Beauty in the unspoken tragedy

For a non maternal person you changed me overnight. I loved you, I talked to you. You may as well know your Mum's a fruit loop early on.

Missed Miscarriage

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#misCOURAGE, 05/07/2017, by Tori

11 weeks. The excitement was building. You'd made me so tired I could fall asleep stood up, so sick I was chewing ginger ice cubes, so tender I couldn't cuddle your Dad and felt like I was already bursting out my bra. 

For a non maternal person you changed me overnight. I loved you, I talked to you. You may as well know your Mum's a fruit loop early on. Your Dad would gently kiss my stomach every night asking you stay safe.

I'd had to change all my chronic pain medication, as we fell pregnant very quickly. It was frightening as there was so little information on what was safe. We managed it all and were anxious to get that first scan. Excited to be able to tell everyone finally.

I'd been on the loo what felt like every hour that day. Just put it down to pregnancy symptoms. When leaving work I nipped again and to my shock found blood. It was a Thursday night and I panicked calling your Dad. We both rushed to the local hospital. 3 agonising hours later they found I had a UTI and this could be the cause. The bleeding seemed to stop. I called the midwife the next day. Spotting blood is quite common in pregnancy. She tried to move my scan but couldn't as it was the weekend. 

I continued to bleed and had mild cramping. So we went to a bigger local hospital that night. My first internal exam. We felt a little reassured as the bleeding was light and appeared old. The scan was moved forward to Tuesday.

I tried to stay calm for you, I didn't want to stress our beautiful baby but time stood still. Days.... hours.... minutes.... seconds all endless. I meditated and spoke to you. Mum and Dad came and everyone looked after me. Sunday night the pain grew and I tried to sleep.

By morning bright red blood had come and I was soaking pads. We rang the hospital and they made an appointment for 2pm, saying to go to A&E if things got worse. The minute we put the phone down a surge of pain hit my pelvis. I went to the loo and a large clot came, in the panic we kept it worried it was you. 

The worst car journey of our life. Waves of pain and what I now know were labour contractions, intensified by my existing nerve pain. The A&E receptionist was brilliant and rang the ward to avoid me waiting.

Your Dad took me up and I was quickly seen. A second internal exam confirmed lots of clots. Finally an emergency scan was booked for an hours time. My parents had set off to go home, so not to be in the way but they turned up and I was so glad to see them.

We went took me down for the scan. We didn't realise we'd have to go through a waiting room of healthy pregnant women, kids and babies. I sobbed into your Dad's chest as he covered my ears. I shut my eyes and asked you were ok by some miracle.

In the scan room, which I had imagined with excitement just a week before, I stared at your Dad and squeezed his hand. Then time stopped.

We'd lost you. Our hearts broken in an instant. There was something oddly beautiful in the 10 minutes we both sat and sobbed in a private room. We knew it would make our love stronger.

We thought that was the end of the trauma. We didn't know it was the beginning. Back on the ward I was handed leaflets about choices and given mild pain killers. They did nothing. It was quiet so I asked your Dad to take me to the loo. I felt so faint with pain I started to go. I woke up to your Dad and 4 nurses and whisked into a private room.

I was given liquid morphine and the Dr wanted to use medication to speed up the contractions. She knew that would scare me but assured me they would control the pain. The morphine took an age to work at all. My sister arrived and being medically trained tried to check everything. Told me to keep taking paracetamol as it boosts the morphine. 

Your Dad helped me to a commode every half hour as I was filled with fluid as losing so much blood. He dutifully took each pot away as the nurses had to search them for you. 

At midnight another internal exam was needed to make sure I didn't need an operation. This Dr was amazing, she took a step back when I said my nerve pain was raging. She brought me gas and air for the procedure and said to keep it all night to help. She made daft jokes which actually helped. We'd been doing this with my sister as it broke the pain. I was given more pills to speed the miscarriage and left to sleep. 

We didn't sleep. My new found nurse, your Dad, camping on the floor. I tried to sneak to the commode once whilst he slept but got spotted and told off. 

The next day lasted forever. The last internal exam they felt confident things were slowing down. I could be allowed to eat and maybe go home. Both my sister and your Dad went briefly out and came back with lovely jewelry, something I could keep, where we couldn't keep you.

Finally I was allowed to go. Exhausted, in pain and emotionally broken we went home. I thought I'd recover quickly but the blood loss left me anemic. I couldn't hardly go up and downstairs for a week. The pain meds and iron tablets left my stomach a mess. Your Dad made me fresh juices which helped a little. Such a good nurse I felt sad you'd never get to feel his amazing hugs and experience his tender love. 

A week passed and oddly I had the urge to look up why we never saw the embryo sac. It wasn't on the ultra sound, it wasn't passed in hospital. Could you really just disappear. The bleeding had reduced so I went to the loo as normal. Something heavy dropped out. I panicked but tried to stay calm. This was different it was heavy and grey and I knew you were inside.

I popped you in a box in the fridge. It seemed the oddest thing but your Dad had popped out so I didn't know what to do. I'd felt you grow inside me, change my body I couldn't just flush you. Although in the shock I nearly did. You were our baby too so we had to choose together.

We decided we'd buy a rose and plant you with it so you could help it grow and be with us until we die. A beautiful new baby was at the checkout and I almost laughed at how cruel life could be. The parents looked exhausted and the baby started crying- wow I could take that kind of tired right now.

That day I started to feel and see the beauty in tragedy. The beauty of feeling rain wash away your tears as I walked to the park and felt the joy of being outside for the first time in a week. The beauty of your Dad and how amazing him and my loving family and friends had been. The beauty of the rose we picked for you. The beauty of this Charity letting the unspoken be spoken, celebrating our babies short but amazing life's.

The focus on everything that was truly beautiful and meaningful in my world. You'll forever be in our hearts. Sleep safe little one. 

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Please note that the opinions expressed by users in Tommy’s Book of #misCOURAGE are solely those of the user, who is unlikely to have had medical training. These opinions do not represent the opinions of Tommy’s and are not advice from Tommy's. Reading individual, real-life experiences can be a helpful resource, but it is never a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis or treatment from a qualified health care provider. We strongly advise readers not to take drugs that are not prescribed by your qualified healthcare provider. If you think you may have a medical emergency, call your doctor, midwife or hospital immediately. Read full disclaimer


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