10 May 2015 & 9 September 2015

After 2 years of trying and multiple fertility treatments, all of which had caused awful problems for me, we started a new treatment. There, first month on the treatment, completely unexpectedly (judging by past failures), I conceived. Words will never ever describe how I felt that day when I found out; I didn’t dare look away from the test, in case I looked back and the line was imagined. But no, 2 years of trying, finally, FINALLY we had that much coveted positive line.

Looking back, I guess I knew I was pregnant before the test showed it, because I’d been feeling very different for about 4 days prior. The next 3 weeks progressed perfectly, feeling suitably nauseous, until one day I woke, and felt completely normal; no tiredness, no sickness, no headache. I had this nagging doubt that wouldn’t leave me alone. But my scan on week 7+3, 22nd September, confirmed my worst fear. No heartbeat; this baby, one so desperately, desperately longed for, wasn’t going to be held by us. It didn’t help to be ‘comforted’ with words by the specialist fertility nurse that ‘It’s very common’ and ‘You can try again’… ‘MY BABY WILL NEVER BE BORN’, is what I wanted to scream at her, ‘I want THIS baby’. How on earth could she suggest within a few seconds of being told that we could simply try again?! What, forget this baby and move on?

It took nearly 2 weeks before the miscarriage started, 11 days of waiting, the hardest weeks of my life. The physical pain was something I thought I would not get through; no one ever tells you what it will actually be like. But the physical pain was nothing to the torture of the emotional. To get through it, I tried to keep busy. I ran a marathon 9 days after miscarrying, raising over £1000 in a week for The Miscarriage Association, I threw myself back into social events and hobbies. But when the activities ended, you’re left with your thoughts and the realisation that you’re back to square one. But next time HAS to be ok, right?

7 weeks later, I conceived again, but the pregnancy must have ended within a matter of days, a chemical pregnancy, the loss no different to a very heavy period. So we never knew, we weren’t trying. It was only because a routine blood test flagged it up. Sadness wasn’t the emotion, really. Emptiness probably describes it best.

Then New Years Day 2015, I realised I felt the same way I had back in August; the sickness, the tiredness, the headache. Again, we weren’t trying, hadn’t had treatment – I don’t ovulate on my own. The test confirmed I was pregnant again. But I knew that something was wrong. My clinic told me I was just worrying and they booked me in for 10 days time for a 7 week scan. I was right to be worried and two days later, it started again. I was admitted into hospital with terrible left-sided pain, dizziness and horrendous nausea. Baby number 3 was leaving me too, making 3 losses in exactly 3 months.

I’m not a self-pitying person, but right now, every day I ask why, why us? Every day, I want to know why we don’t deserve our own baby, why we should have to go through trying for so long, doing everything right, yet rewarded with more heart-ache and utter, utter despair. And every day I feel angry. And though people say they understand, they don’t. If I hear one more time, ‘Everything happens for a reason’, I’ll be asking just what reason there could possibly be for anyone to go through such heartbreak multiple times.

May 10th 2015 and September 9th would have been the approximate due dates of my first and third pregnancies. October 3rd and January 4th mark the dates that our babies left us.  On these days, we’ll do the things that make us happy. Walk our beautiful dog, eat cake, drink tea and, if I’m totally honest, I’ll cry. I try to be strong every day, hoping that things will get easier, but some days, you just need to stop and think. I think those days will be just that.


One Comment

  1. Gillian says:

    Thank you. Today you have helped me just by this, and I wish you every heartfelt wish for good days ahead and, when the bad days come, the strength to get through and the courage to cry if that is what feels right, no matter who is looking or what they might think. My due date would be 5th September 2015 if my world hadn’t all but fallen apart, like yours, in January. Lots of love xx