#misCOURAGE story by Isla Anderson,
After trying for 19 months, my partner and I finally conceived. I was exactly twelve weeks pregnant on Christmas Day and hadn't had any bleeding or signs of a miscarriage so merrily started telling family we were expecting. At the first scan a few days later, the midwife said that there was no heartbeat and the fetus stopped developing at 7.5 weeks. My first feeling was one of horror. I felt so betrayed that my body had rejected the baby but didn't even bother to let me know.
I couldn't stand the thought of waiting for the pregnancy to pass of its own accord (I'm a teacher and thought: what if I was teaching a class and blood started to run down my legs?) so I opted to have medical management. So now I was learning of a missed miscarriage for the first time and I was soon to learn that a miscarriage can be a lot worse than a 'heavy period'. The suppositories didn't work: I simply lost a lot of blood, had vomiting and diarrhoea and the worse pain I have ever felt due to the cramps.
After twelve hours, the midwife tried to manually remove the tissue before my cervix closed. This didn't work so a doctor tried, meanwhile a nurse had to pin my shoulders down and stroke my hair because it was just agony. Eventually, when I fainted, they decided a D&C was required. My body went into shock but I recovered in time to leave hospital for Hogmanay.
My partner and I immediately started trying again. A few weeks later, a doctor phoned to say the pathologist suspected it was a molar pregnancy. I didn't realise anyone was inspecting the remains.
I thought it must have been a partial molar pregnancy because there was a fetus. However, it took another six weeks but the specialist doctors confirmed it was a complete molar pregnancy. The fetus on the scan must have been a twin. I was crushed. A complete molar pregnancy meant a greater risk of requiring chemotherapy treatment and it meant a longer monitoring period (an extra three months) before I could try again.
Finally I was cleared to try again. While waiting, my partner and I had tests carried out which resulted in a referral to the fertility clinic.
I have now spent the last three years trying for a baby. In that time, my group of friends (all women in their thirties who I have known since school) have given birth to five babies and another one is pregnant. No one has the courage to ask me how I'm doing.
Now I am eight weeks pregnant. No apps on the phone, no announcements, no planning ahead for work, no thinking about names. Just sheer terror.
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