That thing that every pregnant woman is terrified of happening happened. Again. For the second time.
We suffered a rather messy miscarriage last summer and it has taken a while to fall pregnant again. I'm guessing largely down to the fact I'm now 41.
In May I was 9 days late and I excitedly took a test which turned out to be negative. Was it time to give up and accept the fact that we weren't destined to have anymore children?
We decided to try not to focus too much on it. I'd largely given up alcohol completely to further our chances and but now decided to relax more and if it happened great.
And it did!
On the day of the Brexit referendum I was working from home. I was only 4 days late but as we were feeling so rubbish about the country and its future I thought "well it can't get much worse can it!?". I took a test.
It was positive!!!
I wandered down the garden to my husband who was in his garden office with a silly look on my face and a positive stick in my hand.
Let the planning commence.
Anyone who knows me knows me as a planner. I love organisation and take great pleasure in making plans and working out logistics etc. So as soon as that positive test was in my hand I'd set up a spreadsheet detailing the next 36 or so weeks and working out that when we fly to France for Christmas I'll be 32 weeks pregnant which causes an issue with Ryanair but not EasyJet. Too soon you may cry and as it turned out it was! But this, for me, is part of the excitement of being pregnant and also just part of me. I'm unable to just live in the moment - maybe it would be easier if I could. Maybe it wouldn't matter.
The pregnancy went well for those first few weeks. I felt incredibly tired and quite nauseous. It's hard to remember but I think I had more symptoms than when I was pregnant with Edith and with last year's pregnancy. All good signs (or so I thought).
We'd told a few people (on a need to know basis really) but weren't seeing my parents until we were 9 weeks so decided to tell them then. I'd even found the perfect Pinterest idea to share the happy news.
At 9 weeks I noticed a bit of blood when I went to the toilet. It wasn't very much so I didn't worry but the next day there was more. I called my midwife (whom I hadn't even met yet) and she referred me for an early scan. As it was a Friday and they were fully booked I didn't get an appointment until Monday meaning a nervous, terrifying wait over the weekend. So we decided to go for a private scan which could be arranged that morning.
I was reading on the internet all these stories of how women had had bleeding in their pregnancy and everything was OK and the statistics etc and I clung on to these facts. Hoping it wouldn't happen to us again.
Sadly we weren't the lucky ones and the private scan confirmed that the very small foetus had stopped developing a week or so before.
I went into planning mode again. Texting work, the childminder etc. This helped focus my mind and stop me thinking on not only the life that had now ended but also the future that wasn't going to happen.
After the issues we had last year - going for all three miscarriage options (natural, medical and surgical management) - we decided there and then that we'd go straight for the surgical option. Drastic it may seem but I couldn't go through it all again only to end up with another infection and surgery at the end of it.
We were due to travel to Devon that evening to attend a large family party/picnic and I still wanted to go. I spent the weekend in a bit of a bubble. I was bleeding more heavily but nothing more than a usual period really. The party went well even though I wasn't feeling very sociable and we had a lot of kind words from friends and family. On the Sunday I really craved some fresh air so asked if we could go for a short walk on Dartmoor and climb over a Tor. Dad chose Hound Tor and we left Mum and Edith in the car (as she was asleep) and walked quickly up the hill towards the Tor. We climbed over the granite and got an amazing view from the top. Just what I wanted. But then I stacked it on the way down! Sandals aren't the best footwear for climbing it would seem!
On Monday we went to our arranged NHS scan even though we already knew the outcome. They confirmed that gestation ended at 8w2. We told the nurse we wanted to go for the surgical option and we're booked in for 7am tomorrow (Weds). Different to last year when I had to stay in overnight and ended up having 4 weeks off work I should be home by lunchtime and back at work next week.
And so it's done. All organised and planned. But what about mine and Dom's mental state?
Who knows?
I can cry quite easily and I'm sure tomorrow it'll hit me hard as I get ready for theatre and for general anaesthetic.
Am I too old to keep trying to have another baby? Is that the problem? Will Edith be happier with a sibling? I feel sad that she has no one to play with and that holidays when she's older will be boring because she's just with her old folks.
Why didn't I meet Dom earlier and have babies sooner? (probably because he was only 22 when we met, any earlier would have been a little wrong).
Should we keep trying and potentially put more strain on our relationship? Are there other options?
So much in my head right now. I think I just have to live in the present, focus on me, Dom and Edith and get through each day the best way I can.
Thanks to everyone for their support, kindness and practical help.
#misCOURAGE
https://www.tommys.org/our-organisation/why-we-exist/miscarriage
❤
ReplyDelete