My husband and I have a beautiful daughter. To us, she is a perfect little angel. She has sass, she is caring and has a real sense of style – we have been very lucky. She was an unplanned pregnancy- a very happy accident. No trying for months on end and crushing disappointment. We hadn’t been married very long when our daughter came along. It was effortless. Everything about our pregnancy was easy. While my friends and colleagues complained about morning sickness and uncomfortable, sleepless nights, we seemed to sail through. I kept quiet – not wanting to rub it in. Scans were all clear, check ups all fine – a breeze. A minor hiccup when we found out she was breech but a planned caesarean meant even labour was calm and actually a really lovely experience.
This is where I made my big mistake. Assuming that my second pregnancy would be anything like my first. Our daughter was almost at school and we finally felt ready to try for a second child – we had always had our hearts set on two. We barely tried the first month – no pregnancy. No problem, we thought, we weren’t even really trying. Next month, we tried a little harder – still my period came. The next month, we took things more seriously, I started tracking my cycle carefully, took ovulation tests and worked out my fertile days – we were serious this time – still nothing.
It was starting to get to us – was something wrong? Why was it so hard when it was so easy last time? March – our fourth month of trying – a late period, disbelief turns to excitement. A negative pregnancy test at the start of the week gives our confidence a knock, but still no period by the end of the week – finally a positive pregnancy test. We were elated, relived, excited. We started planning, I bought a little teddy and started to pull out all the baby clothes I had saved from my daughter. I rang the doctor and made arrangements to see the midwives when I was about 12 weeks.
I was 6 weeks, I was at work and I felt bloated. I put it down to normal things – too much bread! It was nothing.
The next morning I went to the loo as I got ready for work – there was a little pink discharge. Tiny I thought – it’s nothing, normal pregnancy stuff. There was a little more later that day.
The next day, more again. I did everything I could to take my mind off it – ‘it’s normal’, I thought, just ignore it. As I drove to work my stomach felt odd, the closer I got to work the more it felt like period pain. I started to panic. I got to work and went to the toilet. This time – blood, only a little but it was fresher, redder – now I was really worried.
I asked my friend what I should do – I hadn’t told anyone yet. She said, “just go”. I ran out of work and rang the doctor as I drove home. They saw me within the hour – my pregnancy test was still positive – I had hope. They sent me to the hospital, to the early pregnancy unit (EPAU). I was told there could be a bit of a wait as there were emergency cases coming in left, right and centre.
What came next was the worst 4 hours of my life. I told my husband to stay at work – I would deal with this by myself. I told myself I was overreacting and that this would all be fine. My friend was texting me to check in but no one else knew so I couldn’t speak to anyone else.
I waited, and waited and waited. Still experiencing cramps, too terrified to go to the toilet again, slowly dissolving in a quivering mess. When I was finally called in 4 hours later, I broke down into floods of tears. The room went quiet and dark and then there was silence. The lady said she thought I had lost my baby but wasn’t 100% sure – I would have blood tests and this would make it clear. The blood tests were inconclusive so I had to go back again – they still weren’t giving clear readings. I think in the end, I had to go for blood tests four times for them to tell me for sure. I didn’t need all the blood tests, I felt empty, I knew.
In films when someone loses their baby, there is blood everywhere. In reality, for me it wasn’t even as much as a regular period. Barely any really. The hormone drops were more brutal. One night I just lay in bed hysterically, uncontrollably, violently crying for what felt like hours. I think I terrified my husband, he had no clue what to do or say. He hasn’t really talked about it since.
We tried to act like nothing happened, I went back to work pretty much straight away. Only 2 people knew so nothing was said and everything carried on as normal. I thought I was doing well until our friends surprised us with their baby announcement a few weeks later. I managed to successfully pass off my tears as ones of happiness instead of pure despair. That’s when it started to become overwhelming. Looking at babies, baby adverts on TV, a miscarriage scene in a movie we were watching – it started to be all I could think about. But it felt like it didn’t happen. No one knew so it almost felt like I’d made the whole thing up in my head – like a really vivid nightmare I was remembering. But it did happen and it was so terribly, gut wrenchingly sad.
I’m a big believer that things happen for a reason. I’m still searching for my reason. I might never find my reason.
Looking back on it now, I made a lot of mistakes and there are things I wish I had known…
1. Not taking time off work – I thought that ignoring it and going back to work would, ‘take my mind off things’. I actually think it’s made me feel a lot worse. I haven’t allowed myself to grieve and so my sadness has started to explode out of me uncontrollably. (A lady in the photocopy room asked if I was okay, a passing pleasantry whilst waiting for printing – she had to experience my complete eruption into a crying mess).
2. Pretending it didn’t happen – it did happen. I was pregnant, only for a little while but I was still pregnant and I still lost my baby. I shouldn’t allow myself to lessen my loss. A loss is a loss.
3. Being angry at people for saying the wrong thing – when I did finally open up to a couple of people months later, I was met with, “oh it just happens like that sometimes, doesn’t it”, “It’s natures way”, “Lots of women have miscarriages.” People can be insensitive and say awkward things when they feel awkward themselves. My anger doesn’t change what they said or what they meant.
4. Being afraid to tell people – after the initial anger of some people’s comments, I felt like I didn’t want to tell anyone else. Like I was right to keep it a secret. I wasn’t – by doing this, I also stopped my emotions coming out and stopped myself from processing what had happened. I spoke to two wonderful people a while later and the way they reacted helped me so much. If only I had opened up sooner.
5. Letting what I don’t have, make me forget about what I do have – I lost my baby. We’re trying again but it’s been months and nothing has happened. We might not be able to have anymore children. I may never have another baby. But focusing too much on the baby and the pregnancy I don’t have means I risk forgetting about the most wonderful, funny, beautiful daughter that I do have. My daughter is a wonder and I am the luckiest mum in the world.