BY LAURA (GUEST WRITER)
I want to share this with you all, its not nice its a completely taboo subject, but it should have a voice, and should be spoken about and listened to. So it’s hard to know where to start… the exciting little secret that we don’t tell anybody because we are waiting for our ”safe 12 weeks..” but if we haven’t told anybody… how can people help us grieve?… I want to help raise some miscarriage awareness.
Maybe I’ll start with the drive home from work, full day at work completed never did I think my day would end the way it did. A funny little pain in my side that just wouldn’t go away. So when I got home I ran myself a bath (something I never do) as I thought it would help the aching feeling. It didn’t and I got inpatient and got out.
I went to the toilet and there was a tiny bit of blood, but that was okay, I had been there before and carried a healthy happy baby. But it wasn’t right.., I said to myself something isn’t right. I told my partner and he reassured me, you’ve felt poorly before, you’ve bled before you’ll be okay.
No I said! We’re having a scan tonight, so I called the private clinic and they could see me in an hour. As my partner was confident I said to him you stay home and put our little one to bed & ill ask my sister in law to come with me. Never did I imagine what we was about to encounter.
In the waiting room we joked about men being laid back and telling us everything is fine when we feel a bit funny and how its nice to get some reassurance. The workers were very touchy and nice but we joked about that to. I laid on the bed waiting to hear that everything was fine and I needed to take it easy.
The lady asked me to move in all different positions, lifting my bum up, holding my hands underneath. The other lady turned the screen off, I should of known at that point it wasn’t going to end well. The lady looked for ages on the screen. She pulled out the scanner and said the three words I never even imagined. “There’s no heartbeat”.
My whole world crashed before my eyes. No heartbeat, means no baby. That means no birth, no birthdays, no Christmas’, no sibling. I couldn’t even process the words, I didn’t even know what happened next.
How do I tell my partner that I failed to carry his child? How do I tell my parents my body failed to carry their grandchild safely. How do I tell my toddler that mummy’s baby isn’t coming anymore. My body failed…I failed… Why has this happened to me!?…
Is it because I ran up the stairs too fast? Did I stress to much? Did I buy the little outfit to soon because I didn’t wait for 12 weeks?! Was I not conscious enough, I told a handful of people our exciting news. But only because of the sicky mornings and because I would go out and not be drinking at weddings and hen do’s. So it was an exciting little secret to share. I’m sorry I did. Because now I have to tell you I’ve failed.
Nobody knows what to say. Everybody is sorry. There are so many questions I needed answers to but I had to be strong. I had to be grateful for the little one I have at home so I pushed everyone away and told them “it just wasn’t meant to be” but it was meant to be. Our baby was going to make us a family of four. I didn’t even know how I would tell people, Do I tell people I have two children? If I have another baby technically that’s my third pregnancy. So yes I have two children one which has wings or do I ignore that pregnancy because it was the worst nightmare you could ever wish upon anyone.
My dad told me to stop being so tough and broke down the wall inside of me which allowed me to cry and be sad. So actually my little bee deserves to be remembered because we did see their heartbeat looking like a little diamond ring flicking in the sunshine. And you know what I can feel sad and I can grieve for my baby.
Because Bee deserves to be remembered. And other Mummies and Daddies, and Aunties and Uncles and Grandparents need to know that it’s okay. It’s okay to feel sad, and angry at the world, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to remember.
I joined a group online to help. At first I thought it was rubbish and everyone was talking about their new pregnancies and rainbow babies – something I didn’t even want to think about. I saw a post about a lady that was pregnant and her words were “I wish I wasn’t pregnant this summer, none of my clothes fit me” – it took all of me not to tell her where to go. The group helped me to understand I needed closure. I felt raw and it was never going to leave me. A lot of families said how they buried their baby, with a plant or cremated the baby. Panic then set in – I hadn’t even asked where my baby was after the baby being removed by surgery my whole world was upside down. I didn’t even know where my baby was. My partner told me to stop reading them as he didn’t believe them. But it played on my mind too much.
I called the hospital to ask. The lady was horrified that we hadn’t been given the option to collect the baby after my surgery (the experience of loosing the baby is something I am not ready to talk about yet.) The lady was lovely, her name was Helen and she was calm and understanding. She looked into it and with about half an hour called back with something that made me smile. I was so relieved. The baby was there and we could decide what we wanted to do. I could bring our baby home. I could remember my baby and I will remember my baby.
So I’ve been told so many times, 1 in 4 women go through a miscarriage, I’m not a statistic. I never wanted to prove the statistic right or wrong. I am a Mummy, a Mummy of two and my baby is a baby it’s not 1 in 4 … it’s our baby, that we will miss dearly but will always have a place in our hearts, our homes and our memories.
YOU CAN FIND LAURA ON:
INSTAGRAM: LIFE WITH MUMMA