#misCOURAGE story, 09/02/2017, by annoymous
My partner (H) and I had been so desperate for a baby after our nephew was born, we started trying when he was 3 months old.
I will never forget a detail about when I found out we were expecting our little miracle. It was a Saturday morning, my period was 6 days late. I had bought a pack of 2 clear blue digital tests (which both came back inconclusive) and waited nervously in the bathroom.
We eventually went into town and I bought another 2 tests from boots. I went off to the toilet to try again and got yet another inconclusive result.
When we got home I tried for the 4th time and saw that little plus sign - we were over the moon.
My partner had written me a hand written letter about how happy he was and how excited he was to be a daddy.
We had plans to go out for our friends birthday and stopped off at my dads on the way home and spoke to him about the pregnancy news. He was so supportive. We went home, got all excited and went to bed; over the moon that we were going to be parents.
The next morning we took another test; just to be sure. It came back positive and everything seemed to fall into place. H was covering at a different store that day, I offered to drop him off but he told me to stay in bed and rest.
About 3 hours later, I went to the toilet and saw light pink blood. Assuming it was implantation bleeding I thought nothing of it.
It later got heavier and I got in touch with 111; I spent some time in a nearby hospital having blood tests done to confirm pregnancy. I went to my mums house afterwards and felt a massive clot fall out of me.
I knew then that my baby was gone; I called my mum upstairs. I was screaming and crying and desperate to get this clot out of the toilet to take to the hospital with me.
111 told me to get to a&e asap; I drove to the store H was covering at to pick him up immediately. There was no way I was doing this alone; when we got to the hospital we had a long wait.. it was the European championship final which kept H occupied while I got restless in the waiting room.
When we were eventually seen I had a canula put into my arm and then my hand and we were taken to the early pregnancy unit. We spent the night and in the morning were told the heart breaking news that we were losing our baby at 5 weeks 6 days.
Nothing ever prepares you for that kind of news; I think of our baby every day.
Where I should be at in our pregnancy, whether it would have been a boy or a girl; whether they would have my blonde or H's dark brown hair. Every detail I have thought of over and over.
People tell me enough time has passed and I shouldn't feel this emotional still but they haven't carried a baby and then had it snatched away before they could even feel a kick, they haven't experienced the pain we felt that day.
I don't think I will ever get over it, I'll just learn to hide how I feel better. I fell into a deep pit of depression (which is strange because I work in mental health) and I'm still clawing my way out many months later.
At 5 weeks 6 days, our precious angel joined our Grandparents in heaven and watches over us with them every day.
Mummy and Daddy love you baby, so very much. I know you know that, if love could have saved you; you would have lived forever.
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