I’m not sure if I will post this. It’s a little more personal than I normally get on my blog, which seems an odd thing to say given that all my crazy musings are otherwise here for all to see. I feel I want to say something though and so maybe you’ll see this and maybe you won’t. Either way, it’s out.
I should warn you that it contains graphic medical content.
Yesterday, I had a miscarriage. Today this process is ongoing; three days ago it all started; it may all be over tomorrow. Who knows. I’ve never done this before; I never want to do it again.
I was almost 8 weeks pregnant when I started to spot bleed on Tuesday. The early pregnancy assessment centre tried to reassure me over the phone and tell me it was probably just implantation bleeding. I had experienced this with my first pregnancy (now 19 month old child) and so tried to remain calm until my allotted appointment the following day.
Twenty four hours later we went up to the hospital and two kindly midwives gave me both an external and an internal ultrasound scan.
We were delighted to see our tiny “baby” on the screen and to be told it’s wee heart was beating away as it should be was a huge relief.
The measurements were tiny, measuring around six weeks they thought – had we got our dates wrong?
We didn’t think so.
Due to the date discrepancy, we were advised to come back for another early scan in two weeks time and our 12 week scan was hastily pushed waaay back from December into January.
“…but this can be all cancelled if necessary.”
Those final words. Did the midwife know?
Off home we trotted with reassurance on the original bleeding issue, a scan picture of a dot and a brand new red flag to wave constantly for two whole weeks.
Home we got. I just knew things weren’t right. Maternal instinct is an amazing, scary thing. My husband tried to reassure me but I knew he knew I knew. I continued to bleed. Heavier now, but in hindsight not too bad at that point.
Yesterday, I arrived home from work to find bright red blood all down my legs and large clots in my underwear. I was also experiencing strong contractions.
Textbook. There was no shadow of a doubt what was happening to us now. I was surprised how obvious the symptoms were for two months gestation.
I flushed it all away like a dead goldfish. There was nothing I could do. Nothing anyone could say. The early pregnancy assessment centre will see me in a week to check the matter has all “come away.” My file will then be closed. Scans cancelled. Plans shelved.
In hindsight, the pregnancy hadn’t felt real. A pleasant surprise, followed by eight happy symptomless weeks spent getting excited. Both of us are obviously gutted by this development, but in many ways perhaps it is nature’s way of telling us something wasn’t right and perhaps it was better not to limp along to a later stage of pregnancy, or worse. It still hurts though. Badly.
The little things like allowing ourselves to discuss names, imagine two wee ones aged four and two playing together.
We have become one of the 20% of all pregnancies that end in miscarriage before 12 weeks.
Now we’re back to square one. Today I feel empty, physically and metaphorically. But we’ll be fine. We are a strong and loved little unit of three.
I guess we’ll see what next week brings.
Googling (the worst thing to do I know), there seems to be some women in chat rooms saying that they had all my symptoms but it turned out ok.
So now I have a week to pray for a miracle like theirs.
I mustn’t get my hopes up.
I’m still bleeding.
They say every blog post should have a “so what” moment.
I’m so sorry to disappoint. This is just a story in time about my tiny white rose bud that never got the chance to flower.
I wrote this post in a state of raw grief on 27th November 2014. I wanted to publish it today in memory as 26th June 2015 was to be my due date. I’m pleased to say that we have good news on the horizon with another healthy pregnancy well underway and soon to enter its third trimester. I hope that in sharing my story, others going through the same will know that they are not alone.
Having not publicly disclosed my miscarriage, but wanting to express how I felt emotionally by Christmas time (post event), I also wrote this post in December: Calm down deer documenting my mental processing of stuff.
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