By Lori Morris, CNM, certified nurse-midwife and women's health coach
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​[This blog is being published in 2026 but it was written in 2025. Keep this in mind as you read.]

Even as a certified nurse-midwife, nothing prepared me for my own miscarriage. In this post I share my timeline, from the positive test to the spotting, the labs, the ER ultrasound, and passing my baby at home, along with what helped and why I'm glad I told people. If you're walking through early pregnancy loss, I hope seeing a real timeline helps you feel less alone.

I dreaded writing this and put it off over and over. This happened in my own life over a few months, and it was something I was so excited to share with you, until suddenly I realized I wouldn't be able to share it the way I'd hoped.

I'm sharing it for two reasons. First, I did an episode on miscarriage before this happened, and it was theoretical. I think it helps to see what the timeline can really look like. Second, this experience led me to make some changes in my practice, and those won't make sense without the story.

If this isn't the post for you right now, I completely understand.

I'm 43, so this was unexpected. You kind of assume you're past that season of life, and then you find out maybe you're not.

My last period started January 28th. Almost exactly four weeks later, I got up in the night and came back to bed weirdly nauseous. As I lay there, it dawned on me. The next morning I took a test and saw a faint little line. I was home alone that day, so I sat with the news by myself. Being me, I took another test first thing the next morning, and it was blazing.

A few days later I ran labs to check my hCG (the hormone pregnancy tests look for). The blood test gives you an actual number, and everything looked great.

By the end of February, I told my husband. He was in disbelief at first. When you're in your forties, you just don't expect that news. He wanted to wait a week or so before telling anyone, and there was wisdom in that. We waited another week before telling the kids. My two oldest accused us of lying and then weren't too happy about it. My youngest was over the moon and stayed in my corner through the whole thing.

I started telling people at church around March 23rd. It felt like I'd waited forever. The spotting started on the 26th.

As a midwife, my mind automatically goes to the possibility that something's wrong. But I've also seen so many women spot and everything turn out fine.

One of the ironies of this story is that I had just recorded my miscarriage episode a couple of weeks earlier. Looking back at the timeline, I may have been recording it for myself.

I drew labs that Wednesday morning. In a normal first trimester, hCG usually doubles about every 48 hours. My hCG was 17,558, and my progesterone was 5.1, very low. I had a telehealth visit with a physician friend, got a prescription for progesterone, and started it, hoping it would make a difference.

By Friday, I was worried about an ectopic pregnancy, where the pregnancy implants somewhere outside the uterus. I was doing laundry when my heart started racing and I felt lightheaded and nauseous. I told my husband something was wrong, and we went to our local hospital.

They ran labs, did an EKG, and sent me for an ultrasound. The tech wouldn't let me see the screen, but I finally caught a glimpse of my baby and started crying. The doctor told us it wasn't ectopic, but it looked like the baby had stopped growing about two weeks before. I should have been eight weeks, and the baby measured six. They couldn't officially diagnose a miscarriage yet and wanted me back in seven days.

I went home, looked at all the data, and knew our baby had already died. I stopped the progesterone and waited. Nothing happened for several days.

By April 1st, there was still no sign of things moving along, so I decided to use Cytotec (misoprostol), something I'd talked about in an earlier episode. I was home alone. An hour later, almost nothing had happened, so I got up and started cleaning, with barely any cramping or bleeding.

The next day, I checked my cervix and found a large clot. I put it in a mason jar and realized it was my baby, about six weeks along. The bleeding and cramping picked up after that.

All of this happened before the seven-day recheck the ER wanted. I went through it without an official diagnosis. Being a midwife helped me through the physical side, but it was still very hard.

It felt like it was only real to me. My husband didn't fully process it the way I did. My youngest was the only one of the kids who asked questions and wanted to see the baby.

People don't know what to say. The ones who had been through it themselves were the biggest comfort. One sweet sister in Christ from church gave me a memory box with a heart necklace, and that has meant so much to me.

I don't regret telling people. The timing was hard, but because people knew, they could pray for us and understand what we were going through. If no one had known, it would have been unbearably lonely.

This experience changed some things about how I care for women. I share those changes in Why I'm Changing My Practice After My Miscarriage.

If you want to understand your options during a miscarriage, read Walking Through Miscarriage: Information, Options, and Space to Grieve and my post on Cytotec (misoprostol).

What are signs of a possible miscarriage?
Spotting or bleeding, cramping, and pregnancy symptoms fading can all be signs, though spotting doesn't always mean a miscarriage. Labs that show hCG not rising as expected, or an ultrasound showing the baby stopped growing, can help confirm it.

Should I tell people I'm pregnant before 12 weeks?
That's a personal decision. In my experience, having people know meant they could pray for me and support me when I lost the baby. Without that, it would have been much lonelier.

Can you pass a miscarriage at home?
Many women do, either by waiting for it to happen naturally or with medication. Talk with your midwife or doctor about your options and warning signs, like heavy bleeding, fever, or feeling faint.

If you're grieving a loss or hoping to conceive again, I'd love to help. See my Menu of Services or email me at lori@morriswellnessservices.com.

If you've lost a baby, I'm so sorry, mama. You're not alone. You can listen to the full episode of If Mama Ain't Healthy (Ain't Nobody Healthy) at the top of this page.