Story by Rebecca,
I was 17 when I fell pregnant. Labour started at 22 weeks 3 days. I have never felt so helpless or afraid.
The drugs given to help made me really sick and the ward was busy so for the most part I was completely alone. I was physically and mentally exhausted, scared and I ended up in theatre for delivery. In just a few more days she would have been ‘viable’ and they would have tried to save her.
She was taken away so I could have a GA to sort retained placenta. I woke up feeling like it was all a bad dream.
I was alone, scared and overwhelmed. A very sweet young midwife sat with me until her shift ended that morning. After that I seemed to be forgotten about. What I would have given for someone to hold me at that point and tell me everything was going to be OK.
Having held it together, I sat in the shower and cried like I had never cried before. I decided not to have a post-mortem or a private funeral. I'm still pretty ashamed I didn't go to the service and haven't been to the memorial garden. Maybe one day I will find the courage.
I left the hospital and drove to the coast, crying until I had no tears left to cry. A couple of times since, that same consuming grief has hit me again- never with any reason or warning.
I remember the shock when my milk came in, and then seemed to take forever to dry up but other than that I remember very little of the weeks that followed.
I spent years in total denial and very detached- virtually unaffected except for awful nightmares and an underlying anxiety I couldn’t really explain. It still feels surreal most of the time, yet my heart aches for her, and there isn't a day that goes by I don't think about her and what could have been.
I'm a pretty private person and a bit of a control freak so I found it very hard to deal with the fear and anxiety when pregnant again, almost 10 years later.
I felt totally out of control and lived in varying states of panic- at times I felt like I was drowning.
I struggled to even acknowledge I was pregnant because of the fear of losing her too. Instead of dealing with what was going on in my head or admit I was struggling I cut off friends, deleted myself from social media and avoided all conversations about being pregnant.
Even in labour I didn’t really allow myself to believe everything would be OK.
As it goes, everything was more than okay, and I’ve been so blessed with the most amazing daughter.
I feel like I’ve overcome a lot in this last week, there’s definitely more good days than bad, but I still miss what could’ve been.
I am very confused, no one has said blighted ovum and no one has told me anything about my miscarriage.
All tests indicated Claire was healthy, and her egg count numbers were high enough for us to embark on the egg sharing programme
I’m trying to be okay, but I’m also going to allow myself to hurt and grieve as lost as my body needs.
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