This post was supposed to be one of excitement, it was one that I couldn’t wait to write, to share with you all.
One that I had dreamed of for many years, the dream of announcing my second pregnancy. A sibling for Leo, a much wanted second baby.
Over the years though, it just hadn’t happened and I could accept that. I knew... or I thought that if I ever did conceive again... that would be the hard part and 9 months later I would welcome our baby into the world.
Today though, instead of sharing happy news with my little corner of the web, I am announcing the loss of my pregnancy, the loss of our second child.
Our much wanted second child, Leo’s longed for sibling.
Today I am announcing our miscarriage.
Over the past few months I have been writing secret posts, posts that when I read back scream of the excitement and love that I shared in being pregnant and adding a new member to our family.
They make for hard reading now, that smile on my face, the love that already coursed through my veins.
After the worst happened (I’ll be sharing the whole story), I decided I wasn’t going to post my pregnancy posts, but then I thought ‘woah now that’s just wrong!’, this pregnancy did happen.
When I look back at those very first posts, the big smile on my face, the look on Luke’s face when he realised we were pregnant again, it has a bittersweet feeling. I was so obliviously happy, so excited for this next chapter of our lives, and I didn’t think for one second that our pregnancy would result in a missed miscarriage.
This baby was a part of me for all the time that he or she was tucked away in my tummy, and this little baby that was destined not to be is still a part of us today.
It is a fact that 1 in 4 pregnancies result in a miscarriage, and now I am part of a club that I never wanted to join. A club that I naively thought I never would join, because miscarriages happen to ‘other’ people, they don’t happen to me.
Boy was I wrong.
1 in 4 pregnancies result in miscarriage.
This baby is a part of our story, even if that story does not have a happy ending.
With that in mind, I’m still going to share my little story with you. The story with a less than happy ending, but a story that happened to me nonetheless.
A story that happens to 1 in 4 people who get a positive pregnancy test.
A story that people don’t like to talk about, but a story that needs telling even if people try to shine away from it.
If it can happen to me, it can happen to you.
It’s a story that I go over and over in my mind on a daily basis, one that I can’t escape from, it just keeps on replaying in my mind.
I was told ‘at this stage it was just a bunch of cells’.
No. No. No.
No. No. No.
It took us 3 years from the removal of my implant to conceive, 3 fucking years. 3 years of dreaming of a baby, a sibling, 3 years of Leo asking to be a BIG BROTHER, and my body failed us.
A bunch of cells? No way.
As soon as that test threw us a little pink line, those little cells meant we were going to be parents again. They meant that Leo was going to welcome his very first baby brother or sister.
As soon as that test threw us a little pink line, those little cells meant we were going to be parents again. They meant that Leo was going to welcome his very first baby brother or sister.
Our baby was never ever ‘just a bunch of cells’. Our futures changed as soon as that pregnancy test presented that second line.
No one wants to talk about miscarriage.
No one wants to talk about loss, a baby that might have been.
No one wants to talk about loss, a baby that might have been.
No one wants to remember a baby that ‘never was’.
I could show you what happened through the pictures I took, I could show you the pregnancy sac, the clots, I could show you, tell you, everything.
But I won't (howver if you are facing a miscarriage and want to know what to expect, please message me. I'm happy to talk, and know what you are going through, drop me a message!).
I could show you what happened through the pictures I took, I could show you the pregnancy sac, the clots, I could show you, tell you, everything.
But I won't (howver if you are facing a miscarriage and want to know what to expect, please message me. I'm happy to talk, and know what you are going through, drop me a message!).
I am going to share our story anyway, I am going to smile through the tears and remember how happy we were in those first few weeks knowing that we had a little baby growing away inside.
I am always going to remember.
Luke will always remember.
Leo will always remember.
Little baby Rose, 30th June 2019 - 20:34.
No life should fit in one little shoe box, no life should be contained within four little walls.
No life should fit in one little shoe box, no life should be contained within four little walls.
When a baby is lost in the womb, there is very little to cling to, very little to hold.
This little box is all we have.
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