Until I experienced a missed miscarriage, I had no idea it was even possible. Looking back, I realize there were signs I missed; the nausea and exhaustion I felt early on in my pregnancy gradually faded by week eight. I didn’t know that a decrease in pregnancy symptoms could signal a failing pregnancy. As long as I wasn’t bleeding, I assumed everything was fine. I went to my pregnancy scan, confident and alone. The sonographer, who was cheerful when I arrived, grew quieter as she moved the probe across my abdomen. There was no heartbeat. I learned that the pregnancy had ended weeks earlier, but my uterus was still holding onto it. It would inevitably have to end somehow.
I was referred to the early pregnancy service and given a pamphlet outlining options for removing the pregnancy from my body (medication, surgery, or waiting for it to happen naturally). They stressed that it was a personal choice, but I felt paralyzed. None of the options appealed to me. What I truly desired was to have a baby in seven months, possibly with a birth doula to support me through the process—just like Gigi Hadid, Anne Hathaway, and many other mothers now do. I reread my options repeatedly, hoping one would suddenly seem appealing. I also turned to social media, where I discovered Arden Cartrette, known as the Miscarriage Doula.
The role of a miscarriage doula (Cartrette is a pioneer in the field) mirrors that of a birth doula but operates within the shadow side of motherhood. They offer guidance and tools to help navigate the physical and emotional toll of pregnancy loss. “My original thought was that there are doulas for those who are pregnant and for those who give full-term, live birth, but what happens when someone gives birth in the first or second trimester?” Cartrette explained. “We should have access to doula care for those births too.” Like Cartrette, many miscarriage doulas have experienced miscarriages themselves, creating a bond of shared experience between client and doula.
As I delved into this unfamiliar world, my bleeding began spontaneously (option three from the pamphlet). On Monday, five days after the scan, it was uncomfortable but manageable. By Tuesday, I was losing so much blood that I could barely move from the bathroom floor. I was rushed to the emergency room and into the resuscitation bay, where they inserted an IV line and hooked me up to heart monitors to address my racing heart. Once I stabilized, I was sent to the maternity ward to wait alongside mothers expecting full-term babies for another scan. The specialist declared it “good news,” stating that “the product of conception has passed.” Was that all it amounted to, a “product of conception?”
Discharged from the hospital, I was in a morphine-induced fog. As the medication wore off, I started questioning how I would move forward. What had I done wrong? What should I tell my friends? When would I try again… should I even try again if this is how it would always end? I decided to seek the help of a miscarriage doula as I searched for answers. I connected with Katie Rose Whiting, a London-based miscarriage doula who trained under Cartrette. Whiting, who previously worked in luxury fashion, found her calling in this field after experiencing her first miscarriage (she endured a second while in training). “I wanted to use all the information and tools I’d accumulated personally to empower women going through this type of loss, to bring healing and recovery where there is often trauma,” she said.
We met online several weeks after my miscarriage. Our session began with us each lighting a candle, creating a virtual cocoon between us. I found Whiting to be a blend of therapist and practical guide, someone who is also, as she puts it, “a bit alternative.” She looked exactly as I had imagined: flowing hair, a smock dress, and stacks of rings on fingers adorned with tiny tattoos. I can’t pinpoint why, but I felt instantly comforted by her. When she asked me what happened, I told her everything, even details I thought I had forgotten. My blood tests came back normal, and there was no underlying medical reason to explain why it happened. “Like nature, not every seed is meant to grow, not every season brings a harvest,” she said. “Our bodies know which seeds are healthy, which are not and when the right time to blossom is.”
In that way, my body, which I had cursed for failing, had done what it is designed to do. It was an empowering perspective. During our session, Whiting told me about a process called microchimerism. Even in early pregnancy, fetal cells cross the placenta and enter the mother’s blood, where they can remain for decades, even forever. “They are literally with us and we are changed because of them,” she observed. It was comforting to think the pregnancy wasn’t completely lost into an abyss, that in a way I could move forward with it.
Just as a “traditional” birth doula might utilize massage or essential oils, Whiting also has a tapestry of tools to guide her clients in moving forward. She calls this process “an inner winter, a time to let go and replenish.” Some of her suggestions were practical, like informing me about the new government-issued baby loss certificate. Others were more “alternative” (think: yoni steaming). How useful you find them may depend on your openness to alternative therapies. Her focus is on “blood building” after miscarriage, for which she formulates a bespoke self-care toolkit. Mine included iron-rich foods, supplements, and nettle tea. She showed me the toolkit over Zoom. It was beautifully handwritten and colorfully painted “with love and intention for each client.”
Nettle tea aside, it was healing to receive something handmade just for me—the very opposite of the printed pamphlet I was handed two months ago. A 2017 study found that 97 percent of women who received doula support reported that it “helped” their miscarriage experience, despite it not having a tangible impact on medical outcomes, like pain scores. I asked Arden Cartrette if her work as a doula is being increasingly recognized. “Not only is the demand for my work high but the increase in medical professionals who partner with me to provide support is happening as well,” she said.
Today, she says, she regularly gets referrals from midwives and fertility specialists. Like the study, I can’t be certain my doula experience will change any outcomes, for my body or a future pregnancy. But it has taught me that my miscarriage was more than just a “product of conception.” My doula taught me that it mattered. It was here, in a microchimerism way—and in my heart. It always will be.
