That’s probably not the way to start a blog but to be honest, I can’t think of another way-I’ve been waiting to find a time when I can speak about what I went through.
And now words seem to fail me.
I was picking up washing off of the floor when it happened. ‘Pop‘. I can honestly recall hearing my tummy making that noise.
I’d never had a miscarriage before. I’d never even thought about it being a possibility for me after having a baby 18 months before. Maybe that made me ignorant. Maybe I took it all for granted.
Something told me to go the toilet. As I sat down, in toddled my 18 month old.
He wanted juice. I remember he asked for it as I looked down at the toilet paper. I remember getting up and repeating “juice, juice” at him so I didn’t forget. I got his juice and sat him with a snack in front of the TV.
On autopilot I went to the bedroom, sat on the end of my bed and called my husband. He never usually answered calls while at work-but he did, straight away. It didn’t occur to me until after that day, how odd it really was.
I told him I needed to go to the hospital, that I was bleeding and that he needed to get his Mum to come and sit with Kye.
I waited for him to come and just sat, hugging my tummy so tight. I tried to keep our baby in, asking it not to go, repeating over and over “please don’t leave me”.
My husband came home. “It’s just a bit of blood”, he said, “It happens to a lot of women”. His Mum said the same thing when she arrived to collect Kye-I knew though.
After a long wait at the hospital, following lots of bloods being taken and a three hour wait for a scan, in we went.
She scanned…..and scanned…..and no heartbeat was found. It had never been there. Our little baby, who I’d been planning pushchairs and car seats for, had never even been alive.
The ultrasound technician said “we’ll scan you again to make sure next week.” I remember questioning in my head, why she’d bother-we all knew what was happening.
I sobbed the whole way back to my little room. A lady came in and held me-and I heard my husband saying to her “they said her dates might just be out, they’re going to re-scan her-nothing’s 100%”. I pulled away from her arms, watching how she looked at him and then back at me-I already knew and so did she.
Regardless of whether there was ever a heartbeat, I remember my baby. I remember feeling and being pregnant. That was my child.
I went on to have two more miscarriages. Each as heartbreaking as the other but each expected after the first one. I’d mentally set myself up for loss. Each time it happened I’d say “well I knew that would happen”, while being as devastated as before.
Little did I know that setting myself up for loss and negativity as I did during those years, as well as the lack of mental health aftercare following my losses, led to me being diagnosed with PTSD including severe anxiety disorder and depression a year after my daughter was born.
Ironically, I actually fell pregnant for the 5th time, while I was waiting for test results to find out why I kept losing babies.
I never found out why, because this one stuck. I had a daughter-my rainbow baby after my storms.
I feel so incredibly blessed to have my children, even if I hadn’t had anymore-I was blessed to be given the chance to even have one. I understand that there are so many people around the world can’t have babies, or who have had even more losses than me, and I can’t imagine how that feels.
People think when you’ve had a baby after losses, it helps with the feeling of grief and loss. They believe that because you already have a child, you be grateful for that one-and it should “help” ease your pain-I can’t say that I agree.
Don’t get me wrong-my children make me happier than I can explain. But I’ll never not grieve for my unborn babies-I’ll never not wonder what they would have looked like, or been like-whether they’d have shared any traits or similarities with their Brother and Sister.
Ultimately-I have carried 5 babies, and I am a Mummy to all of them.