#misCOURAGE story, 05/06/2017, by Katy
I've decided to write my story in the hope that it inspires others to talk openly about loss, grief and the wonderful insights it can bring!
We experienced our first miscarriage the first time we tried to get pregnant.
I'd only known a week and was on my way to a wedding so I called my mum, had a quick cry and then carried on as if nothing had happened. We were sad but I read a lot about first pregnancies ending in miscarriage so knew it was just one of those things.
It was closely followed by a second miscarriage that was a lot more painful (physically) and knocked me off my feet with back pain and fatigue for about a month after.
I was so very lucky to be working in an IVF clinic at the time and my colleagues could not have been more supportive and brilliant so we bounced back quite well once the physical pain stopped.
I wished at the time that I had known how long it could take to resolve and that I might feel weak for a long time afterwards.
We went onto conceive again and at around 8 weeks I started spotting. Fearing the worst I went to my GP who told me to go home and rest.
I had a bad feeling about it so requested a referral to the early pregnancy unit where I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy. It had been a twin but one was lodged in the tube.
The process that followed was long and exhausting. I opted for conservative management rather than surgery and was monitored every few days with bloods and scans.
I was, of course, worried at the prospect of rupture but keen to keep my tube if I could. It ended up resolving itself so we were lucky again.
A few months later we fell pregnant again whilst abroad. We had a 6 week scan which showed a healthy little heartbeat but I decided to be thankful each day it stayed inside but meditate on non-attachment daily.
When at 11 weeks a scan showed the heartbeat had stopped I was sad but realistic and we made our way to Tommy's to look at options for the foetus to come out.
It was then that we were rescanned and told it was a partial molar pregnancy. This means it's growing like a tumour and must be surgically removed and then I must be closely monitored to see if further treatment is necessary (chemo).
Once again I felt incredibly lucky that as fate would have it I had worked at the national centre for molar pregnancy (at Charing Cross) so knew what it meant and what the process is. I can only imagine how scary the diagnosis would be if you'd never heard of it!
Funnily enough I remembered thinking that a molar would be my worst nightmare - to expect a baby and get a tumour. The reality was not so bad and it's been nice to face a fear and see it was just an unknown.
Overall I'd say that whilst there have been moments of sadness the journey has given me opportunities to love deeper. I don't take my loved ones for granted as I know nothing's a given.
I've had the opportunities to experience many of the things I meditate on and welcome impermanence in all it's forms. Our journey is ongoing but I hope maybe it can help people to see that it's not all bad.
We only experience grief if we loved and that is to be celebrated!
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