Loss and fertility blog

Written by Taryn Symington

In late July of 2021, I found out I was expecting. 

Pregnant for the first time, I was so incredibly excited to see that little human on the screen at my first ultrasound. 

The ultrasound technician told me that it looked like baby was about 5-6 weeks based on measurements – although I was about 10.5 weeks at the time. 

I immediately knew something wasn’t right, but waited for my doctor to confirm. She called eventually, recommending I go for blood work and another ultrasound. After we got the results that my Hcg levels dropped, my doctor confirmed that I had experienced a missed miscarriage. 

I was referred to an early pregnancy loss clinic, and moved more and more through the stages of grief – mostly anger. I felt dismissed and lonely as I advocated for one last ultrasound just to make sure. 

After a final ultrasound (and quite a few days of back and forth), the doctor from the clinic called to inform me that I would come to the hospital the following day to pick up the medication to help release the “product of conception”. Unfortunately, I experienced a traumatic miscarriage the following day and never needed the medication. 

I eventually shared my story on social media where there was an outpouring of support and stories from other women who had gone through similar scenarios. I was told I was brave, and thanked immensely for being so vulnerable. 

Little did they know that sharing my story was (and still is) part of my healing journey. As a mentor and friend of mine said “it doesn’t get easier, but it gets lighter to carry”; and I will always and forever remember that quote. 

It never gets easier. You never forget, and you never truly stop mourning the loss of what was, or what could have been. But it does get lighter. And you move forward with more strength than you ever imagined you held inside yourself. You move forward with the community of people who have been through it, and you carry it together as a collective. 

I work in the fertility space, where there is unfortunately no shortage of miscarriage and loss. But I never thought it would happen to me. I felt guilty, ashamed, like I should have known how to prevent this. I was grieving, but also grateful. 

My experience over the last year has brought me closer to my friends & family, closer to my clients, and closer to this community. It connected me to people in ways that I never expected, and elevated client relationships to help us both work through our journeys together.

As time goes on, I feel that gratitude more and more. And although it’s probably triggering for some to hear, I believe that everything happens for a reason and at the right time. It also taught me that I can be both grieving and grateful simultaneously, and grow stronger as it gets lighter.