The Lonely Pain of Miscarriage

While this is still such a raw subject, I write it for my own sanity and hopefully someone else out there who has gone through the same unfortunate circumstances can be helped by this, or maybe even help me. I decided when I brought this blog back that it would be about me, not just one aspect of my life but generally about all of it, even the bad stuff. My apologies if this post is upsetting for some and they do not wish to read it, but please be respectful. I feel like being able to tell my story of loss may give me some kind of release that crying isn't quite doing for me.

I never expected that I would ever have to go through this, same as many other women. The internet is littered with numbers and statistics that offer very little comfort when it comes to your personal experience. I'm sure most people are well aware that nothing in the world will ever prepare you for the loss of a child, and nothing can really give you comfort no matter how much you try to rationalise it; ultimately it's just not fair and it's okay to feel that way.

My pregnancy was planned, and we were one of those lucky people that managed to get pregnant our first try as it were. In life I have always been on the more boring side of the medical world (thank goodness) so it only seemed natural that we would probably have a very boring pregnancy which is what all pregnant ladies want. No drama, no surprises. I had a few Mum friends I could talk to and confide in, and it was nice to know that all of my aches and pains were normal. I was not expecting to feel like I was having a mild period for weeks on end, but my uterus clearly had some growing to do.

I found out I was pregnant at the very end of October, I was a few days late for my period (despite that impending doom feeling in my gut) and decided to break out the digital test first thing in the morning whilst busting for a wee. It came up reading that I was 2-3 weeks pregnant and I called my partner who was over the moon, it was probably the best feeling in the whole world and as far as he was concerned I was made of glass from that point onward.

With the weird pains soon sets in the panic as to whether your precious bundle of cells has made it out of the fallopian tube and whether they've managed to attach themselves properly. Pretty routine, however reminding myself that nothing ever happens to me that's out of the ordinary managed to calm me down. My blood pressure went through the roof when I started spotting one evening in November, despite knowing deep down that it was most likely going to be implantation bleeding, you can't help the blind panic that takes over.

We went to the hospital in the early hours, both drained and feeling uneasy. I had my blood pressure taken and provided a pee sample (my favourite hobby) and the doctor checked the HCG levels and for any signs of infection. The doctor was fantastic in his reassurance and booked us in at the Early Pregnancy Unit for an ultrasound in a few days time to check that everything was okay. Those days of waiting were painful, but I finally got to see my tiny baby and it's crazy little heartbeat and I was instantly relieved.

Our little pea measured up to be around 6 weeks and 5 days old at this point, they were so tiny but had already developed a tiny heart which was beating away in there. I can't ever say that the experience would have been less painful had I not already seen the baby alive, because this one experience is all that I have. I'm glad we have that image to cherish, as it proves to more than just us that there was life there.

It was exactly two weeks later that we lost the baby.

I began spotting again on the 2nd of December, which had developed into a fresh bleed the next day while I was at work. The spotting did not panic me this time, however the sight of fresh red blood made me go into meltdown, there wasn't one person I didn't call for help and advice. I booked to see my GP that evening and had gone home to rest as instructed. I had the same tests done again, and we were told that if I was going to miscarry then there was nothing that could be done unfortunately. I was to monitor my bleeding and if it did not improve or got any worse then I was to go to A&E.

By the 6th, the bleeding had not stopped and was starting to have clots. I was home alone, in pain and in a panic. I called the non-emergency NHS line and they advised me to go straight to A&E, where I was seen by a wonderful triage nurse. She told me that it makes her so sad when it came to pregnant women in their first trimester, especially when you are a first time Mum. Nothing is ever explained to you, it's the time where most women will miscarry and yet no one wants to really be responsible for you. It will always stick with me what she said, as it gave me great comfort knowing that it wasn't just me feeling like I was lost as to who I could talk to, especially when my own midwife didn't contact me when I was told she would.

We couldn't get into the EPU any sooner than Saturday, so we were sent down to Surgical Consultation where we waited to be seen. After a few hours I was once again having my blood pressure checked as well as my blood sugar which had hit a real low, the nurses asking if I was diabetic. Considering that my friends consider me to have the sugar addiction of Buddy the Elf, it wasn't out of the realms of possibility, but I just needed some lunch more than anything. After nearly puking up some glucose gel we waited some more for the doctor to see me.

Anyone who has ever been pregnant knows that your dignity goes out the window, and after already having been through a smear, getting my bits out does not bother me. I was examined internally and the doctor informed me that my cervix was closed, which gave me relief to know. She said there wasn't a lot of blood, which gave me more relief until I saw that it had managed to stain the uniform of the nurse, doctor and even my jumper. The pad placed under my bum didn't look much better in all honesty.

The scan department was closed at this time, so we were offered an overnight stay which we both declined. I felt a little better about the situation after the exam and we were both more than happy to return in the morning for the scan. My blood was taken for tests and off home we went.

Around an hour after we got back I had a shower, grimly watching more clots come out of me. I was sat down eating my tea before I was hit by the most excruciating pain I have ever experienced in my whole life, it was like I was dying. Every moment I was not in pain was like pure ecstasy, and I was terrified to move myself from the couch for fear of waking the beast within for further torture.

At 11pm I went to use the loo before bed, and I will never forget what I saw.

Laying neatly in my pad was my baby, still nested in their little sac. They looked perfect to the image I had on every tracker I had been following, but at the same time I never thought it would be like this. My partner says that he will never forget the sound I made that had him running to the bathroom, and I can't imagine the shock of what he saw. I was hysterical, cradling my lost baby in my hands not knowing what I was supposed to do with them.

I don't know how I managed to get any sleep that night, I sobbed uncontrollably for hours. At one point I was back in the bathroom, sat on the floor babbling incoherently at the small pile of tissues we had nestled our baby in. I am very much a pro-choice person, however it depends on how you feel about having kids when you become pregnant. If you're not ready or do not want children, they are a bundle of cells. If you do want kids, that is your baby and you love them from the moment you see those two blue lines appear.

We attended our scan the next morning, more tears in waiting rooms and even more when the lady conducting the scan confirmed that there was nothing. I felt empty, every time I had to speak to someone about it, it was like the air had been pulled out of my lungs and I couldn't breathe. The doctor confirmed that my blood results were normal, and that the loss was most likely because the fetus was not viable. A double edged sword of comfort, as someone who needs an answer for everything I still managed to chew my brain as to the things I had done or not done.

When we got home my partner buried Pea in the garden with the roses, placing half a skimming stone from his final walk with his childhood dog in there with them. I stared out of that window for so long, feeling awful that my baby was out in the cold ground. Awful thoughts haunted me, my own grief wasn't enough to feel alone.

It took around 6 days for the bleeding to stop completely, my hormones were in a tailspin. I still had the symptoms of pregnancy that I'd felt before, only without the feeling in my womb. That was probably one of the worst parts about the recovery. I was already planning the next pregnancy, convincing myself that I'd be back to my good old pregnant self in no time at all. I felt like I couldn't be happy again until I was pregnant. I've managed to control myself more since, realising how manic I was to feel better as soon as possible I was doing myself more harm by not letting myself just feel the pain. Pangs of guilt in my chest were not to be ignored until even they got out of control.

Now 4 weeks later I've had my first period, and I know I need to keep moving forward.

I've learnt that I shouldn't feel guilty about wanting to try again, even if the experience will be scary and uncertain. As my friend pointed out; if you already had a child and then wanted a second, it wouldn't be to forget the first one. I will never forget Pea and the joy they brought me and my partner and to try again when we're both ready.

Another lesson to take away is that not everything is as cookie cutter as I would like to believe. Despite my bleeding and clotting I did not manage to soak through a pad every hour, one of the key questions asked to me every time I saw a medical professional. This made me feel like I was being an inconvenience and not really going through what was happening to my body. It created so much doubt. I now know what I'm looking for in terms of bad signs at the very least.

If you're reading this because someone you know has experienced a loss, my advice is this; don't try to silver line their problem and don't ever tell them you know how they feel. This type of grief is a unique experience for all, if that person wants to know your experience then they will ask you. Sometimes all a person needs is for you to just be there for them, make sure they're eating and drinking even if they don't want to. Also don't ever vanish away because you feel awkward about the situation, sometimes a simple message to let them know you're thinking of them and are there if they need anything. They're not going to seek advice from someone with no experience, they just want to know someone is hearing their pain. Be present.