This is what it’s like to lose your baby in the middle of a pandemic.

(TW: pregnancy loss) 1/

You go to your ultrasound appointment wearing a mask and gloves. It’s the first time you’ve left the house in weeks. You have to go alone so you prepare to FaceTime your partner so they can see the ultrasound. 2/

You know something is wrong immediately because the doctor asks if you’ve had cramping. The baby is about the right size but doesn’t have a heartbeat. It must have happened in the last few days, she tells you. 3/

You start to faint. You get it together and ask if there’s any chance. No. Your doctor tells you that it’s a miscarriage. You have to either wait for it to complete at home, have a D&C, or take a pill that accelerates home process. Every option has risks. 4/

You go home, shellshocked. But you don’t have time to process it. You know that the hospitals are already overcrowded and in a week or two, non-COVID-19 health services like a D&C may be hard or impossible to get. 5/

What if the miscarriage does not complete on its own at home? What if you get an infection? Or bleed out? You decide to schedule the D&C but you still have to wait to get an appointment. 6/

You have to go through this completely alone. No one but the patient is allowed in the hospital because of COVID-19. Your grieving partner can’t be with you. You’re scared of both the procedure and contracting the virus while you’re at the hospital. 7/

Maybe you are very lucky and your nurse is a familiar face. She was the one who was there during procedures you had every few months for nearly a decade just so you could get pregnant 1 day. She remembers what you went through. She’s kind. You worry about her getting the virus 8/

It is horrible but it is over quickly and you can go home. Now you have to tell all your family and friends who shared your joy that the baby is gone. Each call is hard. You wonder if they blame or judge you even though you know it wasn’t your fault. 9/

You try to be positive because they’re scared too. They’re suffering loss too—not only from this but from COVID. Everyone is drowning in grief. So you will find yourself trying to comfort everyone else about your miscarriage, offering them some hope even if you don’t feel it. 10/

You have friends who have been through this. You reach out. They all have different experiences and feelings. It’s hard for them to hear from you too because it brings up old scars for them. 11/

There are no support group meetings right now because of coronavirus. You can’t even hug your friends or family, and you’re heartbroken you won’t get to hug your baby. 12/

And worst of all, you know your body and brain are about to go through the hardest parts of postpartum—including the postpartum depression—without the joy of a baby. 13/

But you know your experience is also probably the best case scenario of miscarriage during a pandemic. Many other women are in far more danger right now and cannot access the women’s health services they need. 14/

You know you are very lucky to have access to women’s health services at a time when many women across the country do not—either because they lack insurance or because republicans are closing women’s health clinics or because hospitals are overwhelmed. 15/

As this crisis goes on, more and more women will experience pregnancy loss and have to handle it alone. But we don’t have to suffer in silence. We can create a space for this grief and support. If you want to be a part of a support group, please reach out. My DMs are open. 16/