In May 2014 after 18 months of trying we found out we were pregnant, 10 days later at 7 weeks I started bleeding and that was it. A scan at EPAU showed that there was no baby, blood tests 48 hours apart showed rapidly dropping HCG levels and I was sent at home to lose my first baby. Three months later my period came, and lasted 4 weeks, a trip to the GP stopped the bleeding and I thought that was that. In those 3 months I gained a lot of weight and basically got told that was a major factor in us not conceiving again.
A year after my first miscarriage I joined my local slimming group, after being a discharged by a gynaecology specialist. I felt positive because I'd lost weight and was still losing.
I got my 2nd positive pregnancy test in February, we were over the moon but scared. Everything seemed to be going well, I'd lost nearly 4 stone and was fitter and healthier than before. Each day was a mini victory, booking in at 10 weeks was a milestone we never thought we'd get to.
Our 12 week scan came round, a little bubble of excitement was there, we were going to see our baby. When the sonographer goes quiet you know there's something wrong, call it instinct, and when she asked when I did a pregnancy test I knew something was really wrong.
The sonographer asked to do an internal scan and I've never cried so much so quickly as when I was locked in the tiny toilet emptying my bladder to get ready.
There was no heartbeat, the baby had stopped developing at around 9 weeks. Having to walk down to the wooden room in EPAU brought back the horrible memories of last time. I sat there, making choices on management of the pregnancy, calling our parents to let them know the sad news it's all a tear-filled blur.
We'd been open about my pregnancy with a lot of friends and family, I'd known that if I miscarried again I'd want the support, I posted on Facebook about being 1 in 4 and so many of my friends messaged me supporting me, sharing that they'd been there. My partner got a lot of support which I think helped him support me. A week later it was ERPC time, I was strangely calm, I'd cried and been angry, hormones still driving my emotions to extremes but the ERPC didn't scare me, it was a clinical way of saying goodbye.
A few weeks later I bought a bracelet and a necklace to remember my babies and I wear them always to have them with me. Unfortunately 5 weeks later as I write this I'm still on my journey, a follow up scan after a long bleed and my GP, using judgement rather than referring me to someone more experienced, means that I have more miles to cross before I get to the end of this.
Seeing that Tommy's were opening a miscarriage research centre when I was going through this is a wonderful thing, sad that it's the only one of its kind, but wonderful that its raising awareness and help, truly helping.
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