When 3 + 1 doesn’t equal 4

 

“For all the babies born sleeping,

Those we carried but never held.

Those we held but never took home,

And, those that came but could not stay.”

The day I found out I was pregnant, for a second time, was not straightforward. I had been feeling strange, dizzy and nauseous; my period wasn’t due so I brushed the thought out of my head…
I couldn’t be pregnant,
We weren’t even trying,
And, it’s not meant to be that easy.

I booked an appointment, with my Doctor, the next day for an explanation and then convinced myself taking a pregnancy test would be a precaution.
I took four.
They were all positive.

The first thing I did was ring my husband… he didn’t answer. So, I rang my closest friend, in a panic, screaming down the phone, “I am pregnant!” I told myself, over and over, not to get excited, not to make plans. However, being the control freak I am, I was already Googling double-pram reviews.

It was that night I started spotting, only slightly but I was worried, I was really worried; call it intuition, I knew something wasn’t right.

The following day the blood test came back positive; I was six week pregnant based on my hormone levels. I booked in for a scan straight away, I was still spotting but it wasn’t red blood and Dr Google told me that this could be okay.

Enter my second internal ultrasound… oh the joys of this wonderful experience! I didn’t know this ultrasound tech, as my regular vagina invader was on annual leave, he was cold and blunt. When he showed my uterus on the screen he simply stated; “There is nothing there, no heartbeat. If you haven’t started miscarrying, you will.”

And that was it; I was sent on my way and told to wait.
To wait for this unborn child, with no heartbeat, to pass.

And wait I did.
It never came and a silly voice in my head told me that he was wrong, that maybe it was simply too early and that a heartbeat would come…

I picked myself up and decided attending a friend’s Hens Day would be totally fine because I was still pregnant and that gave me enormous resolve.

I started bleeding about ten minutes into the celebrations; it was extremely painful and very similar to my after labour pains. I locked myself in the restaurant toilet and sat there while everything I had hoped for drained away. About an hour later, I managed to sneak out and jump in a cab to go home.

I went numb, no sadness, no tears just blackness.

Thinking about it now, I really needed to express what I was feeling, I needed to talk about it and I needed to acknowledge the loss.

Friends and family would say things like:
“At least you have Hutch.”
“At least it was early.”
“It shows you can get pregnant naturally” (this has also proven to be an incorrect statement, I am still infertile).
All those statements were said in love and meant to make me feel better…

But really all I wanted someone to say was “I am sorry for your loss” to acknowledge that no matter what, no matter how far along I was, that I was grieving the loss of a child, of a pregnancy and of a life that could have been.

To those people who don’t know what to say, it is not your fault as no one talks about miscarriage, pregnancies are still not announced until ‘safe’ and it doesn’t help, anyone. This just means that so many people suffer in silence; they keep this dark secret and never truly grieve their loss.

So to all those women, who have experienced what I have, I am so very sorry for your loss. I send you all my strength and love.

And, to that little bean we saw on that ultrasound, we love you, we loved you and we are so very sorry we never go to you show you that, as it was all over before it really begun.

M2M

XOX