It’s taken me a while to decide whether to write this post or not. It’s so very personal but is one that I feel like I have to write, my fingers are burning with the words waiting to come out. I’m struggling to write anything else as it’s all I can think about and in writing this I hope I can bring some closure for myself and maybe reach out to others who have been in the same situation. I should be past the 12 weeks pregnant mark now, having our first scan, full of excitement, dreams and wishes for the future of our unborn child. Instead I’m empty, numb and alone, there is no baby growing inside of me anymore. My body failed it, I failed it.
When we found out I was pregnant it was a shock as we were using contraception. Initially full of fear, how were we going to cope with another child when some days it was already all too much. A little part of me inside knew it would be ok, the child would be loved, we would make it work. As each day passed I began to think about the new life growing, what would it be like? My hand gently brushing against my stomach, smiling at the thought of feeling the first flutters of movement again. A little secret I was carrying around keeping me company. However, I knew something wasn’t right. The sickness that had been the telltale sign even before the first test began to dwindle and I was having pain on one side, intermittent stabbing pains that would take my breath away.
When the bleeding started I was half expecting it, although it was still a shock. I held on to the hope that everything might still be alright. Stuck at School on a training day unable to even say the words out loud I waited till the training finished before driving to the doctors, the pain getting worse with each passing minute. On seeing him he confirmed my worst fears that I was likely having a miscarriage and symptons were highly likely of being an ectopic pregnancy. Waiting for James to pick me up to take me to hospital I tried not to cry in the reception, tears burning my eyes and silently rolling down my cheeks made the receptionist bring me some tissues with a sad smile. When James arrived the feeling of relief I had at seeing him was immense, I knew I could get through whatever was going to happen with him by my side.
At the hospital after cannulas being fitted, much poking and proding they decided on a wait and see approach, with an open instant access back and instructions to hurry back if the pain became unbearable. With the words muttered, possible ectopic miscarriage. We went home worried to await and see what would happen. That night I hardly slept, waiting and hoping everything would still be ok. Over the next couple of days things progressed for the worse, the pain was like labour and by the Monday I knew I was no longer pregnant. Weak and shaky, with legs like jelly we went back to the hospital for a blood test to confirm a drop in hormone levels. Feeling like I was going to pass out I clung to James unable to stand on my own.
The bloods confirmed a drop in hormones now so low that nothing would be able to be seen on a scan. That was how I was left. No words of wisdom, no words of hope, no words of reassurance just that’s it, the end, I had suffered a likely ectopic miscarriage, so matter of fact.
It’s been weeks and months since it happened and I still feel numb. The occasional newborn baby on the TV or a bump picture making my eyes well up with tears I’m unable to shed. The pangs of guilt I get in quiet moments, when I’m driving or having a shower, the reminder that I’ve just carried on with life when one was lost. Very few people know and so friends can’t understand why I haven’t maybe been myself recently, the words too hard to say to them, with no idea of even how to start the conversation. In my darkest moments I blame myself, my body, the initial fears that I first had for causing this.
I know I’m incredibly lucky to have my three beautiful children, my babies. I hold them even tighter for a little bit longer, kiss them on their head breathing in the scent of their hair, holding their hands in mine and watching them sleep. Cherishing these ordinary moments because life is so precious.