I try to keep sad or negative things off this blog, I want this to be a place for people to come and find the things that will bring them pleasure, be it a new toy for their child, or a beautiful dress for themselves. Sadly, life isn’t alway filled with happiness or beauty, sometimes it’s sad. Really sad.
I wanted to share this for all of the women who have had an early pregnancy miscarriage, I know there are thousands of you out there, I’ve smiled sympathetically at you in the past, I’ve offered you words of solace. I’ve also never really known what you are going through. I’ve been the girl who has had two perfectly healthy, happy pregnancies with two perfect little boys as end results. I’ll admit I’ve never been cavalier enough to tell a pregnant woman that their miscarriage was irrelevant because they weren’t really carrying a baby, but the beginnings of one, but I’ve had friends who’ve expressed that opinion to me and I’ve never really thought much to it.
Last week I announced to everyone that I was pregnant, 6 weeks pregnant to be exact. I was so happy and filled with excitement to be taking this wonderful journey again, I kept checking all of the pregnancy books in stores, falling more in love with the little being that was growing inside me each day, even if it did look like a tadpole or science experiment. I’ve shared pictures of what size my baby is, my little lentil and then my little blueberry, and at the beginning of this week, two days ago, I began to feel the little flutters that you usually feel around 17 weeks in your first pregnancy, although with third (or more) pregnancies you can feel right from 6/7 weeks when babies heart starts to beat.
A few days ago came the bleeding. Only light at first, I thought it was the normal pink discharge that you get when baby is ‘bedding’ in – that’s what the midwife told me anyway, ‘ Don’t worry, don’t panic. It’s all normal, baby is settling in and you are fine. If you have any period style bleeding, go straight to A & E.’ Of course when the afternoon came, I realised I was bleeding heavier and rushed through to A & E, where I was given a scan appointment at the EPADs (Early Pregnancy Assesment Day) clinic the following morning. I went to bed with cramps and heavier bleeding, all the while telling myself if I ignored the symptoms then they weren’t really there. Every time I told my husband I was pretty sure I was having a miscarriage he would stop me and say, ‘ You aren’t a doctor, let’s wait and see’. I think that not knowing makes it worse – I’ve often been told that hope is the most dangerous emotion in the emotional spectrum, because without hope we can grieve and move on but with that little bit of hope we have something to cling to and it puts us in an emotional limbo. As of right now, I’m not a big fan of hope – it can keep it’s false promises and it’s misleading attitude.
So the following morning came the blood clots and passing of what I believe to be the little life that had been growing inside me, snuffed out. Again, let’s wait, let’s hope.
The doctors at the EPADs clinic were ever so kind, talking me through everything that was happening and all that they were going to do to find out what was going on with my pregnancy, my little blueberry. The scan was inconclusive, there was no foetus in the pregnancy sack and I know I could feel something that isn’t there now. The urine sample was positive. The blood test was positive. Everything pointing to an early pregnancy miscarriage in the process but without any hard evidence, we remain inconclusive. There’s that hope again.
I know in my heart I’ve had a miscarriage. I feel empty and alone. I’m so sad, there really is no other word for it, I’m just so sad. I had just started to wrap my head around the pregnancy and I was so excited. There have been no signs of trouble, no illness, no pain and then everything went wrong. I feel like my body is betraying me, like it is an enemy that I am stuck with but can’t fight off. A silent, secret enemy that I have placed all my trust in and is now callously ignoring my pleas to just help me out and hold on and protect my little blueberry that I have fallen so in love with already. My head hurts and my heart feels tight and achy.
I know that it is better to miscarry now than further along, I also know (on a logical level) that this is probably natures way of telling me there was something wrong with this little blueberry and that it is all for the best. I don’t care. I don’t care. All I can think is why me? This kind of thing shouldn’t happen to me, I’ve had two perfectly healthy pregnancies and I’ve never miscarried. Realistically though, why not me? I’m no different to those other thousands of women I’ve offered my words of solace to or smiled at sympathetically.
So ladies, smile on back, I’m right there with you this time.