Story by Kirsty Silverson,
It all starts with those faint two pink lines on a stick, you think it can’t be true so you take another test just to be sure, once again another positive.
I still remember the overwhelming sense of happiness I had when I saw that positive test, sat on my bathroom floor in tears. The happiness started to fade quickly as I realise that this has all happened before, then that’s when it hit me ‘I can’t go through the pain again’.
So let’s go back six months, six months ago when I had that positive test. I still remember telling my partner the words ‘we’re pregnant’ and everything felt like it was falling into place, we started planning our future with another baby, the excitement that flowed through us was just magical. But that’s when it all came crashing down.
When I reached 9 weeks I started to have a feeling that something wasn't right, my symptoms had slowly started fading, you turn to google in the hopes of hearing something positive and that’s when I came across the term ‘missed miscarriage’.
This is when we decided that maybe we should book an early scan just for some reassurance, just imagine seeing that heartbeat and having that sense of security back, that’s what we needed.
Today’s the day, I lay on that bed and lift my top up and we’re told to look at the screen, that was it, the sense of dread, I couldn’t even look up to the screen and what felt like a lifetime of searching on my stomach is when we’re told “I’m so sorry, I can’t find a heartbeat”.
I can’t describe a pain like that moment in time, the look on my partners face, it was just unbearable. At this point we’re told she needs to do a trans vaginal exam just to have a closer look, while I’m lying on the bed with tears pouring from my face all I’m thinking is ‘please just let there be a heartbeat, maybe she missed it the first time’ and that’s when we were told that we had two babies that hadn’t grown past 6 weeks.
I had never felt like more of a failure in my whole life than I did in those few minutes, my babies hadn’t been alive inside of me for almost a month and I had no clue, my partners babies that I had failed to keep safe.
Then comes the next bit, telling family and friends the news, I felt as if I had let everyone down and I had to relive the pain every time I told someone. After a week I became completely numb to it all, I didn’t feel sad, I didn’t really feel anything, I just put on a face and pretended I was fine.
My soul focus was to have the medical management and start trying again, I wanted to be pregnant again so bad, nothing else mattered.
Then the day came, that positive test and that’s when it all hit me, I was terrified. We had the first scan and saw a heartbeat, a strong healthy heartbeat and I suddenly felt relieved.
That’s when it all changed, what had I done? I wanted to be pregnant again so badly that I hadn’t given myself a chance to mourn for my babies, all I had done is try and replace them.
I felt like the worst person, how could I do this?
My poor babies that never got a chance to see the world were officially gone. The days pass and everyone asks “how are you? I bet you’re so excited?”
I lie through my teeth, what sort of person would it make me if I wasn’t excited? I’ve been blessed with another beautiful baby, but it wasn’t my twins. I feel nothing but guilt every day, I feel guilt for my babies that will never be in my arms, but then I feel guilty for this miracle that is growing inside me and I keep thinking about my other babies.
I’m now 22 weeks pregnant and daily I battle between guilt, mourning, happiness. It’s a whirlwind of emotions and nobody could of ever prepared for me to feel this way.
The one thing I’ve learnt from this is to really give yourself a chance to mourn your loss, don’t feel as if your loss is any less insignificant to anyone else’s. They are your babies and they are your world.
I thought I would challenge myself by doing something in their memory. Something I will be able to look back on and have something proper to remember them by. For me and my wife in memory of our two snowdrops Sam and Sarese Larkin.
Willow is our little symbol that anything is possible.
We will never know why we lost our first child, but we will honour him. I will be running, not only for Tommy's but in his memory and in his honour.
One year on, and I am also a different person. I am a Mother who lost her child.
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