You think that when the time comes to start for a baby, that a couple of attempts, a bit of Barry White and bam your pregnant. No one tells you that the next 12 weeks are the worst in the world. You assume that you will sail through the 9 months, glowing and happy and at the end of it have your beautiful baby, morning sickness and all the other lovely side effects gone and forgotten.
After my first miscarriage I was confused. Had I really been pregnant? I had a test telling me I had been, but the full on period, clots and pain told me otherwise. My GP told me its one of those things and to carry on. So we did. Though the next one and next one, again I am told its one of those things. After my 3rd loss, my GP referred me to St Mary's in London, who diagnosed a mild blood clotting issue. They told me to take aspirin and clexane. I hoped that this would work, and it did to a point... got to 8 weeks on my 4th & 5th losses. I was advised to take progesterone and got to 13 weeks on my 6th loss.
By this point I am losing hope of ever going to be a mum. My first funeral of my star and at this point you would have thought I would have said enough is enough but I cant think like that. I have fought so hard to get this far, to stop would feel so wrong. my 7th and 8th loss were at 8 weeks, because St Mary's advised to "tweak" my medication.
My 9th loss has been the hardest. I got to 15 weeks and finally allowed myself to believe.
My consultants believed, my hospital (who have been amazing) believed and I was actually starting to think beyond my losses and believe I could be a mum. I have battled so hard, did everything asked, don't smoke, drink, no caffeine, the correct vitamins. I could not believe at this late stage I am once again losing my 9th baby.
Since the loss of my daughter in Jan this year, we decided to have a little break. So much loss. Not only for the loss of both of our daughters, for all the hope and then devastation of the loss, the physical and mental shattering of having to face another day without a baby... but the loss of my identity. I became a cycle of af, ov, 2ww, af, ov, 2ww... I lost myself. We needed to become us again, so we took 6 months off. It was so hard to not do an ov test, to know every month my af was just another sign of no baby, but it did allow me to breath, for us to be us again.
Now we are trying again. This time I have gone to a different local consultant, as St Marys were insulting, embarrassing and didn't care about me, just statistics. I am not a statistic, I am a woman who needs support. My new consultant is amazing and having gone through loss herself, knows what I want to hear and tells me the truth, as well as encouraging me to keep trying. I hope that I will also be able to be referred to Tommy's in Coventry, who now have the dedicated centre for RMC to help us.
I am a mum. My stars are above us shining hope to us that we will get there. Just because I can't hold my children, does not make them less my children. I know that I still have a high mountain to climb, and that there is possibility that I still might face more losses, but I won't quit until my body says enough.
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