matilda's Bloombox locally sources blooms, delivers them to her door and provides simple tips on how to arrange it into a beautiful bouquet.


'I Am Enough' bracelet

I Am Enough bracelet

Let this dainty bracelet serve as a constant reminder to your bestie that she is enough. She'll wear this on her wrist and read this daily oath to herself, "I Am Enough."


Glow assorted teas

vahdam low assorted teas

This tea gift box set covers the entire spectrum of flavors from sweet to spicy. Individually packaged in beautiful tins, your gal pal will feel like a queen sipping her morning tea. Originally $40, this set is currently on sale for just $24. We'll take two, please.


Find your voice journal

find your voice journal

Journaling is a great way to ease anxiety and will slow your bestie's racing mind before bed. This gift is perfect for first time journalists and includes prompts, daily quotes and coloring pages to help her unlock her potential and find her voice.


Premium frother

shore magic premium frother

This gift is fitting for your latte-sipping bestie who can't go a day without her coffee. All she has to do is add two scoops of collagen to her favorite drink, and she'll have a perfectly foamy drink ready in seconds. Skipping the drive-thru line has never been so easy!


Bath soak infusion kit

maude bath soak infusion kit

Say hello to hydration! She'll be feeling smooth and relaxed as ever after a long bath soaking in these salts. This vegan + cruelty-free set incorporates dead sea salt and dehydrated coconut milk powder for an ultra hydrating experience.


Tiny Tags 'mama' necklace

Tiny Tags 'mama' necklace

It's a hard-earned title she answers to a hundred times per day. Whether she's new to the club or a seasoned professional, this delicate script 'mama' necklace is guaranteed to be a perfect fit.


Superfood honey

Beekeeper's Naturals B.Powered honey

With a lack of sleep and jam-packed days, getting through the afternoon can be a real challenge. Send her a powerful pick-me-up in the form of a therapeutic blend of royal jelly, bee pollen, propolis and raw honey. It makes the ideal companion for tea, smoothies, yogurt or even on its on.


Calming midnight mask with melatonin

Who doesn't deserve a reminder to pamper themself every once in awhile? Even better, this mask does all its work at night while you're sleeping with no extra effort needed. It's an amazing plant-powered antioxidant-packed mask that has melatonin, wild dandelion leaf and hyaluronic acid to rehydrate, repair and reset facial skin. It's so good, you might want to gift it to yourself. We won't tell, mama.


We independently select and share the products we love—and may receive a commission if you choose to buy. You've got this.


Sorry, you can’t meet our baby yet

Thank you for understanding. ❤️

In just over three weeks, we will become parents. From then on, our hearts will live outside of our bodies. We will finally understand what everyone tells you about bringing a child into the world.

Lately, the range of emotions and hormones has left me feeling nothing short of my new favorite mom word, "hormotional." I'm sure that's normal though, and something most people start to feel as everything suddenly becomes real.

Our bags are mostly packed, diaper bag ready, and birth plan in place. Now it's essentially a waiting game. We're finishing up our online childbirth classes which I must say are quite informational and sometimes entertaining. But in between the waiting and the classes, we've had to think about how we're going to handle life after baby's birth.

I don't mean thinking and planning about the lack of sleep, feeding schedule, or just the overall changes a new baby is going to bring. I'm talking about how we're going to handle excited family members and friends who've waited just as long as we have to meet our child. That sentence sounds so bizarre, right? How we're going to handle family and friends? That sentence shouldn't even have to exist.

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I wasn’t sure if I wanted to have kids—so here’s what I did

We asked our three most pessimistic friends who have kids whether it's worth it or not

As told to Liz Tenety.

Around the time my husband and I were turning 30, we had a genuine conversation about whether or not we wanted kids. I was the hesitant one because I was like, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Let's just hold on. Okay, let's talk about this. Because we love our life. We like traveling. Is this what we want?"

My husband said, "Let's ask our three most pessimistic, crabby friends who have kids whether or not it's worth it."

And every single one of them was like, "Oh, it's unmissable on planet earth."

So when I got pregnant, I was—and I'm not ashamed to say this and I don't think you should be—I was as connected with the baby in my belly as if it were a water bottle. I was like, I don't know you. I don't know what you are, but you can be some gas pain sometimes, but other than that, we're going to have to meet each other and suss this relationship out.

But all the cliches are true that you just know what to do when the baby comes out. Some of the times are hard, some of them are easier, but you just gotta use your gut.

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