A hope, a wish, a spell

It’s the season of orange blossoms and spring showers, tulip posies on the kitchen table and warm morning sun. I don’t know about you, but I think my heart belongs to spring.

This spring has been full of suprises though, often distracting me from the explosive, overhwelming beauty that is all around me. Cue the trigger warning…

Trigger warning: early pregnancy loss

I’ve reflected for a long time before writing today’s transmission. It is not my usual type of post — no botanical craft, no gardening update, no seasonal musing —, and therefore it is as much exploratory as it is cathartic. If this is not for you, I completely understand. Simply delete this email, no hard feelings, and I will see you next time for a recipe or craft tutorial, I promise.

This late winter and early spring brought not only daffodils and tulips, but also a sweet joy: a much-wished for baby happily growing in my belly. Nine years after we’ve had J, this desire felt a little wild, but also made so much sense, and this trying-again adventure was accompanied by equal amounts of joy and uncertainty (can we really go through all of this again?). But this baby was a hope, a wish, a spell.

Things felt a little different this time, though. Pains I didn’t remember, for one. Small, odd bleedings. But maybe because it has been so long since my last pregnancy, that is just how things go. After all, I’m not 21 anymore.

On April 2, around 6 weeks pregnant, a strong surge of pain led us to the hospital. We live about an hour away drive from the hospital, and let me tell you, this was the longest drive of my life! I was in labor pain on the passenger seat for the whole drive. Once in the emergency room, my world shuttered: there was no gestational sac in my uterus (have I been faking a pregancy all along?!, was my first thought. Yes, impostor syndrome soaring high). Further examining shone some light: my pregnancy had been ectopic, developing in my left tube, and the pain was most likely a miscarriage happening. Before this pregnancy, I hadn’t even heard of this — absolutelty no idea things could go wrong so early on.

I started bleeding on the way home, my head a mess of thoughts and emotions, and my face a mess of tears and snot. Sam was no better. We went back a couple days later for further tests, that confirmed the pregnancy hormone lowering and my uterus shedding its layers. All was good, progressing as it should. I was grateful that I had it easy, no chemical or surgical management, no rupture, just my body doing its restorative magic.

The following two weeks held all the waves of grief, although I seem to have skipped denial altogether: anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance. Mostly anger and depression. And often. But after two weeks of continuous bleeding and pain, I was ready to let go and feel like myself again. Close the chapter, if possible, as best I could.

That was, however, when the pains I thought were normal (it’s just part of miscarriage, I assumed) started getting stronger, and stronger every day, until I started vomiting from them. I ended up calling my gynecologis one morning to ask “is this normal?”. The answer was no, and the order was simple: go to the emergency room, and go quick.

I really wish this type of experience were more talked about, and even just the experience of pain better described. Had there been more easily accessible information on what to look for after a miscarriage, I could have prevented the second part of this story. But alas, onwards we move.

April 17, Herbalist Day. We enter the emergency room hoping for a simple explanation for these sudden waves of pain, perhaps even some quick procedure to help me feel better. After a round of testing, lo and behold. I hadn’t lost the embryo at all. I was even more pregnant, my hormone levels having more than quadrupled. Not only that, I was about to rupture my tube (as the embryo grows and grows in this narrow space, tissues stretch to their limit).

My options were laid out: either undergo chemical management, with a drug called methotrexate (MTX), which stops the development of the embryo, or face surgery and the possible removal of my left tube. The choice seemed obvious, and in less than an hour I was experiencing my first hospitalization. A sterile, somewhat cold room, a green gown, a catheter in my arm. All of this had been so unexpected. My hair needed washing, I didn’t have a change of clothes with me, my period underwear needed changing. Also, as an aside, J was born at home. I had neved been hospitalized before, and this whole experience was a stark contrast to my previous pregnancy.

In total, I spent four nights at hospital. The first few days were full of fear, as MTX takes some days to start working and, in the meantime, my perfect baby was still growing — in a perflectly wrong place.

I can’t put into the words the pain, the sadness, the loneliness, the fear, the heartbreak, the confusion, the anger I felt during these days. I had been over the initial waves of grief for two weeks already, and was ready to turn the page, but now I had to re-live these waves all over again, except this time was worse, as an action had had to be taken. It was so painful. Physically and emotionally.

Sam and J visited me every evening, bringing books, games, and flower-pressed cookies. A good friend came with warm tea and fruit salad. I read two books and a half, and ran my pen dry while journaling.

It was during these days that I shared a little note on substack, and the responses I received overwhelmed me with warmth. Yes, ectopic pregnancies are not that common, but early pregnancy loss is a road many of us share, and this grief, while non-linear, is present for so many of us. Wether we’ve experiened it youself or supported someone going through it, this common thread is there. One response in particular made me sob in that hospital bed, and I’m sharing it here with permission.

Despite the hurt, the pain, the cracks, I am very grateful. For the incredible hospital staff, especially C, an assistant who always came to check in on me and chat, and who gave me the best of hugs on the day the dam of my emotions finally and completely burst open.

I am also grateful for our free, accessible healthcare. And for the fact that I can even have this type of care as an option. In a post Roe v Wade America, in some states people are denied this type of life-saving care as it can fall, technically, into the definition of an abortion. I can not imagine what it must be like to be denied this.

Thankfully, it worked. Or it seems to have worked. On Monday, I was discharged and removing the arm catheter, dressing up in my own clothes, and coming home with my family was undescribable in its sheer simplicity and joy. Here on the hills, everything seems greener, with more flowers, shinier. The great-tits left their nest and I missed it, but the wren who laid eggs in our compost toilet is still feeding the hatchlings.

My days have been spent laying down and moving slowly. My mobility is highly reduced as there is still a risk of rupture, and I continue to be in pain. I am scheduled regular exams at the hospital, and tomorrow is my second one post-discharge. There is still a good chance I will need to be hospitalized again tomorrow for a second round of MTX, as my pregnancy hormones are dropping somewhat slowly. I will be hoping for the best and preparing for the worst, which will translate in packing a little bag with a change of clothes, toothbrush, and more books. Just in case. If you’re reading this today, will you please cross your fingers for me? I am ready for this bad dream to be over.

My hope, my wish, my spell now is for this page to be turned. I’ve been bleeding for three weeks now, with hormones and emotions all over the place. The future is a bit uncertain, as this has filled me (us!) with so much fear about about a new pregnancy. I know there are no right answers. So I’m focusing on the present and taking care of my family and myself (and giving myself permission to be taken care of, too).

some things that have been supportive during this whole experience

🌸 Friends and neighbours who have continuously checked on me through texts, calls, dropping of meals, inviting our daughter over for sleepovers, filling my freezer with food and apothecary with herbs. Community is so important.

🌸 A supportive partner, not only taking care of me but also of our daughter, the sheep, the chickens, the cats & dogs, the garden, the house, and his job on top of it all.

🌸 Flowers. Until I received a beautiful bouquet from a dear colleague at the Herbal Academy team, I think I had seriously underestimated the value of a flower bouquet. If you have a friend who could use one, remember it’s easy to have one sent over, since you can order online and have it delivered at the address of your chosing. I sent my best friend one to her house in France last month, but had never received one myself. Flowers are medicine.

🌸 Bone broth. After three weeks of bleeding, an ongoing, it’s maybe no surprise I’m currently aenemic. I’m taking iron suplements, and drinking my nettle infusions, but also simmering bone broth non-stop on the stove, with bones from local-raised or local-hunted animals, and garden herbs. I’m new to bone broth, but am seriously in love with its deeply-nourishing nature.

🌸 A hot water bottle. The warmth really helps to relax and manage the pain. I even used it at the hospital.

🌸 Nervine herbs such as chamomile (Matricaria chamomilla), lavender, (Lavandula spp.), and lemon balm (Melissa officinalis), as well as gentle sedatives like linded (Tilia spp.). They have been keeping me together, like only herbs can, in infusion form. I will start incorporating hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) berry soon, too, once I’m ready to process all the grief after I know this page is finally turned.

🌸 St John’s wort (Hypericum perforatum) infused oil from last summer, which I’ve been using to massage my womb. It’s warming and sunny, and supportive of tissue repair. Even applied from the outside, I can feel its plant magic working its way in, somehow.

🌸 Period underwear. I cannot stress this one enough. I’m a menstrual cup kind of person, but as cups and any thing that goes in are out during this miscarriage bleeding, period underwear is my go-to. I have some pairs of AllMatters undies, and invested in a couple more since thist started. I love them.

🌸 The Ectopic Pregnancy Trust website. This invaluable resource has answered all my questions and more.

🌸 This guide for sage & empowered miscarriage options, by Dr. Aviva Romm, midwife and herbalist. Granted I leaned more on it during the first two weeks, when I thought this was a simple miscarriage of an ectopic pregnancy, but it is an important resource for anyone experiencing early pregnancy loss.

Friends, if you’ve stayed with me until now, thank you. It feels good to write things out and share such a vulnerable experience.

If you have ever lived through an ectopic pregnancy, or a miscarriage of any kind, my heart is with you. This is a very painful experience and living through it leaves deep wounds that I’m not sure when will turn into scars. If you have a story you want to share, feel free to leave it as a comment or just hit ‘reply’. I’ll be here, on this side, always open for connection and shared experiences.

No one should have to walk this road alone and unsupported.
Botanically yours,
Cat