Life After Miscarriage

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.

I am 1 in 4.

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. 

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. 

Our baby was never ever ‘just a bunch of cells’. Our futures changed as soon as that pregnancy test presented that second line. 

They changed again the moment we were told ‘I’m sorry but there is no heartbeat’.

A whole lifetime taken away before it even started. A baby we would never know. A piece of the jigsaw that would never fit.

No one wants to talk about miscarriage. 

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 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. 

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. 

A Complete Miscarriage

On Thursday 1st August Luke and I made our way back to Worcester Royal for my appointment.

A week ago I made the same journey filled with such hope, I thought I was going to see my baby’s heart beating on screen for the very first time. I thought that all of the worry of the last few weeks, of that last hospital appointment was all going to be forgotten. 

Only that wasn’t the case. I had gone away with the knowledge that my baby didn’t have a heartbeat. That my baby had shrunk.

That my baby was dead.

That my pregnancy had failed.

That it was all over.

The miscarriage had already happened naturally on the Tuesday (30th July), but I hadn’t had the heart to ring the hospital and talk it through with them. I don’t think I could have, not without being a big blubbery mess and not making much sense. I decided to keep my cards close to my chest and just go along today and tell them before the scan.

We arrived and sat in the same waiting room I had sat in exactly 7 days before. I watched a pregnant lady walk in with her notes. I looked down at the floor, reality gripped me and wouldn’t let go. I tried to hold back the tears. 

I didn’t want to cry here. Luke rubbed my leg, he knew I had seen her. 

He knew I was gutted. 

My name was called, we got up and walked along to a different ultrasound room to the week before. I saw the male sonogropher who I had deeply hoped I wouldn’t have last week... he was lovely. I told them my sorry tale. I sort of kept it together but I could feel my voice crumbling beneath me. 

They told me they were sorry, but they could never be as sorry as I was. I explained that I was still bleeding and asked if they would be able to do the scan as a trans abdominal ultrasound. 

They said that they could. I was beyond elated.

My empty uterus flashed onto the screen. As last week it was tilted away from me, I asked if they could move it so that I could see too. 

He told me that I had a retroverted uterus, something that no one had ever mentioned to me before, this helped me trust him. They had failed to tell me this at the viability scan a week ago. One of many things that were written in their official hospital notes but not vocalised to me.

An empty black space where my baby and gestational sac had been appeared. They explained that I had experienced a complete miscarriage. This means that all signs of the pregnancy had gone, just how everything should be in a situation like mine. 

I asked if they could make sure that everything inside me looked as it should look, I knew they couldn’t tell me why my baby had died, but I needed to know if it was something that my body may have done.

As expected... everything was normal. Everything was as it should be.

I had written a list of questions that I bombarded this poor man with. He half answered most questions, almost avoiding the real answer. He couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me when he thought the baby had stopped growing, there was just some speel about mistakes being made, and not being able to go into that detail (or something along those lines).

They apologised once again, and we left to go to the EPAU (early pregnancy assessment unit) where I had appointment with a nurse.

We waited until my name was called and followed a lady into the room where I had been told my baby had died.

I got my list of questions out again. I pulled up the scan photo on my phone, I asked her all of my many, many questions. 

She gave me more than the sonogropher did. She said the baby looks to have stopped growing around 6 weeks, that the baby may have never had a heartbeat. 

I was told sometimes these things just happen, that we never really know the reason why. I was handed a miscarriage information booklet, she offered to take my pregnancy notes for me... I declined. 

I wanted those notes to keep, we have a shoe box (ironically the one I used to announce the pregnancy to Luke and Leo), where we have put everything that relates to our little Pop. We don’t have a lot, but those notes needed to be with the rest of Pop’s things. Proof that he or she existed, if only for a short time.

Then she said it ‘it was only a bunch of cells at this stage’, I couldn’t have disagreed more. That little ball of cells was our baby, our future. We had already planned our lives around having a new baby, and just like that it had all been ripped away.

I had been determined not to get sad, but I failed. The tears came, and I was angry at myself. 

I have realised that I am a crier. I cry when I’m sad, when I’m happy and when I’m angry. No matter the situation I cry. 

I hate that.

I stayed in that room asking all my questions and she gave me that time, I really appreciated that. I knew when I left that room, when we walked out of that hospital, that was it. That was the end. 

My pregnancy was over and my normal life had to resume sometime. I had been off work for 2 days, since the miscarriage had happened, but tomorrow it was time to go back.

I know some people take longer, but I knew I was over the worst of it and sitting around at home was not going to do me any favours. 

My body had not been able to keep the pregnancy, but it had successfully cleaned me inside and saved me the horror of any management options, especially the trauma of surgery.

We got in the car and drove home, the miscarriage was behind us, but emotionally we both had a long way to go. 

Miscarriage - I am 1 in 4

Sunday 28th July - 8 weeks + 2

I was just getting ready to go to bed, Luke was in the upstairs bathroom so I decided to go downstairs, I had a funny feeling In my tummy that usually signalled the start of my period...but of course I was pregnant so it couldn’t and wouldn’t be that.

When I wiped I noticed that there was pink blood on the tissue. It was about 11:30pm. 

I knew that this was my body announcing the beginning of the end. My pregnancy was indeed over, the little life that had started growing inside of me had gone, the lights had gone out. 

It was over. 

I went upstairs to Luke and presented him the tissue, borderline hysterical inside but composed enough to make sense and not to alert Leo to anything out of the ordinary.

I dug around in my many draws to try and find a pad (which I never keep in as I hate them and refuse to use!) and thankfully cane across one (being Sunday night there of course was nowhere open if I had needed to send Luke out... typical).

I got into bed and sat there in the dark, my phone lighting up my face and revealing the silent tears that gently slid down my face. 

Luke held me until he fell asleep, but sleep didn’t come easy for me. 

Monday 29th July - 8+3

It was Monday morning, my many alarms sounded one after the other. 

I promptly went to the bathroom, I wondered what I would find. I was pleasantly surprised to see that there was little to no bleeding, I knew I could go to work and do what I needed to do today. 

The working day came and went, nothing was really happening. It took until around midnight that night, I was certain I was having light contractions. 

As I got into bed and started to quieten down for sleep, I was aware that something was happening. 

I wondered if this was the start of everything. 

Tuesday 30th July - 8+4

 I woke up and felt a familiar feeling that I hadn’t had in over 8 years. 

A contraction.

I wasn’t in any pain but I knew my body meant business today. When I went to the loo I noticed that I had passed the first big clot.

I could tell that my body was kicking things up a gear and I was in two minds about going to work. 

I had never experienced anything like this before and I was terrified it might all kick off during the day. I knew I wanted to be at home when it all eventually happened, definitely not in the office.

I text my boss and let him know that the miscarriage had started, but at this point I felt that I was able to come into work, however I may need to suddenly run away pretty quickly...

I literally had no idea what to expect or how long it was going to take, I knew in some cases it could take weeks. I didn’t want to over react, I didn’t really know how to react or what to do. 

I knew I didn’t want to take the mick with work though, and I didn’t want to start taking time off if nothing was happening.

I went to work and stayed until 1pm, ordinarily I would have been there until 2pm. 

I had spent the entire day sat down, I had been scared to stand up because gravity really does seem to help a miscarriage progress...I was paranoid that when I did stand up the pad would have failed me. 

I Left work and made the 10 minute drive home. When I got home the bleeding started to really flow. 

I feel like I left at exactly the right time. 

Luke and Leo had wanted to go and watch the Lion King, and so had I for that matter. We were all thinking about getting ready to go, but I could feel the contractions progressing and couldn’t help feeling that something was really starting to happen. 

There was a little voice in my head telling me that going to the cinema tonight was a very bad idea indeed...

I was soaking pads very quickly, and the contractions were becoming more regular. Every time there was a contraction more blood and clotting came away. 

I made a conscious effort to keep standing up to make sure that gravity was able to work it’s magic.  Just like I did when I was in labour with Leo, only this time there wasn’t going to be a happy ending.

At about 8pm I decided to run a bath and ‘clean up a bit’, but it didn’t take long for the bath to turn blood red. 

The contractions got stronger and were just like the end of labour with Leo. They weren’t painful, they were uncomfortable and I could instantly remember why I was getting so impatient with being at home at that stage in my labour with Leo. 

I decided to stay in the bath, I lifted my leg up and there was a long, hard contraction that certainly meant business. I don’t remember pushing or applying pressure.... but at the end of that final contraction the gestational sac that housed my baby, plopped into the bath water. 

At this stage I had cried all my tears and made peace with what was happening. I must have called for Luke, because he came running upstairs (god knows what he thought when he saw the bath!), and by this point I have reached into the water, and now had the gestational sac (and baby!) laid flat in the palm of my left hand.

The contractions stopped as soon as I had passed the gestational sac. Just like that, my body had been working towards one end goal, and the objective had been reached. 

I lay there thinking how amazing our bodies really are, they just know what to do even when we are unsure. 

Luke looked more emotional than I felt, I think I had cried that much when the bleeding started and had that time already to form a sort of acceptance, but for Luke this was all fresh and new. 

Maybe it all felt real for the first time. 

I must have stayed in the bath another 10 minutes or so just looking at what would have become our second child. I bathed the sac and cleaned it all up as much as I could, I felt like this was perhaps the one and only thing I could do for our little one now. 

Luke had brought me a pot, and we placed the baby inside ready for a proper burial.

It took 3 days for my body to complete the miscarriage, from the start of the bleeding to passing the sac and baby. 

My natural miscarriage lasted 3 days. For me this was the absolute best way for the worst thing to happen, the thought of taking pills to bring this on medically made me feel uncomfortable. I would have always had a doubt in my mind that a mistake had been made...

I wanted my body to realise the awful thing that had happened and act accordingly.

Just like it eventually did.

3 days after I was told the heart had stopped (July 25th), if it had indeed ever beaten at all...it all unfolded as it should. 

I didn’t need another confirmation that the baby didn’t have a heartbeat, my body had let me know that all on it’s own. 

Sunday 4th August

A week after the first spotting had started, I passed what I am certain was a very small placenta. 

It didn’t look like the other clots that I had passed, it was different. Having been to the hospital on Thursday (August 1st) where they scanned me and declared that there was nothing left, I had experienced a complete miscarriage, everything that should have come away, had.... they had missed this little placenta.

I didn’t have anymore contractions when the placenta came out. It just arrived, and that was it, the last little thing that made me pregnant was gone. 

I was no longer pregnant. 

5th August 

With the last of the pregnancy out of me, my body must have taken note. The bleeding stopped, just like that.

I had bled for 9 days straight, only really heavily on the night of the actual miscarriage. 

Once everything was gone, it stopped.

First Trimester - 5 Weeks Pregnancy Update

At 5 weeks the baby is the size of a Orange Seed!

There is still so much uncertainty over just how far gone I am. 

Hopefully this is a mystery that can be wrapped up this coming Thursday, that is when I visit my local hospital for a scan to pinpoint just how many weeks pregnant I am.

How am I feeling?

Last week we went for my re-scan at Peek-a-baby, and I left feeling horrible. 

They could see the sack but no baby, words like ‘early pregnancy failure’ were thrown around and I felt my body start to shut down. I didn’t want to talk to the sonographer any longer, she wasn’t a lady of many words (English wasn’t her first language which didn’t help), and I felt that  she hadn’t communicated anything very well to me at all. 

The tears started to fall in the car when we left, we were now on a journey to tell Luke’s mum the news of our pregnancy and expanding family. A conversation I didn’t feel like having anymore, because there was doubt in my mind, I may not be having a baby at all anymore. 

I didn’t even know if I was going to be able to stop the tears before we arrived, and I didn’t know if they would stop and stay shut off during any conversations we were about to have. I was supposed to be excited, I was supposed to be happy about telling family about our news, but I actually felt like a fraud telling people about a baby that may actually never be.

On that car journey I googled early scans, I googled pregnancy sacks that didn’t house embryos and came across ‘blighted ovum’, this is a term that refers to a pregnancy that will never ever be.

A blighted ovum is when a pregnancy establishes, a sack develops, a positive pregnancy test is witnessed and the placenta even starts to develop... but the baby never does. 

It’s an early form of miscarriage.

Whatever way I choose to look at this pregnancy, we weren’t going to know anything for another 2 weeks, and that fortnight has felt like an eternity.

Telling Luke's Family

We arrived at Luke’s Mum’s house, and Luke made the announcement. Everyone was very happy, but I didn’t share that excitement. Instead I felt anxious, worried and lost.

That next day I was an emotional mess, Luke very almost booked an early scan somewhere else to try and put my mind at rest, but I told him we needed to wait. I kept going over my dates again and again, Luke was certain that I was just way to early to see anything much on a scan.

Boy how I wanted to believe him.

Going Back Over My Dates...

I went over the dates all day, plotting possible eventualities on my calendar. I ovulated on May 21st, got my first faint positive on June 3rd. Got a 1-2 weeks pregnant on a Clear Blue Digital on June 4th and added 2 weeks to that date to bring me out at 4 weeks pregnant. When I had attended my first Peek a Baby Scan on June 21st, I believed I was already 6 weeks pregnant, which would make me 8 weeks now. 

Actually though when I looked closely at the dates, allowing up to 12 days for implantation, it was entirely possible that at this stage... I could theoretically only be 5 weeks pregnant. 

That would explain the empty sac at the first scan - I would have only been 3 weeks pregnant. It would explain the empty sac at the re-scan - I would have only been 5 weeks pregnant.

It would have been WAY too early to see anything else really at this stage, however the sonographer could have told me what the measurements were and where that would date me instead of jumping straight to miscarriage.

My symptoms come and go, but my boobs have been sore pretty consistently. After some reflective time I have decided not to get myself worked up about an early scan, I have gone over the different scenarios... blighted ovum, early miscarriage and the third scenario.... my dates are slightly out! 

I think my dates are out, I know when I ovulated but I don’t know when I actually conceived. Now I’ve pulled myself down off the ceiling and had time to mull it all over (and do another dozen pregnancy tests....) I’ve come to the conclusion that it will be good news when I go to my nhs scan next week. 

My Body has given me no reason to distrust it, no bleeding, no cramps. If I hadn't gone for the 'Reassurance' Scan, I would probably still just be in disbelief that I was pregnant.

My advice to anyone considering an early scan is don't do it. My experience had me feeling worse than when I first entered.

Here’s a little overview of 5 weeks pregnant..

I’ve been loving sleep this week, early nights and extra long in bed wherever possible! It ordinarily takes me an age to get off to sleep, but these days I shut my eyes and I’m in the land of nod. 

Symptoms:

Achey boobs, fatigue slightly queasy (every now and then) still peeing multiple times, baby brain is in full swing (I think this is just who I am these days!) My boobs have gone really veiny now!

Bump:

No bump to report yet!

Exercise:

HAHA! Exercise? What is this exercise you speak of!? Nope none of that has been completed this week....