In 2011 I gave birth to a beautiful healthy baby. I had a very quick labour and we were released from the birthing unit after a few days. I went on to haemorrhage a few days later and was rushed back in to hospital.
2013 comes along and I found out that I was expecting baby number 2! I was so excited, I was half way through my first degree but having a family was more to me than anything.
16th April we sat in the waiting room of the hospital for our first scan, we’d bought our tokens to get our scan photos and we waited our turn. My name was called and we excitedly scurried off to the room. And this was the last time I remember being truly excited about anything in life. What happened next broke us in ways we didn’t know humans could be broken.
As I lay on the bed and they started the scan, moving the screen away a bit more, the sonographer said, “I’m just going to get my colleague.” They both returned and carried on scanning. My nerves were building up at this point, I could tell by their faces that something was wrong. Nothing prepared me for the following words…
“I’m really sorry there’s no heartbeat.”
I’d had regular morning sickness, I had a small bump, I hadn’t had any bleeding – I couldn’t understand, how could our baby be gone?
We sat and cried together, we held each other and then we were asked to return to the waiting room for further instruction.
What?!
You want us to sit in the room with all the pregnant people, having just told us our baby has died….? We’re too numb to argue…. We got up, we walked out, tears streaming down our faces still, and there we froze as all these mums and partners sat around us.
My partner went to the desk to ask whether we could wait somewhere else. Eventually they found us a small room to sit and wait in until they finally came to tell us what would happen next. They gave us a brown envelope of leaflets for charities that could offer support and other guidance leaflets on what was to come.
I went to work that evening, I didn’t in that moment know what I was meant to do, I was meant to be working so I did that. I was lost and confused, I didn’t want to think about it. I just wanted to be ok, I just wanted my baby to be ok.
3 days later I miscarried our precious little baby, Maali.
I continued to suffer from morning sickness for 2 weeks after I miscarried. I had to have numerous blood tests and scans done all to come back clear and no further treatment was necessary. .
In 2018, I had just graduated with my 2nd degree when I found out I was expecting again. I was so nervous, I couldn’t get excited because I just had this dread that something was going to go wrong. My partner was over the moon and was planning out everything from the moment we found out.
10 weeks in and I started bleeding a bit, my partner rushed me to the hospital and they tried to fob me off with “it’s just a bit of spotting, it’s expected at this stage, go home and get some rest, you’ll be fine.”
NO. I’m not leaving until we know the baby is ok. I explained my previous loss and they honestly couldn’t have cared less.
How can baby loss be a taboo subject even in a hospital? I pleaded with them, breaking down in tears. Eventually they booked us in and we waited and waited. I’m pretty sure time slows down in hospitals.
I had a scan, only this time, I was prepared, I knew they were going to tell me I was losing the baby, I just knew it.
I didn’t expect to be told I had lost one but was still pregnant with the other – twins!!!
I was classed as high risk.
2 weeks pass and I wake up with this almighty pain, and sadly miscarried the twin. Jungle & Casey.
I don’t really remember much after this. I had a D&C. I had to take some time to recover and try and remember who I was as a person…
I still had my daughter, my first born, but I’ve never been the same mum I was to her at the beginning.
I battled severe depression and anxiety, I had support from friends and organisations but ultimately I had to learn how to be a new version of me. Because the person I was before, died with my babies.