Seventy-Five Percent :: The Math of Miscarriage


I love teaching math. It is arguably my favorite subject to teach. I love the daily counting that is sometimes monotonous, and I live for the moment the little light bulbs go off in their precious minds.

There are, however, times I do not like math. At all. For example, the chance of precipitation on my wedding day. I cannot even think about the hours I get to actually spend with my son, awake, when he is not at school and I am not working. It makes my heart ache. Math is not always fun. 

Today, I got to thinking about my journey to motherhood. It hit me. Seventy-five percent of my pregnancies have been losses. 75%. That is more than half. That is the majority. The glass-half-full type would be talking to you all about the 25%. Oh goodness gracious, I am so thankful for that 25%. He is one of the greatest joys of my life. But today, sitting here in the depths of my grief, I’m thinking about the 75%. 

Never in my life did I imagine this would be my story. Hear me when I say, I know I am not the first and I know I won’t be the last. I also know my story pales in comparison to the tragedies of others.

Each of my losses hurt in different ways. The first one hurt because I was so naive. I had no reason not to embrace that pregnancy with full fledged hope and faith. That miscarriage opened me up to a world of realization — realizing how much of a miracle it truly is to carry a healthy baby to full term.

The second one hurt because it stole my joy for giving Whitt a sibling. I know this will happen for us some day. However, in that moment, I was so excited. We took “big brother” pictures and everything. Again, maybe still a little naive. 

This third one hurt because it wasn’t even on my radar. I was gearing up to start fertility medication on the fifth day of my cycle. Per routine, they drew blood to confirm I wasn’t pregnant. A little over two hours later, my phone rang and they told me I was pregnant. What? How? I have been on my period? They told me that bleeding can be very normal in pregnancy. I had stopped bleeding, so I believed them and clung to that hope and faith yet again.

The next morning, I woke up bleeding again. I knew what was happening. My heart has shattered. I feel completely broken. This one felt cruel. It felt like a carrot had been dangled in front of me and then taken away.

I used to think that there were degrees of “hurt” depending on how far along you are. I was wrong.

The math here tells me that they each hurt, 100% of the time

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Haley was born and raised right here in Birmingham, and feels blessed to call it home. She is a Christian, wife to her husband CJ, and mama to a 22-month old little boy, Whitt. Haley went to college at Lipscomb University in Nashville, and then moved back home to pursue her Master’s Degree at UAB. She is a kindergarten teacher - and even teaches at the same school she attended as a child! When Haley is not teaching, she is chasing around her very active toddler, spending time with family and friends, listening to music, reading, or cheering on the Tide. Haley is so excited to be a part of this amazing group of women!