Story of #miscourage by Rhiannon,
The minute you see those two pink lines is the minute your world changes forever. No matter how much you weren't expecting it, or if you were but daren't hope it be true, that's where it all begins...the hope, the plans, the dreams of what will soon be.
I was feeling this and a whole lot more in early November 2013.
No I hadn't been expecting it but did that make me any less excited?? Hell no! I was worried about telling my partner (now husband) more apprehensive than worried, but these worries were soon forgotten when he gave me the biggest hug and the biggest smile. We have two young daughters and whilst we knew it was early days and not to say anything yet until we'd had a scan, we let ourselves hint at tiny things "the girls might need to share a room", "gutted we threw that Moses basket away", "maybe we could pick some stuff up second hand". Two weeks later, in a moment, it was over. I'd woken up after a lovely lie in and I was bleeding. My heart stopped. I prayed for it not to be true. I'm not overly religious but in that moment I begged God for it not to be true. I took a pregnancy test, it was still positive. Maybe it would be ok? But you know, deep down, when things aren't ok.
You cling on to a sliver of hope but you know. I was currently six weeks pregnant and later that day I saw my baby pass naturally. It was no bigger than a jelly bean but I knew what it was.
An appointment at the EPU (early pregnancy unit) confirmed I had no pregnancy hormones left. The miscarriage had been complete. I was devastated and heartbroken. However, I had two little girls I had to stay strong for and a partner who I'm sure didn't want to see me crying all the time. So I kept my feelings to myself, gave myself one day of crying while the girls were at school, and told myself it was for the best.
Time went on and friends got pregnant and had babies. Each time I would tell myself I was fine and I obviously wasn't meant to have a big family. Sometimes I'd want another baby so bad it hurt, other times I just buried any thoughts away and got on with the day to day. We didn't discuss trying for another baby probably because it hurt too much.
Fast forward three years and I was convinced I couldn't conceive (well it had only happened once in six years) so put thoughts of babies out of my head. Now that both my girls were in school full time I started planning a career for myself as a teaching assistant so I could go back to work and have something for me.
In April this year I felt different and I was late. Not an unusual thing but what harm would doing a test do? Shocked.....speechless....unbelieving....two strong lines appeared. I couldn't bring myself to tell my (now) husband for a few days. Partly to make sure it wasn't a dream maybe? Partly to protect him if it went wrong again. I think it's fair to say I was terrified....terrified of getting excited, terrified to tell him as it would make it real and terrified, of course, that it would go wrong.
I got to six weeks and when all seemed ok I let myself relax a little but I was obsessed with checking myself when I wiped, obsessed with every cramp and twinge I felt. My now seven year old youngest daughter still liked to be picked up, I even made excuses not to do that, just in case.
When at seven weeks my appetite started going, I started feeling sick all the time and bone tired, I didn't complain as it meant things were as they should be. I had my booking appointment with the midwife at 8 weeks and at 9 weeks 1 day I noticed something when I wiped, not blood as such, but rang the midwife. She said it's probably nothing but to ring the EPU to be safe.
We were booked in for four days later. I was still feeling so sick, my boobs were sore and I couldn't stay awake past 8 o'clock. My husband took the day off work, I told him he didn't need to but he wanted to be there to see the baby for the first time.
Off we went to the EPU, me with my full bladder and tiny round tummy, feeling nervous but a little excited. I've been for scans before I knew the drill, lie down, cold jelly, find baby on the scan. Only this time the sonographer took a long time to find the baby, or rather she could find the baby but no heartbeat. She asked if she could do an internal scan and if my husband wanted to wait outside. Then she said it..."I'm so sorry" and I cried and cried and cried and my husband came in, I don't know where he came from, and I was clinging onto him, begging, pleading for it not to be true. But it was. My baby that I'd so longed for and prayed for for over three years, had died just three days earlier.
The rest of the day went in a blur, more scans to be sure, talk with the doctor, crying, tissues, options, decision to make, phone call to my sister, emptyness, distraught sick feeling. I don't know how I got through it. My poor husband didn't know what to say or do. So we went shopping as I didn't want to go home until I had my girls with me.
I felt all the cliques....numb, in shock, heartbroken. I questioned everything I did three days before...did I lift something? Had I eaten something? I must have done something to stop my tiny baby's heart beating. I'd been morbidly obsessed with googling miscarriage rates, had I wished my baby away? All ridiculous things to think in the cold light of day. One thing I was sure about, I couldn't do this again. I couldn't go through the heartbreak a third time.
My girls, my sister and my husband got me through the next few days. We had a lovely weekend but I was never very far away from tears. The Monday came and we went back to the hospital. I'd opted to go for medical management as I couldn't wait for my baby to pass. If it was over, I wanted it over. I didn't want to be waiting and feeling still pregnant.
Then that was it.
I don't know what I expected. A follow up call maybe? A referral to speak to someone? Seemed like it couldn't be the end. I wanted to talk about my baby and what happened but I didn't want to be a burden on my family and friends. That's when I found the stories on Tommys and they were the comfort I needed. I needed to know I wasn't alone, that what I was feeling was normal.
I needed to remember my baby bean.
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