Myself and my partner are extremely lucky that we have already been blessed with a son. As soon as we found out we were pregnant with him we knew we wanted to have another child and hopefully without too large of an age gap. Therefore after the birth of our son we chose not to be on any form of contraception. When people asked us about when we were going to try for another baby I always played it cool and said “well, we aren’t trying, but we’re not not trying either.” But the reality was that every month that my period came I got a sinking feeling in my stomach that I quietly kept to myself.
In April this year (2022), for personal reasons, my partner and I decided that it may be best to not think about having another child at the moment. But life always has a way of making things happen; two weeks later, at the beginning of May I was feeling really rubbish, so I took a pregnancy test. Shock and excitement rippled through my body as I took in the positive result. Questions flew into my mind. Is this the right time? How would my partner react when we had so much going on already? Gearing myself up I went into the living room where my partner was playing with our son and asked him while laughing shakily…
“Are you ready for another one?”
He looked from me to the test I was holding up in my hand and said “Are you joking?”
“No”
“Are you really pregnant?”
“Yes” I laughed.
“Wait, are you or aren’t you?”
“I’m pregnant!”
The beam on his face as he stood up with our son and held us all, laughing and smiling, was one of the top highlights of my life. All my anxiety of whether this was the right time totally disappeared and it just felt 100% meant to be. My partner said it perfectly – “we really just needed some good news”. We had been dealing with a lot of loss from his side of the family the past couple of years so he was right. We did really need something positive to look forward to. Bursting with excitement I got myself registered online with my local midwifery team while he bathed our son. I didn’t want to waste another moment.
With our son we told all our very close relatives about our pregnancy pretty much straight away, but this time my brother and his partner were just two weeks away from having their second baby boy and we didn’t want to take any of the shine away from them; this was their time, ours was coming. So we decided to just tell my parents for now.
A couple of days after the positive pregnancy test I found myself with a severe sharp pain in my lower right abdomen. Immediately I was concerned that it was an ectopic pregnancy so I dialled 111 and they arranged an out of hours appointment. After hours at the hospital taking blood tests and urine tests I was then sent to another hospital to their Early Pregnancy Unit (EPU). I was told I was booked in for another blood test that weekend. Fast forward to the results coming back from the second blood test, everything was looking positive but they were bringing me back in a few days later for a scan just to make sure everything was in the right place.
The scan showed that the pregnancy was in the right place, but I did have a 2.4 cm cyst on my right ovary that likely caused the pain. The pregnancy was too early to show a heartbeat so I was told to come in a week later. Again the pregnancy was too early so a further scan was booked 10 days later, where I was thrilled to see my little bean fluttering around energetically with a heartbeat. I left the hospital over the moon with my first scan picture.
After the high of the scan wore off doubts started to creep in. On my first scan the dates didn’t add up with my estimated due date (EDD) – my scan showed that I was a week earlier than expected. I asked my midwife on a follow up phone call how far along my third scan showed I was. It was showing I was even earlier now, pushing towards two weeks earlier than my EDD. My midwife didn’t seem concerned so I tried to push the niggling feeling to the back of my mind. However, time definitely was dragging now as my due date on my pregnancy app had started off at the beginning on January but was now at the middle.
I focused on the positive that I had heard a heartbeat and desperate to share our news and scan photo with someone else we decided to tell my partner’s closest living relatives. They were clearly shocked but excited for us. Since this was my second pregnancy I was already starting to show and I was very bloated, so it was nice not to have to hide my new shape from some people.
A few weeks went by where we were planning our new future as a family of four and the negative thoughts were well and truly pushed to the back of my mind. We were so close to the end of the first trimester, the dating scan was booked and I had already thought of cute ways we would announce our pregnancy to the rest of our family and friends.
Then on Wednesday evening at 10weeks+3 I went to the toilet and when I looked at my underwear I found brown discharge. Panicking I ran downstairs to my partner, thinking the worst. I rang the midwife team straight away who assured me that it was very common but if I was still worried the next day I could ring the EPU.
The next morning my underwear again had a small amount of brown discharge and more when I wiped after using the toilet. Still anxious, I rang the EPU who asked if I had any cramping – “no, it’s more like a trapped wind feeling”. They assured me that was normal and not to worry but to get back in touch if I got cramps or if the discharge turned to fresh blood. The brown discharge was old blood likely from implantation that hadn’t expelled at the time.
Hanging up the phone I felt completely on edge so of course I did what you really shouldn’t do: I googled. It came up with ‘brown discharge is very common’ which put my mind at ease but then along with that came the dreaded word ‘miscarriage’. Carrying on my search I came across chat groups where women had similar symptoms to me and the outcomes were mostly positive, but a few people had sadly had a miscarriage.
I tried to keep positive over the next day but by Friday evening the discharge seemed more watery and like it had more of a red tinge. And was that mild cramping I could feel? Feeling a wreck I called the EPU again. They told me that unfortunately I would just have to wait out the weekend and see what happened, and if it was a miscarriage it was just ‘nature’s cruel way’. If things got worse a doctor may see me in an emergency, they said, but I likely wouldn’t get a scan. Hanging up I felt totally worried and alone. I called my mum in tears telling her I knew what was happening. She tried to reassure me and reminded me of my cyst and said it could be that.
The next day my discharge was now fresh blood. My mum encouraged me to call back the EPU and tell them about my cyst and my new symptoms, they booked me in for a scan on the Monday morning as there were no scans over the weekend. If my bleeding or pain got very bad I was to go straight to A&E.
Feeling a bit better now that I at least had an appointment booked, but exhausted by the events from the past couple of days I went to bed for an afternoon nap. I woke late afternoon and felt like the mild cramps from the day before were slightly worse. I went downstairs and took some paracetamol but it was quickly apparent that it wasn’t normal cramping, it was very intense cramps with a sharp stabbing pain, all in my lower abdomen.
I was still expelling fresh blood but not much, there were only drops in my pad and a bit more after urinating and wiping but more like a light period. For the first time since the discharge began I thought this might actually be the cyst. Even though it could clearly be dangerous for me if this was the case I felt relief and positivity about my pregnancy.
I called my parents to see if one of them could have my son while my partner took me to the hospital to get checked out. My pain was getting quite intense and if it was my cyst it needed seeing to. My dad said he would go with me to hospital, since it was going to be nearing my son’s bedtime he thought he would be best staying with my partner. I agreed. I was in a bit of pain by then and it meant I didn’t have to try to run around to get my son’s bedtime things ready.
By the time my dad got to me the cramps had got worse. They were a constant dull pain with flashes of sharp stabbing pain coming every few minutes which were so intense I couldn’t move. Our closest A&E is not at our closest hospital, it is over 30 minutes away. My mum, being positive at this point that it was my cyst, had told my dad to just take me to the closest hospital, which has an urgent care unit, because I just needed to see a doctor ASAP. We went in and I got taken into the back to be seen by a nurse pretty much straight away. By then the pain had got even worse and when the sharp pain came I struggled to talk at all. The nurse asked me why I came to this hospital as they didn’t have a pregnancy unit, I explained I just needed to get seen by someone quickly as I thought it was my cyst. She left me and soon a doctor came in who asked the same thing. Again I explained that I was concerned it was my cyst and needed seeing straight away. At this point my pain was getting extremely bad and was actually worse than when I was in labour with my son, but the bleeding was still very light.
The doctor felt my abdomen and I told him where the pain was and then I was asked to do a urine sample. This took me a while I was just in too much pain to need to urinate but eventually I hobbled my way to the toilet to try to get a sample which I did so successfully. While I was there I got a phone call on my watch as I had left my phone in the waiting room with my dad. It was a doctor at the EPU at the other hospital. The doctor I had just spoken to had called her and she couldn’t get in touch with him so she got my details from my records and called me directly. She went over my symptoms with me and could hear I was in a lot of pain. She explained that they had a bed for me if I needed it overnight for pain management and that I was to go there to get checked but I may not get my scan until the original booked slot on Monday.
I went to the find the doctor and then got my dad and told him we had to go to the EPU at the other hospital which was over 30 minutes away. My pain was excruciating by this point and I told my dad I wanted to change my sanitary towel before we went, thinking that I wanted to protect my mum’s car seat. Once I was freshened up my dad helped me to the car. Walking was difficult at this point as I was doubled over in pain. As soon as we left the hospital it was like a switch had been hit and the pain intensified to the point where I couldn’t talk. Then I began to bleed, and I mean really bleed. The fresh pad I had put on 5 minutes ago was soaked through and the blood was coming through my pants. Every time I got a rush of that horrific pain that made me convulse, another gush of blood came seeping out of me.
My dad, who had been a fire fighter for years and so has been in many emergency situations, was great. He put his foot down to get us onto the motorway as fast as possible whilst reassuring me, as I was clearly starting to panic. I reached behind me for a bag ready to vomit as the pain had made me nauseous. I genuinely thought I was going to die and in between pain and convulsions I told this to my dad. I started to struggle to breathe. I was sweating, but I was cold. My lower abdomen was in agony, pain I had never felt before. And the rest of my body was aching from the rigid convulsions of trying to deal with the pain.
We eventually pulled up outside the women’s unit building. My dad left the car in the ambulance bay and dragged me, blood-soaked, to the lift. Once we were inside the EPU ward and had told the receptionist we were there I sat on the floor waiting for the doctor, not even able to pull myself onto a chair. The pain and the bleeding was a constant at this point. The doctor came in, saw me and went to get me a wheelchair so they could take me to a private room. Once they got me onto a bed they got to work with getting my wrist bands sorted and putting on their PPE. The doctor said she would get me an IV after they examined me.
My dad asked if they thought it was my cyst. The doctor replied “no”. She had spoken to the consultant while we were on our way there and my worst fear had been confirmed. I had lost our baby. Crying, I looked at the doctor and said I knew that’s what it was.
I was still in a huge amount of pain as they examined me using a speculum to look inside. I could then feel the scraping and straight away I knew what was happening. Gripping my dad’s hands, I wept from the pain of the procedure and for the loss of my child. After a few minutes the doctor stopped and said I was in so much pain because the tissue had got trapped in my cervix and that once it was all out I should feel better. She said she was going to get the consultant.
When the consultant came in she came straight over to me, held my hand and told me how sorry she was for my loss and that she understood completely as she had been through it herself. I burst into tears from her compassion. She said she knew I was in pain and asked if I was ready for her to get it done and I nodded. Again I had the speculum inserted and could feel the pressure and the physical and emotional pain of my little baby being scraped away from inside of me. I was traumatised.
As soon as the consultant was finished, and even before the speculum was removed, the horrific, intense physical pain I had been experiencing just vanished completely and I was relieved. Then it clicked why the pain had gone and the relief was instantly replaced by guilt for being relieved, and then disbelief and devastation. My baby was well and truly gone. There was no trying to think positive anymore, there was no maybe it’s this or maybe it’s that. It was final. I was not having my baby. Again, I wept.
The consultant came to hold my hand again, with tears in her eyes, and consoled me. She ensured me it wasn’t my fault. She told me to grieve, to process and when my partner and I were ready, to try again. She praised my dad for being there for me. She then explained that even though I was nearly 11 weeks, at that point the embryo was only around 6 weeks. My last scan I had I was 7 weeks, so it had not grown properly throughout the pregnancy although I was not told if they could tell how long it had not had a beating heart.
The consultant asked me what I would like to happen to the remains. The question stumped me, it is not something I had thought of. I asked what the options were and she said we could have the hospital be responsible for the cremation, or take the remains home and either have a burial or arrange for a private cremation. I asked if the hospital would arrange the cremation. She explained that my baby would be taken with other recently departed ‘remains’ and that they would be cremated together on the same stone but away from each other. I would have to fill out a permission form before I left.
The doctor asked me if I still wanted the IV and I declined I was no longer in physical pain and I just wanted to get home to my partner and son. Then the reality hit me that I still had to break the news to my partner that we were no longer having our baby. Again, grief washed over me.
A nurse came and explained the form to me which I filled in. I have requested the ashes if there are any and my partner and I have discussed having them made into jewellery or a diamond.
It is now Monday night and the miscarriage happened on Saturday night. I cried and talked with my partner into the early hours of Sunday morning, spent most of Sunday sleeping and today I feel empty. Completely unable to process what has happened. The actual events of the miscarriage were so traumatic (which I am sure they are for everybody no matter how it plays out) but I feel so alone in it. I understand that the way my miscarriage happened is a little unusual and I feel like I am stuck on that, unable to process it all or start really grieving for the life I have lost.
Writing this essay has been very cathartic and will hopefully enable me to start to move on from the actual physical side of the miscarriage and deal with the loss itself. I hope.