I woke up in the early hours to go to the toilet, like always. Was that discharge or blood? Discharge would be ok, blood I couldn’t deal with, not today.
Shock, scared, tears, what now? I went back to my room to wake Penny, my sister, and call NHS 111. On hold, sitting in the dark whispering the fears, trying not to wake anyone else. 15 minutes later we got through and I answered the questions, a specialist from the early pregnancy unit would get back to me within 2 hours. That didn’t sound too bad – if it was urgent they’d have got back to me sooner, right?
Phone on loud between us, ready for the specialist’s call. More whispering, this time of reassurance before finally falling back to sleep.
We woke early, no phone call. A text to mum ‘When you’re up come in’ 5:27am. Of course she was up, she hadn’t slept, she was too excited. We tell her, more tears but also comfort – it wasn’t a lot of blood, spotting is common in pregnancy, there was no more this morning and I hadn’t had any pain.
The morning blurred, pushing the worry aside as bridesmaids, hair and makeup arrived to start getting ready.
The specialist called at around half 11, have I been to see my doctor? No, it didn’t sound urgent from the 111 call and I hadn’t had the time this morning, it was my wedding day. A congratulations and enjoy your day, don’t worry about the blood unless you get pain, if there’s pain call us back.
Sandwiches and Prosecco (Nosecco for me) arrived. A trip to the toilet, more specks of blood. I wobble, more tears, a change of underwear.
I laid on a chaise longue in the bridal suite as the bridal party buzzed around me. If I stayed still maybe there wouldn’t be any more blood. Was that twinge the pain I was supposed to be looking out for – should I call back? Not now, the twinge had gone.
My turn for hair and makeup – waterproof mascara please.
When I walked down the aisle Charlie cried when he saw me – the reaction every bride wishes for. I smiled, being strong to protect us both. Throughout the ceremony I couldn’t help thinking about when and how I would tell him, and if he could sense my worry? I decided it was best to wait until we were alone later and enjoy the day.
Everyone says your wedding day will fly by, they aren’t wrong it really does. By 9:30pm I was exhausted, cheeks aching from smiling all day. When I went to the toilet there was new blood, this time with small clots. Penny found me a sanitary towel.
Because of the pandemic restrictions it was an intimate wedding of 26 close friends and family, all of whom knew that we were 10 weeks pregnant so I easily make my excuses about being tired and wanting to go to bed.
As soon as we were alone I let out the flood of tears that I’d been holding in, sharing the events of the morning and spilling fear of what could be happening now.
I fell asleep to wake up just after midnight with a sharp pain in my lower left abdomen. We ordered a taxi to the hospital. While we waited for it to arrive we got dressed. I remember worrying about unimportant details – it’s raining, we didn’t pack for this. I layered the two outfits I had with me for warmth – a dress over dungarees and Charlie went to find his coat for me.
The taxi smelt of wet dog, another unimportant detail. We sat masked in silence as the driver made small talk. We held hands tightly as my pain increased and inside I started falling apart.
When we arrived at A&E we were told Charlie couldn’t come in. I broke down explaining he’s my husband, it was our wedding night and we were having a miscarriage. No exceptions, the Delta variant was too prominent at the moment, so he had to wait outside. I would do this part alone.
By 4am the miscarriage was confirmed – my cervix was open and the doctor could see pregnancy tissue in the blood.
We were absolutely devastated. There is no good timing to have a miscarriage but I’d struggle to think of a worse time than your wedding night in a pandemic.
That was 2 and a half months ago now. I still put on my fake smile and am armed with my fake script whenever anyone asks about the wedding: ‘It was lovely… we had the best day… it went so fast.’ Then move the conversation on. It still shocks me the amount of comments that follow a wedding about starting a family next… if only they knew.
I hope someday that my head let’s me remember the wedding and the aftermath as separate occasions rather than having the current cloud hanging over our supposed happily ever after. When I look at our wedding photos it’s a sad smile on my face, a silent cry.
I’ve found talking about what happened helps me to process the whirlwind of emotions. It’s unbelievable how many women I know that have shared their similar stories once they found out about our miscarriage. I feel ignorant now for not having known and not being there to support them, but also optimistic that all have gone on to have healthy pregnancies.
We’re pregnant again now. 7 weeks. It happened quickly, we’re lucky to be so fertile, but we’re terrified.
It’s difficult to celebrate pregnancy while checking for blood every time you go to the toilet. When worrying that you don’t have any symptoms, or your symptoms have eased, or that twinge felt like it did the time it went wrong.