I am currently trying to write my own novel, a psychological thriller funnily enough. But right now as I sit here looking at this blank screen, words elude me. I don't think anyone could possibly understand the feelings, the pain, the physical scars a miscarriage can leave upon your skin or even your soul unless you have been through it. So I guess I should start this from the beginning.
I’ve already had two miscarriages before, I struggled to get pregnant so therefore, over the moon when I found out the blessed news I was expecting. Both my sisters were pregnant with their second and fourth child, this would have been my first, so I was incredibly excited to be extending my beautiful family. I won’t ever forget the look on my husband’s face as I revealed the news to him.
We held each other for a long time while whispering to each other ‘I love you’ and ‘Am I really going to be a Dad?’. It really was magical, like a scene from a movie. Everything I thought it was going to be. Perfect.
The first three months of my pregnancy took a huge toll on my body. I didn’t think carrying my beautiful child would become so hard. As I entered my second and third months, my health took a huge turn for the worse and I lost over two stone in a matter of weeks. This was due to the fact that my nausea and morning sickness was that bad, I couldn’t make it through an hour without throwing up. It became so bad, I slowly, but surely, stopped eating altogether. I just couldn’t stomach anything anymore. It was a vicious circle I ended up in, I really was hungry, I knew I was, but as soon as I ate anything, I threw it back up. It felt like my body was rejecting the food I was eating as if it was poisonous. I don’t think you can understand how guilty this made me feel knowing that I was trying to grow a child who had little to go off. I kept going to the hospital and pleaded for help, but they kept sending me home saying they’ve done as much as they can. Believe me, I tried everything to calm my sickness down. Nothing worked.
But regardless of my loss in weight, my beautiful baby bump grew and glowed. I would look down at it in awe at how amazing my body was, even though I was not feeling great, I could still mother this baby and give her what she needed.
The first three month scan went smoothly, the tiny baby waved her arms and legs as she danced around in my womb. What a feeling that was! How beautiful! I looked over at my husband who was beaming from ear to ear and I knew how perfect our little family was. This was everything I had dreamed it to be and nothing could take that away from me. The midwife handed me the scan picture and said,
“Come back in two weeks for another scan because the baby is a little small but has a healthy heartbeat. At least you are past the three month point now, get ready for September!” I left that hospital with my nose in the scan, I couldn’t take my eyes off the amazing thing my husband and I had created.
I accompanied my husband on a trip to Ireland over the weekend straight after the scan. I was looking forward to telling all the family and friends about our news and to show them the picture. However, it was this weekend for me where things changed, my sickness came back with vengeance and I couldn’t stomach anything the whole weekend. My husband’s family grew increasingly concerned for me over that weekend. I admit though, their concerns only added to mine, I was already worried. I started to get pain, but brushed it off as growing pains, that is what the doctors said, I thought. Yet I had no idea what was to come.
Hindsight is such a beautiful yet haunting thing.
If I had only seen myself with open eyes in the mirror. Over the next two weeks, my body had shrunk to a size I had never been before. My bump was a lot bigger than normal considering how far along I was. Despite how skeletal I looked, I thought it was just one of those things – after all, the doctors didn’t seem that worried.
Not once did I think what this impact was having on my husband.
My husband saw his wife go from a healthy sized, energetic woman to a skeletal version of herself, trapped lifeless on the sofa. I had no energy to do anything. Work had become so hard but I struggled on regardless because I didn’t want to let anyone down.
It took a couple of days from this point to quickly realise I was in trouble. That my bump just didn’t feel right. The weekend before the scan, my husband was away on a trip in the mountains and he was out of signal range for the majority of the time. The night before the scan, I confided in a close friend about my worries and anxiety, that I felt something was wrong with the baby and I was so scared about this scan. Obviously, as a true friend, they reassured me telling me everything was to be fine. But when the scan arrived, with my husband away, I found out my baby had died. No heartbeat. Nothing.
It was in this moment that I felt like I was in a movie or a story, I waited, no idea what for. I couldn’t say a word. Luckily, I had another close friend with me. I can’t even contemplate what receiving that news on my own would have been like. Thinking about it now, I don’t think I even felt anything in that moment, I was just so numb from hearing the words there is no heartbeat, you baby has died, I couldn’t have possibly known what to say or feel. The silence was deafening, but it wasn’t empty. It was full of words that were left unspoken as I silently sobbed.
It took hours to get hold of my husband.
I sat in my house, crying, shaking, rubbing my tummy hoping that it could start that little heart pumping again. It didn’t work.
My husband came back straight away and as soon as his red, sore eyes caught mine, we embraced as we did when I found out we were expecting. Even though he held me tight, never letting me go, I still felt incredibly alone. I felt guilty and unworthy to be a mother. I let him down. I lost our baby. I don’t think I have ever experienced a pain quite like it.
Death is so simple, so quick and so incredibly devastating.
The days after this were as you’d expect – quiet, still and sombre. My husband and I hardly said a word except for holding each other when tears filled our eyes. It was within the week I had an operation to have my beautiful girl removed. My body never realised I had lost the baby so therefore, still thought I was pregnant. As we drove to the hospital on the morning of the operation, I was still battling with morning sickness.
I was so angry at how cruel life could be! I was a good person and I knew I didn’t deserve this. How unfair it was to still have a bump, sore boobs and morning sickness.
As I said goodbye to my husband (who was putting on a brave face), and whisked off to theatre, I lay waiting for the anaesthetic, silently sobbing as it took effect, the surgeon promising to look after me during surgery. I looked at the clock tick away above my head and at 5 o’clock exactly, I closed my eyes and said goodbye to a little girl I never got to meet. I don’t know how many people will understand me when I say this, but that moment will always be etched deep in my mind and remain with me until the day I join her in the afterlife.
Sat here now writing this is just so sad. Tears that haven’t appeared for months are welling up as I write this.
It has been almost five months since that operation, I have come a long way since then. My husband and I have moved forward together through the worst of it. We took a brave step packing up all the baby stuff we had and to sort out the nursery. People obviously told us all the wrong things in the hope of comforting me such as, at least you can get pregnant, it was just a miscarriage, there is always next time, you’ll have another baby, it could have been worse.
Yes – it could have been worse, however, for me, this is the worst thing I have been through.
And the sad fact is, I would go through it again if it meant no other woman had to go through what I have been through. I know I will be a Mum one day, I look forward to receiving the news that I have been blessed with a child once more. To experience that intense love, you have for someone you are so impatiently waiting to meet.
Until then, I have picked myself up, dusted myself off and determined to raise as much money for Tommy’s by doing the Great North Run in just under a month’s time. But this run will not just be for my little girl Bobbi, I am doing it for all those babies and grieving parents who never got to meet each other. This is for you. Be strong.
All my love xxx
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