#misCOURAGE 07/09/17 by Claire
My husband Amrit and I got married on 30th July 2016, and on Boxing Day 2016 we found out we were expecting our 1st baby. And for both of us it was our 1st pregnancy ever, I'd never experienced it before. It was the happiest time of our lives and we nicknamed the bump, Bambi. We were 28 and 27, newly married and this news made us blissfully happy. In the new year I met up with my best friend to tell her the news and she started crying straight away. She then told me that she was expecting too and we worked out that we were only 2 weeks apart - I couldn't believe it!
Time went by and both Amrit and I told our mums, siblings and workplaces. I did all the right things, rested, didn't do anything stressful or strenuous, took folic acid, avoided rare meats and soft cheeses etc, with Amrit supporting me every step of the way. By the end of January I had to go out and buy new bras because none of mine now fitted. Very often I would talk to Bambi in my mind knowing that no one else in the world could hear what I was saying to my previous baby, it was our own private conversation. So in my mind I said, "Listen Bambi, If you get to have a whole new wardrobe in 9 months time, then I can at least have a few new bras OK?"
So this is where my eyes are welling up now as I type because of February. On Sat 4th Feb I was happy, energetic and naively unaware of what was about to happen. That night I couldn't sleep; I tossed and turned because I was so hot. I opened the window, splashes cold water on my face and drank cold water with ice cubes. It wasn't a particularly hot night so I just put it down to my hormones making me have hot flushes that night. The next day, Sun 5th, I felt fine and went about my day as normal; breakfast, put a wash load in the machine, washed the dishes, made lunch, the usual. Late afternoon I felt quite sweaty in my underwear, very moist. So I went to the toilet and noticed that it wasn't sweat, but blood... bright, red blood. I froze. Didn't know what to do. I'd read that a little spotting is OK and even blood can sometimes work out ok but I instantly knew that that wasn't the case with me. I knew that my baby was on her way out.
I started to cry uncontrollably shouting out loud, "It's only been 9 weeks Bambi, it's not 9 months yet! Stop it! Stay in there!"
By this point it was around 3pm in the afternoon and being a Sunday I knew the GP wasn't open. I called Amrit and told him everything hysterically down the phone. He was on his own as the supervisor of a pub and told me to go straight to a walk in centre and as soon as there was someone to cover him, he would meet me there. The walk in centre wasn't open. So I got in my car and drove to the nearest A&E. I parked the car and just sat there for a few minutes talking to Bambi in my mind, "Stay in the Bambi. Daddy is on his way and everything will be fine, you'll see."
I called Amrit and told him where I was and he said he was on his way by bus.
I waited in A&E's waiting room for 50 mins but every second felt like an hour. When I was seen by the doctor, my pad was already soaked through. He pressed on my belly and spoke about booking me in for an early ultra sound the following day. I can't really remember anything else he said, my mind was numb now. My mum was living with us at the time and when I got home I just looked at her and started to cry. No words were spoke for 10 mins, just tears and she knew.
The next day, on Mon 6th Feb, we had the scan. "I'm sorry, there's no gestation sac. At 9 weeks we should be able to see the sac, I'm sorry to say you have had a miscarriage."
"Miscarriage" that was the only word I heard. The lady carried on talking but I went deaf after that.
That was it... 9 weeks and 5 days of utter bliss - 1 day from hell.
We travelled home in silence. When we got in I emailed work and explaied why I wasn't coming in for a few days.
And that was it. Over.
After that I developed depression, was put on anti-depressents by my GP and my course of tablets are due to finish in mid Aug.
It's our 1st wedding anniversary this weekend. Last year I was so excited by marriage and what we would do or where we would go; this is really not how I thought I'd be feeling on our 1st anniversary.
Since the miscarriage, I've distanced myself from Amrit in the bedroom, I don't have that urge anymore. I'm scared that if I get pregnant again I will become bitter and resent the new bump because it won't be my original bump. And then I hate myself for even having those feelings.
So that's my story of how I lost Bambi. I couldn't have a 'Happily Ever After' ending to this story because quite frankly, when you lose your baby at any age, there is no happy ending. And I haven't gotten over it, you'll never 'get over it'. When people say "it's ok, you can try again" that really grates on me because it's not like I baked an apple pie and the pastry was soggy that I can just "try again"... my baby died! I know people are just trying to help with the grieving but sometimes I just wish people would understand that I don't want to talk about it, just giving me a hug or a "hey, anything I can do?" is so much better than any 'helpful advice'.
Now it's been nearly 6 months since we lost Bambi and sometimes when I'm alone I still cry. Lots. I lost my Catholic faith during this time and now see myself as atheist. I called out to God, I called out to the Devil, I called out to any deity up there (or down), any energy or sod it even any magical creatures, to bargain with them to bring back my Bambi. I cried myself to sleep not knowing what mystical gateway I'd opened, if any. Until the next day when nothing happened, and I lost my faith in everything. In deities, in kindness, in my own human emotions.
I became numb.
And I'm still numb.
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