4 years ago this week I had my second miscarriage. I practically bled out on my bathroom floor and nearly died. 2014 crashed to an end so badly through of a haze of depression, shock and despair and it took me the longest time to come to terms with it and I still struggle with it occasionally even now to be honest.
I thought starting from the beginning and blogging through it might be a good shout. I sat in the dark and read so many similar blog posts through tears of shared loss and anger I thought it would be helpful to some to tell my tale too.
So here it is;
It started with blood.
Early August 2014 just days after my 30th birthday I woke up and went to loo (as you do!) I was nearly 9 weeks pregnant and I remember being paralysed with shock at the sight of blood on the tissue.
I struggled to breathe, I stood literally gasping and choking on tears that sprang to my eyes. It was nursery run carnage and I didn’t have the time to deal with it so I held everything in and got a pad and carried on.
I got my boys ready for nursery and dropped them off. I pretty much ran home and went straight to the bathroom.
The cramps had hit me on the way back and I knew it was over. I wasn’t pregnant anymore. This wasn’t spotting or implantation bleeding.
It was gone.
Brutal contraction type cramps pushed the life I was supposed to be growing out of my body. It lasted about an hour and I sobbed the loudest and the rawest tears of my life, while the dog sat beside me on the toilet.
I felt broken. Like a part of me had literally been ripped away.
A life that wasn’t to be.
There it was floating on the surface, slowly rotating in a pool of angry red blood. I wish I’d not looked. I wished I’d never seen it but I had to look, I had to see. I had to know for myself it was gone.
I flushed it away, which was hard. It didn’t really matter did it? It was early days. It was nothing more than clump of cells all smashed together covered in bloody snot. It wasn’t a baby, it wasn’t what I been thinking about constantly for the past 5 weeks.
What was I going to do with it? Burying it would be weird and genuinely concerned the pets might have found it.
Flush and it was gone.
I phoned Mark and we had a brief chat about how it wasn’t meant to be and things would be ok. It was early days. We could try again.
We’ve got 2 to be grateful for.
Blah blah blah …
I wished I’d not phoned him, I should have done it in person. I hung up because I couldn’t talk through the tears and googled what to do. I hadn’t had my booking in appointment yet due to lack of midwife availability, I was waiting to be contacted, so I had no one to actually phone. I left a confusing voicemail message with an old number I found in my phone from when I was pregnant with Oren.
No one phoned me back for 2 days. They didn’t even know who I was; they couldn’t find me on their lists. They told me to phone if I had any concerns over unusual bleeding and that was it.
My name scratched off the list.
It was so routine, so common. I was just another 1 in 4.
I googled again. Everything I read was overwhelming. The night before we’d been discussing baby names and now I was crying tears onto my phone.
I was devastated. Miscarriages happened to other people. I’d had two healthy pregnancies and conceived on pretty much the first attempt with them all. What had gone wrong?
Was it my fault?
We’ll never know. That still bothers me to this day. We’ll just never know.
The cold hard facts
Medically my body stopped the pregnancy and chose to spontaneously abort it. It was a natural miscarriage and that was that.
As miscarriages go it was the best kind to have apparently (said the blunt wifey on the phone). It was a lot like a heavy period and no medical interventions were required. I went through it in the privacy of my own home. Didn’t bother anyone else with it and I didn’t cost the NHS anything. Win win.
We hadn’t really told many people as it was still early days but it was hard letting them know it was over. I did it by text and it wasn’t really spoken of again. It hung in the background for weeks though, this unspeakable thing no one wanted to discuss.
On the occasions it was spoken about we got a lot of;
It wasn’t meant to be, it was probably for the best, maybe you can’t carry girls…
None of which were particularly helpful at all!
Publicly I carried on as normal but at home it was a struggle. It’s ok to not be ok but there wasn’t really anything I or Mark or anyone could do. I just needed time.
My next period…
It wasn’t until I came on the next month and experienced a fairly horrific “clear out” period, that I really came to terms with it. I wasn’t delusional or anything, I knew I wasn’t pregnant but to bleed again was the smack in the face I needed. My body had reset itself and was ready to start the cycle again and so it turned out, was I.
At age 4 and 2, they were too young to understand. Neither of them knew we were pregnant and only Edward noticed I was sad for a few days and gave me extra cuddles but that was it. It could have been much worse for them if we’d needed to explained it all so I was quite relieved.
For future reference
I went through my first miscarriage alone, terrified and in tears in my bathroom but you don’t have to. Find someone, phone someone, anyone. No woman should go through that alone. I wish more than ever I had phoned someone even just to listen to me cry until it was over.
The NHS are there for you
I’ve pulled this information from the NHS website for anyone that might need it;
The Miscarriage Association is a charity that offers support to people who have lost a baby. They have a helpline 01924 200 799, Monday to Friday, 9am to 4pm and an email address email@example.com which can put you in touch with a support volunteer.
I can highly recommend finding a good group on social media to root about in or even open up in. The Babipur Hangout on Facebook is a wonderful safe space – that group has got me through some of my lowest moments.
The Eventual Mother was a blog I stumbled across whilst drinking through tears one night. Siobhan’s honesty and candour was something that I needed to read. What happened happened and it is not and should never be taboo. Her blog is inspirational.
1 in 4
“When it rains look for rainbows”