Someone recently talked to me about my blog and how helpful they found it. She said lots of women go through these things, but not many talk about it. You’re talking about it and that helps so many. Keep doing what your doing.
Her words meant a lot to me and it’s because of that that I am writing this blog post, even though it will be the hardest I ever write. Maybe it will help someone else to read it, but I’m hoping it will help me too.
I recently found out I was pregnant with my second child. We were over the moon, we were so excited for our little girl to become a big sister. Five weeks ago that happiness was shattered when I got up, went to the loo and saw blood.
I tried to stay calm. I was a couple of days away from being six weeks pregnant. This had happened to me around the same time in my first pregnancy and everything had been ok then. It had been caused by the changing hormones, it could be the same thing happening this time.
Whilst I waited for a doctor to call me back I knew deep down that this wasn’t the same as last time. As the morning went on the bleeding got heavier and clots began to appear. I explained to the doctor what was happening and she said, “I’m so sorry this is happening to you, have you had any thoughts as to what this could mean?” I had somehow managed to hold it together until then, but I broke as I replied, “that I’m losing my baby…”
I never knew I could feel so much pain. I asked the doctor if it was possible that the four positive pregnancy tests could all have been wrong. It sounds a silly question and I knew the answer was obviously no. But I thought false pregnancy tests would be easier to deal with than the reality that I was losing my baby.
It doesn’t matter how far along in the pregnancy you are. From the minute that blue line appears that baby is a part of your family and the grief that hits when you know you’re losing them is very real.
It’s also a grief for the unknown. We will never know the person they could have become. We don’t even know if they were our son or daughter. They don’t have a name. They were cruelly taken away too soon for us to find out and do these things.
We didn’t even get to see them. We have no photograph to keep as a memory. There is no record of them. To the world they don’t exist, but to us they mean the world.
I have spent the last month feeling like I’m wandering through a fog and can’t find my way out. I’m at a loss as to how to get through this. I’ve been able to talk to a couple of friends who have unfortunately been through this experience themselves and it seems the only way through is time.
With time it might not hurt so much. I will never forget, but with time I might learn to live with it.