I’m not in good shape today. I’ve been doing so well, and I actually thought I was fine and then randomly out of nowhere the tears started and now they won’t stop.
I had a dream last night that woke me. I was in a hospital bed, unable to move, surrounded by scared children who I had to protect from some sinister figure lurking on the ward. I was meant to keep them safe but I couldn’t stop them from running off into danger, I couldn’t stop them from being snatched away. I was completely powerless. I suppose if that’s where my mind is right now it’s no wonder I’m having such a hard day today. I know it’ll pass, I know it’ll get easier. I know it’s just a bad day. I also know I have to live through the bad days to get to the good days, but that doesn’t make any of this any easier.
It was confirmed this morning. The positives to take from this morning’s appointment were that no intervention was needed. My body has very efficiently done what it should. Not that it feels all that positive.
It was also a very different experience to the last time. A different hospital this time, and frankly, a much better one. We were treated with care, kindness and compassion which makes such a difference. The lady we spoke to after the scan gave us lots of good advice, lots of reassurance that despite having another miscarriage there’s no additional risk that it could happen again, and the fact that in between the two losses we had Arthur is reassuring in itself. The scan also showed that everything looks healthy and normal so as shitty as it is, this miscarriage was just one of those things.
I’ve been holding it together pretty well all week (or maybe just bottling it up, who knows) but I really feel it today. I’m sad. I’m angry. I want my baby.
Life’s not very fair sometimes.
7 weeks pregnant tomorrow, but not. I’ve been bleeding since Sunday. Mother’s Day. And my Birthday. Talk about Mother Nature being cruel.
More cruel yet is that I’m still suffering with morning sickness and dizziness. I still feel pregnant.
It doesn’t feel like last time. I don’t have that empty feeling this time, I don’t have the physical pain I had last time. It’s confusing and giving me what is likely to be false hope. I’m not a crying mess, I’m not consumed by the pain of it all. I don’t really feel anything but confused.
For now we play the waiting game until my scan appointment Friday morning. I only hope that it’s straight forward and unambiguous. I just want it done now. Gone.
Yesterday marked one year since that horrible 12 week scan and what was to be the start of the worst week of my life. I try not to dwell on it, as dwelling does no good, so I spent the day doing normal everyday stuff. I went to the dentist, met some friends for coffee and had my hair done. And it was ok.
I’d be lying if I said my mind didn’t wander, but I needed to be busy and wanted not to dwell on things that can’t be changed. I think I succeeded in that.
So, a year on and a lot has changed. The miscarriage association are still plugging away doing a terrific job of helping and supporting those who suffer a loss, and I had the pleasure of an email from lovely Ruth (to use her full name) a couple of weeks ago updating me on the latest with the educational videos I talked about in a blog post months ago. The videos have been made and are being rolled out to GP’s, Ultrasound technicians and anyone else likely to come in to contact with a woman suffering a miscarriage, any time now. I’m really glad I was able to offer some insight for this project and so pleased that it’s come to fruition. I sincerely hope it has the effect we all hope it will.
On a personal level, although my loss still at times feels very recent and very raw it was in actual fact a whole year ago now. In that year I’ve got a new house, new job, got engaged, and of course welcomed little Arthur in to the world safe and well. I’m thankful and very lucky to have all that I have, I know that, and I try very hard not to take any of it for granted. Do I still wonder what that baby would have looked like? Of course. Do I still long for him or her? Absolutely. But then I remind myself that I wouldn’t have had Arthur, and he is pretty awesome so I choose to focus on that on the tough days.
Although this is a morbid anniversary, I felt I needed to mark it somehow. Just let the universe know that I haven’t forgotten. Will never forget. Here seems as good a place as any to do that since here is where my recovery began really. Here is where I found unending support and understanding, here I found friends accross the world. We dragged each other through those awful times, and celebrated together through the happy times. Let’s hope there are more happy times to come for all of us.
March 22nd is the day I was meant to have my baby. The date that’s been constantly at the back of my mind since last September, the one I’ve dreaded the most.
If I’m honest, I thought being pregnant again would make it easier somehow but I think that was wishful thinking. It’s a couple of days away and I can already feel the emotions bubbling up to the surface so I’m really glad I had the foresight to book a couple of days off work Monday and Tuesday. I guess it’s different for everyone, and on the one hand I did think maybe being in work would be a good distraction, but deep down it just feels wrong to be getting on with life when I know that’s the day my life should have been changing forever.
I don’t want to focus on how sad and how hard Tuesday is going to be for me – that’s a given, but at the same time I don’t want to brush it under the carpet and pretend it’s just another day. I kind of feel like I should be doing something to mark it. I just don’t know what.
So I’ll be at home able to feel whatever I need to feel and grieve however I need to grieve without prying eyes or well meaning friends and colleagues trying to help but not knowing how. I decided that removing myself from that potentially painful situation was probably wise because people don’t understand. With all the best will in the world, unless you’ve gone through it yourself (and I hope you never do) you simply can’t understand. I know all it would take is for one person to say “at least you’re pregnant now though” in that helpful, cheery tone to make my head explode and me to say something I regret to someone who was no doubt just trying to help.
So that’s where I’m at this morning. Headed off to my first NCT class to talk about all things babies when actually I’m pretty preoccupied with the baby that will never be. The one that nobody will talk about. Of course that then makes me feel guilty for (for want of a better word) “prioritising” my lost baby over my living one today.
This whole process of pregnancy and miscarriage and pregnancy post miscarriage is a whirlpool of conflicting emotions – guilt, anxiety and stress. I know in the long run it’ll be so worth it, and I know from my own experience that time really does heal, but I also know that this pain will likely never leave me. I’m not sure I want it to either. After all, it’s all I have left.
As hard as Tuesday will be, once it’s gone, it’s gone. I feel as though it’s the final stage of the grieving process. The last landmark date that I have to deal with. I’ve found a place for my grief and whilst it will always be with me, it’s manageable. I just have to get through Tuesday and then put that grief back in its box.
There’s a very good reason that my best friend, Dee, is my best friend.
Today is a weird day for me. I’m so lucky to be having a healthy little boy, and so happy to know that I’m a mum…but I’m also sad. Sad that my first little one will never call me mammy. Today is a day that forces me to think about my loss, probably made all the worse for knowing that my due date would’ve been just a couple of weeks away. I’m sure Paul would’ve been making a fuss of me today, excitedly looking forward to welcoming our baby any day now, and that’s hard to contemplate.
Honestly, I’m in a weird emotional state at the moment and I’ve been trying not to dwell on what might’ve been, trying not to be silly or ungrateful for what I have now.
I didn’t really think anyone else would think about it. I don’t mean that in a horrible way, it’s not that I think people don’t care or anything, it’s just that people’s memories are short, their lives are busy, and unless they’ve experienced that same loss they just don’t understand. And then Dee text me to say that she’s thinking of me and my first little one today. It touched me more than I can say. Yes I had a cry, but to know that my baby is remembered by others too is a really lovely, comforting thing. That message also allowed me to feel what I’ve been trying to avoid feeling. By having someone else acknowledge my grief, it feels ok to have a cry. It feels ok to not be strong today. For that, and so much more I thank my oldest friend.
I guess today is going to be hard, and I have to accept that and try to look for the positives. At the same time, I wanted to honour our loss too.
I’m thinking of you all today, all you special women who’ve helped and supported me through what was the hardest time of my life. Today is a tough one, but we’re strong. We’ll get there.
It’s been a while eh? I’ve been AWOL lately for a couple of reasons. One is that honestly, there really hasn’t been much to say pregnancy wise. I think everything is ok, and aside from the usual anxiety I’m feeling pretty good. Still suffering with nausea and sickness (which I’m thankful for as I hope it means everything is ok) and still tired a lot, but otherwise no spotting or cramps, no backache…I’m feeling fairly positive. We have our dating scan a week today and as it draws nearer I am feeling more and more anxious. I keep reminding myself that we saw a very wiggly baby and a strong little heartbeat at 9 weeks and since then I haven’t had any sinister symptoms so everything is probably OK, but I can’t help but worry.
We told our parents over Christmas. Paul’s mum got a bit tearful, both my parents looked shocked and confused and then excited and now just anxious. That makes me really sad. I totally understand why they feel the way they feel, hell we’ve felt it for 11 and a half weeks now. I get it. Nonetheless, I’m sad that my parents can’t just be excited and happy at the prospect of their first grandchild being born. As heartbreaking and awful as a miscarriage is at the time, it’s impacts are ongoing and far reaching. I suspect this pregnancy will always be tinged with a little sadness and worry until little one is here safe and live and healthy.
So, other than pregnancy woes, we’re moving house in a couple of weeks so we’re in the process of packing up our flat and getting ourselves organised ready for the big move. Needless to say, it’s a stressful time but I’m determined to stay as relaxed as possible. I’m taking absolutely no chances with my health or my baby’s health.
We had a really lovely if a little strange Christmas. Strange because my lovely Nan was taken in to hospital with pneumonia and although she was out after a week on the 23rd, she isn’t really herself again yet. She’s weak and tired and apparently that can take up to 8 weeks to subside. So there’s been a lot of back and forth and worrying about her whilst trying to make the best of our Christmas and make hers as good as we could. Paul and I stayed at my parents house for a few days where my mum spoiled us, fed us and generally looked after us. I have to say, it was kind of like being a kid again having my mum run around doing everything for me…and it was bliss! It meant we got to have a real break because I wasn’t constantly thinking “I should be packing that, or washing this, or cleaning that” and the break definitely did us some good ahead of a busy few weeks. My parents made this Christmas much easier on us, and for that I’m so so thankful because I dreaded Christmas after the miscarriage. The thought that I should be six months pregnant and have a lovely big bump was something that I knew would get harder and harder. I didn’t really want to be around all the usual crowds of people, and I really didn’t feel much like celebrating. In the end, it wasn’t as bad as I expected. I did avoid crowds, and I did have a quieter Christmas than usual because it’s still really hard, and even being pregnant again doesn’t take away the pain. It helps I think, but it doesn’t ever go away. If I allowed myself, I could still sit and sob for that first baby.
I don’t know when we’ll start telling people the news, and I don’t know when I’ll post these blogs I’ve been writing for months either. I still feel like saying it out loud and having people know is just tempting fate. Silly superstitions, but honestly everything makes me panicky this time so I’m going to go with my gut. It’s never steered me wrong before so when I feel strong enough to share my news I will.