I had been waiting for this moment for months now. Two bright pink lines on what was something like the hundredth pregnancy test I had pushed wee out for. I was so excited it felt like my smile would split my face in half.
My husband and I already have a 4 year old little girl. She has been asking for me to have a baby for years now. We should have tried sooner so she had a little play mate but it just hadn’t seemed like the right time for us – professionally or financially.
We talked it over (albeit tipsy) at my Dad’s 60th birthday celebrations, my cousins and sister-in-law all glowing with excitement and urging us to grow our little pod of three. We were finally ready and not just that, we were both equally excited about it.
Our little girl never knew we were trying and she certainly didn’t know that we had fallen. Looking back now, I’m glad she didn’t, she would have been crushed and it would have been too heartbreaking having to explain it to her.
Just 4 weeks ago, I suffered my first miscarriage…
After a busy day out and about, I went to the toilet and was greeted with brown discharge when I wiped. I didn’t panic at first as I had experienced similar with my first pregnancy so I knew it didn’t necessarily mean anything bad. I’d be lying however if the thought hadn’t ran through my mind though and freaked me out just a little.
A close, beautiful girlfriend of mine suffered a loss many years ago and although I say I wasn’t worried, I checked in with her to ask her opinion. She said the same thing ‘it doesn’t mean anything bad is happening however if it gets heavier or turns red, you need to go see someone’.
Tuesday morning, like most women, pregnant or not, I did my usual morning tinkle and found the brown discharge had darkened. With a second, a little scared, wipe, I passed what appeared to be a small clot. One the size of my pinkie nail. I called my husband, who was on his way to work, and said that I had a bad feeling and a strong urge to go to the hospital.
Our daughter at daycare, we waited for hours, had blood tests taken and a transvaginal ultrasound. The blood tests were ok, my HCG levels were steadily increasing. The ultrasound however discovered that I was more like 4 weeks along, not the 5 ½ the doctor estimated, and that the embryotic sac was surrounded by an unusual amount of blood. The lovely ultrasound lady stressed that this didn’t mean that I was mid-miscarriage. It simply could be that the implantation bleeding was clotting as it was trying to attach. She couldn’t see anything within the sac which she said wasn’t uncommon.
I was horrified when she removed the transvaginal rod. It was covered in blood and I literally felt my heart sink. I think I knew at that moment that our baby wasn’t going to enter our lives the way we were hoping.
That Wednesday Morning
On what will now always been known as That Wednesday Morning, I had a small ache in my tummy and my morning loo trip ended in uncontrollable sobbing and hysterics as I passed a very large, oval shaped piece of tissue followed by heavy bleeding.
My husband stayed home with me and called the hospital. I knew I was miscarrying and that is what he translated to the beautiful doctor who had cared for us the day before. I wanted to stay home, she said absolutely. I wanted to ‘ride’ out the process naturally, she said absolutely. I said I was fine, she said great. My husband wasn’t convinced. I was.
Thursday – Just Another Day
It’s not like I had an all of sudden brain snap where I stopped crying, wiped my face and said ‘right, let’s get on with it’. It wasn’t like that at all. I think, for some reason or another, I felt like something wasn’t right from the beginning. My first pregnancy was so perfect and beautiful that I would feel wrong if this one went the same. We surely can’t be blessed evenly, over and over again. That’s not life.
I was however truly and completely accepting of the fact that my body had chosen this path and it just wasn’t meant to be. Just like you read in all of the pregnancy bibles, a miscarriage is your body’s way of telling you that the pregnancy just wasn’t right in some way or another. And I was totally ok with that.
I continued to work throughout the whole ordeal and looking back now, that wasn’t just a coping mechanism or something to take my mind off things but an opportunity to surround myself with the beauty that is the SAHM team and the utmost support even though at the time they had no idea what we were going through. Mums and mums will always gel and have a sense of ‘knowing’ that something is up. Nurturing is in our blood.
The bleeding lasted for a little over a week which I was absolutely fed up with because I detest wearing pads. Not once did I still feel pregnant, my mind was set on getting through it and just letting my body do its thing. My sore breasts and tender nipples faded around the same time the bleeding stopped. Just quietly, that wasn’t so bad as I have big breasts and was getting sick of having to carry them up and down the stairs as they jiggled with tenderness.
I do miss being pregnant – thinking of baby names, wiping down my daughter’s old cot – but I know our time will come again. The universe works in funny ways and I believe that everything happens for a reason. I am super glad that I came out of the experience not unscathed, but in a clear mental state and accepting of what had happened. I could have so easily gone in the other direction but support, love and a small understanding of what and why it was happening got me through.