My husband and I decided we wanted a family as soon as we got married and hoped for a honeymoon baby. As it was, it took 9 months to get pregnant and we were delighted and very excited. I started spotting at six weeks but thought nothing of it. Just an excuse to have the afternoon off work and a chance to see our baby earlier than the planned 12 week scan. We were excited when I lay on the bed to be scanned. Then we heard the words, 'I'm sorry, but I can't find a heartbeat'. After a chat with a male doctor we decided to head home for a natural miscarriage. I was told it would be like 'a heavy period'.
I was ill prepared and it was scary and awful, not at all like a heavy period.
We picked ourselves up and decided to try again. It took another few months to get pregnant again but, great news, my Sister in Law was pregnant as well and we were due within weeks of each other. Perfect!
I miscarried again at 7 weeks. It was a very hard time, but surely it was over now. I read on the internet that one, maybe Two miscarriages were fairly common so it was highly unlikely to happen again. After another 7 months of trying we got pregnant on a romantic trip to Edinburgh. We had a early scan at 8 weeks and everything was perfect, we nicknamed him Jock. The 12 week and 20 week scan were all good and we started to plan for his arrival. At 23 weeks I had back pain and suspected a water infection which the doctor later confirmed. However, later that evening I bled and went to hospital to be told I was in premature labour.
They managed to stop it but not before Jock's membranes and his tiny foot were poking out of my cervix. The consultants tried, under anaesthetic to put him back but it didn't work. I managed to hold on to him in hospital for 4 days but then a scan told us he had passed away. I had to give birth and we spent a few precious moments with him, organised a funeral and then my world fell apart without him! The hospital grief counsellor, friends and family helped put us back together again and we continued striving to achieve our dreams of a family of our own. We couldn't give up now!
On New Year's Day (4 months after losing Jock) we found out I was pregnant again. A fabulous start to 2006. Short-lived joy turned to devastation once more when I miscarried at five weeks. We got pregnant again a few months later (if one more person said, 'At least you know you can get pregnant'). This one was particularly cruel as I had spotting at 7 weeks and went for a scan. We saw a strong heartbeat and were strongly reassured everything was OK. We headed home, my husband was dispatched to the takeaway for dinner. By the time he got home, I had lost the baby.
I was in the depths of hell. I'd lost my babies, I lost friends, those who didn't know what to say and those with babies I couldn't bare to see.
I couldn't see a way out. I needed additional counselling and anti depressants. I didn't want to be around any more.
One day I couldn't stop crying and called an old friend needing a reassuring voice. She told me about the recurrent miscarriage clinic at Liverpool Women's Hospital (I had had lots of investigations with my local hospital but all results were normal). I got myself referred and waited 3 months for my appointment....a glimmer of hope! We met with Mr Roy Farquesen who booked me in for more investigations.
Whilst I was sat in my hospital gown waiting to be anaesthetised I was crying. Mr Farquesen held my hand and said, 'This time next year, you will have a baby'. I believed and trusted him. This was October 2006.
A few months later we got the positive pregnancy result and headed to Liverpool. I was given aspirin and high dose folic acid. Scanned every two weeks and a cervical stitch placed at 12 weeks. Mrs Quemby did all my scans on my cervix and was so reassuring throughout. In October 2007 I was induced 2 weeks early and after an almost straightforward labour (forceps delivery) my perfect baby boy was born. I didn't sleep for 24 hours, just staring at him. A miracle.
In December 2009 our beautiful daughter followed, again with the help of Mr Farquesen and his team.
Miscarriage is a lonely, desolate place. Hope for a future replaced with heartache and devastation. My experiences changed me forever.
I dedicate my story to Mr Farquesen and his team, I don't know where I would be without them.
To Jock and all my babies:
'I love you little son, as if you'd lived for years. No more, no less we think of you, the Angel of our tears.
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