Back in May 2018, I sadly suffered a missed miscarriage. I’d honestly never heard of the term until I was sat in a side room within an Early Pregnancy Unit, hearing what was happening to me. I already had a healthy 7 year old boy from a previous relationship, whose pregnancy and birth was textbook. I was 28 years old and I had never known sadness connected to pregnancy, I’d only ever experienced happiness.
Myself and my husband knew early on that children was a wish we both shared. I was so excited for my husband to experience all the wonderful things I had already experienced.
I fell pregnant quite quickly. We told our family almost immediately and began making plans for the future with my son and Pip (our nickname for the baby). Pip factored into everything from the moment we found out and the baby was very much a part of our family right from the start.
I sailed through the first 12 weeks rather easily. My scan appointment came and at this point I was 13 weeks – I remember sitting in the waiting room with my husband excitedly explaining what he would see and counting our money making sure we had enough with us to buy the scan photos we wanted.
We entered the room and after a couple of minutes the lady said those words I’ll never stop replaying in my mind, ‘I’m so sorry, there is no heartbeat’. My heart broke.
We were taken to the EPU and given information on the next steps – I didn’t listen to a word. I sat in my husband’s arms and we both sobbed. I couldn’t believe it, this wasn’t right. These things don’t happen… except they do, and they happen all too often.
My miscarriage journey lasted a further 6 weeks. I chose surgery, but my body began the natural process before my surgery date, this then led to four days in hospital with extremely heavy bleeding and passing of large clots. Eventually the light at the end of the tunnel came and I recovered and was finally able to grieve.
I spent weeks obsessing over miscarriage stories, trying to find a clue about what our future would be. I’d failed at making my husband a father and I needed to know I could still make his dreams come true.
Almost a year to the day following the miscarriage, our beautiful son entered the world. My pain didn’t stop and I was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD following the miscarriage and post-natal depression. But with the help of my local perinatal team and my loving husband and family, everything I went through is now an empowering story I tell others to give them hope and inspiration. It does get better in time.