Story of #miscourage by Stacey,
I came off the mini pill on New year's day 2017.
My partner and I felt we were ready to try for a baby, something that we both knew that we'd always wanted.
I waited for one regular period, as I was advised by my doctor, and then we started trying. I couldn't believe my luck, we got pregnant that first month. It was incredible, and we were so excited. I struggled not to go out and tell the world.
At about 9 weeks I told family and close friends, and they shared in our excitement. I'd been to my first midwife appointment, but as there was no examination of any kind done there was no way of knowing what was going on.
At 10 weeks and 2 days I went to the toilet in work and noticed bright red blood. I was terrified, I called the doctors who booked me in to the early pregnancy unit the next day. I continued to bleed over night, but there was no sudden rush or pain, it was like a light period. I still believed that everything could be okay.
The next day we turned up 3 hours early for the appointment, I couldn't bear to sit at home.
I watched streams of pregnant women coming in, some obviously in labour, and I watched people leaving with their precious babies. It felt cruel to have the department's side by side.
We went in for a scan, and I honestly believed that there would be a baby on that screen. It took seconds for them to be able to tell us that there was nothing there. A blighted ovum. A tiny sac, about 1 cm long, with nothing inside it.
They checked my dates, just in case I could have just been less far along than I'd thought but from when I knew I'd had a positive test there was no chance that there wouldn't be something to see by now. The nurses were so kind, and so gentle, and we were broken. A baby that I'd already built a future for was gone. We made an appointment for in a weeks time as I still needed to lose the remaining tissues.
I spent that week staring at the walls and waiting for the pain and the blood. The pain came, wave after wave of cramps so strong that they took my breath away. The blood never really did. It never got heavier than my heaviest of periods, never gushed, but there were clots, and I knew that one of them was my baby that never got to be. I felt huge amounts of guilt, that I couldn't keep our baby safe. That I couldn't bring our longed for little one into the world. I knew it was my fault. I wish I'd have known from the start how likely this was to happen. I felt so naive, but I really didn't know the odds.
A week later we went for our appointment, and everything was gone. It was over. I was really glad that I'd needed no intervention.
The nurses were so kind again. I had the term blighted ovum explained to me, and I actually felt comforted to know that there never had been a baby. It felt like less of a loss. I know that for some women this is the exact opposite of what they would like to hear, but that's what I took from it and it helped. I'm glad that I'd only told people that I was happy to tell about the miscarriage that I was pregnant. I'm grateful that we didn't get to the 12 week scan and find out then. At least we knew something might be wrong by the time we were watching that screen for the first time.
We're now 7 months down the line, actively trying to conceive, still not pregnant.
It feels cruel, since it happened first time last time. In time I've come to accept that it was probably just one of those things, I don't feel so guilty now, but it still hurts, what could have been. The hardest day was passing my due date, and not even being pregnant. That was tough.
I'm lucky to have an amazing partner and a supportive group of family and friends around me. I got through it, and I know that I'll be fine. I just wish I'd have known the chances of miscarriage beforehand.
I feel like I could have prepared a bit more.
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