It feels like labor.  A miscarriage.  That's where I'm at right now.  Dull cramps in my legs have become periodic tightenings of my uterus.  It's not super intense, but I breath through them.  I expand my belly with each inhale.  It's a labor trick, relaxes the surrounding muscles and makes it hurt less.  And, like labor, the more relaxed I can stay, and the less upset or stressed, the faster it will all be over.  Not getting upset is hard when you're miscarrying.  The tightenings come in waves and I breath.  "I am neutral. I am the earth."  I imagine my body lying flat in the soil, arms spread.  I am woman, and this is the cross we bear.  This happens more than we think.
I am sad, but not totally surprised.  My cervix was low and a bit flat, with a line instead of a dot, whereas typically in pregnancy, the cervix will be high and shaped like a nose, moving forward and thinning out towards the end.  But this past week when I checked, it seemed to have moved back and changed shape, so I started to suspect that the danger had passed.  But then last night, I started spotting.  I went to bed, and woke up at 2:20.  Now, two hours later, I feel my body bearing down.  I'm glad it's going fast.
I was only 8 weeks pregnant.  It is much worse for women who miscarry further along in their pregnancies, or for those who have very tramatic experiences during their miscarriage.  It was certainly worse for me the first time around (this is my second miscarriage).  I had a sneaking suspicion this pregnancy might not work out, and I promised myself I wouldn't be heartbroken if it didn't.  The timing is not ideal.  My daughter's 10th birthday is this afternoon.  I just hope I'm well enough to go.  Life doesn't stop because I'm miscarrying, which is another cross that women bear.  We still have mouths to feed, and duties to attend to.
But I suddenly had a gush of blood, and now I am lying in a rather large pool of it.  So I suppose that is all I can write for now.