Aside from being fabulous Frocktober, October is also Pregnancy and Baby Loss awareness month.
A few years ago I had a blog which was a sort of private diary, I used it during a time when we were trying to conceive. I have never shared the posts from that blog with anyone however I thought now might be the right time. Please be aware that these posts deal with miscarriage and are very emotive and were written at a time when I was feeling a lot of emotions so if these things are triggering to you please do not read on.
My Baby Loss, Part 1.
Wednesday, 18 July 2012
It has been a long time since my last blog post, I’ve been slack but I was planning a triumphant return. I’d start blogging when I got a positive pregnancy test and we were expecting baby number 2, I thought it’d be a great way to keep a journal for baby number 2 and a great way to share my exciting news without actually sharing my exciting news (cos I have a reading audience of – ummm me 😉 We decided about 2 months ago it was time to start trying for baby number 2. Cycle 1 wasn’t the winner but cycle 2, with some help from 50 shades of Grey had us well on our way to making a shades of grey baby. (If u haven’t read it and want to make a baby, I don’t really recommend it, porn is probably more entertaining but it did do the trick for us!)
Anyway, the first positive pregnancy test happened on Monday last week and yet there was no blog post – yep, slack! It was very faint and the line wasn’t where I’d expect a line to be for a positive result. You see, I cheaped out and bought the ebay cheapy test strips because I used about a dozen (I’m exaggerating, but only slightly) tests when I fell pregnant with Pie and I thought, ‘Hey if I’m going to pee on sticks I’d much prefer to pay 50c for them then $8’. So I tested again on Tuesday with one of the aforementioned $8 sticks (cos I used all the cheap ones I’d bought peeing on them in the days before Monday when I suspected something was going on it there – see I told u I have a tendency to pee on sticks) and there it was – a faint little pink line in the ‘Pregnant’ window. I took it to hubby, he could see it too, we hugged and smiled and were so happy. New home and now a new baby on the way 🙂 In the week up to that (between peeing on 50c sticks) we had been moving house, so it’s been a pretty busy time. Tuesday was spent doing the final outgoing clean, so by Tuesday night I was in agony from over doing it and certainly not in the mood for blogging.
Then it was Wednesday and I woke up to find I was bleeding – not heavily enough to ruin my brand new awesome bed (which I will no doubt blog about in the future but right now its not that important in my head) but heavy enough to think that I’ll never hold this little baby in my arms or feel its little fluttery kicks or know if it was a boy or a girl. And that certainly didn’t lead to a happy return to the blogosphere. It did however bring me to be a member of the club.
So whats the club? I’d always been aware of ‘the club’ and, especially since having Pie, I’d felt a lot of empathy for its members. I’d share remembrance posts about miscarriage and the loss of a baby and women would ask “do you have an angel baby?” and I’d almost feel ashamed to have been so blessed – 1 for 1, 1 wonderful pregnancy and 1 amazing healthy baby. Go me. The day my little Pie was born, 3 other women that I know gave birth too, 4 little babies but only 3 of them were to stay in this world. Knowing that my baby survived and her baby did not is a constant reminder of how blessed I am.
This club is for mumma’s who have suffered the loss of a child. Of course, I didn’t want to join it, I never want to join! I’d take the shame of being so, so lucky when others aren’t any day of the week, over a lifetime membership to a club of heartache and grief. I know how loving a baby feels and the loss of one is a pain I never want to feel… and yet its Wednesday and here I am, registration papers in hand, bleeding heavier than I have bled before, feeling excruciating pains in my back, all set to join the club. Just 24hrs ago I was showing my husband the faded little pink line that held so much promise.
I think that is the worst part right now – only 24hrs so I feel like I don’t deserve to grieve, like my loss is insignificant because I only really knew about this baby for such a short time and to be honest, I had a bad feeling too. It was like a ball of stress in the pit of my stomach, swirling with doubts that I was trying to ignore – ‘The test result is too faint’, My symptoms aren’t strong, I don’t feel like I’m pregnant’, ‘It’s nothing like when I was expecting Pie’… With Pie I had my first faint positive when I was 3 and a half weeks – according to my dates it was 5 weeks now and all I get is this faint glimmer of a line to tell me the little bubble in my heart and head is real. And now I’m bleeding and cramping and its just not fair. I come back to bed sobbing and tell my husband that I think I’m losing our baby. He holds me and we cry together.
Wednesday I stayed in bed, I made my husband tell my family, I cried, I grieved. My family came, my friends circled around to see if I was ok and although I was sad, I was ok. Everyone told me to go to the Dr but I wasn’t ready to be that strong. Offspring broke my heart when my favourite woman on TV bled like me and yet got a happy ending – I wished for it, hoped for it but knew it wasn’t the same. So Thursday I made a Drs apt.
I told the Doctor about the pain, the agonising backpain and the cramps like a bad period. I told the Doctor about the bleeding and how it hadn’t eased. The Dr read my file, he said things like “It was only faint positive but you should be 5 weeks? You may need to go to the hospital.” and “You had a cervix tear when you gave birth to your daughter? You’ll have to go to the hospital.” and “You have a negative blood type, you will have to go to the hospital, you need anti-D shots for the safety of future pregnancies.” I felt scared, I squeezed my husbands hand while the Doctor rang the hospital “I’ve got a womanhere with a probable or impending miscarriage.” he said. The hope I’d let build up sank again… The M word, from the doctors mouth. He hung up, printed out his notes and said to me “Do you know where casualty is? Go straight there now.” and sent me on my way. All the little tad bits of information I’d picked up without realising began to scream at me in my head
Was this cos I didn’t have enough anti-D shots during my pregnancy with Pie? Was I supposed to go back and get one? Did I get so caught up in my little Pie that I forgot something so important? Was this all my fault?? Or had my bad tears birthing Piper made it so I simply won’t be able to carry another baby?? Will I never have that joy again? A light positive… maybe its ectopic?? Or worse, was this all my fault because I had insisted on not going home to rest but working so hard to clean the stupid old house so we could get our bond back in fukl? What could I have done differently?? Why was this happening to us?
We got there, they took me in, they asked me all the questions, was this my first pregnancy? Had I miscarried before? How was the pain? How long since I’d had pain killers? How heavy was the bleeding? How pregnant did I think I was? They took some blood and asked me to pee in a cup and then they sent me to the waiting room to wait… The longer I waited the more my head played games with me – at one point I was half expecting them to come to me and say “I’m sorry, we checked your blood and urine samples and you weren’t pregnant, this has all been a Nina-esque figment of your imagination you drama queen.” One of the nurses even looked like Dr Klegg. Yes, I am a big fan of Offspring. And then finally a Doctor called me back in.
She was young, probably a new registrar (is that what they call them?), maybe I was the first person she would have to discuss this with? She said she was sorry I’d had to wait so long, she asked how I was feeling (not peachey, funnily enough), she told me that my hormone levels test results were in and the levels were very low – 32 (now a number I’m not such a fan of). She explained that a level of 32 would suggest a very early pregnancy, not a 5 week pregnancy or… and she couldn’t look me in the eye and her lip had a little quiver and I said “or it means I’ve had a miscarriage.” she nodded and I almost felt like I needed to comfort her through sharing this awful news with me. She had trouble making eye contact but she asked how I was feeling, “Ok… We sort of knew.” I say. She explains they have to do further blood tests to confirm it but if my bleeding or pain gets worse I need to come straight back. She gives me the number for the early pregnancy clinic who will handle my case from there and do the follow up care and talk to me about what next.
Now I just have to have an anti-D shot and then I can go home – so I wait… and finally a nurse comes and takes me to a different room. She goes to get the right medicine from maternity, she chats to another nurse about her slow day, she gets her little nurses tray organised – I wait, I feel like it takes a year and I so desperately want to be out of there. She comes back and jabs the needle into my arm, “This ones a stingy one.” she explains sympathetically as she slowly injects it in, drop by agonising drop. But I can’t feel the syrum, physically I am numb. Being stuck there trying to hold in the sobs that want to escape me, that’s what hurts. And finally she rubs the injection site for a lifetime, puts on a little bandaid and lets me go home. As the doors close behind us the tears start to stream down my face and I sob to Kev “I was hoping I was wrong, I wanted it to be ok so badly.” My heart is broken.
That night Piper stayed with Nanny and Granddad so Kev and I cried and grieved together again. Kev wondered when we could try again, I wondered if this baby would have been like Pie. My wonderful friends offered me their strength and love and support. Those who were in the club already, so knew, held my hand, I cried more, I wondered when the miscarriage would be over. And I slept.
Friday came and I got a call from the EPC, they told me to come in and pick up blood test forms so they could get a full picture. They told me to get the blood test over the weekend and they would call me Monday to make an apt for the clinic that week. And life went on, I was sad but I was ok, sometimes I burst into tears for no reason but I had a perfectly acceptable explanation for that. Monday morning I had my blood test and I waited for the EPC to call. And waited and waited… At 4pm they called, the nurses asked me how far pregnant I should be and I told her it would be 6 weeks this week and then she said the strangest thing “You haven’t had a miscarriage. We got your blood test results and your hormone levels have more than doubled since Thursday.”
Unfortunately, its not entirely good news yet – the hormone levels are low and although rising it wasn’t a huge rise. There could be a perfectly healthy little embryo growing in there, or it could be ectopic or not developing properly in some other way. So the nurse made me an appointment for Thursday at 2.15 and since Monday at 4pm I have been waiting… Waiting for the appointment when they will do more tests and scans so we will actually know where we stand… Waiting for the bleeding to start again… Waiting for morning sickness to kick in…Waiting until its safe to stop fighting the happiness and excitement I feel… Waiting for my world to come crashing down again… Waiting, waiting, waiting…
And now its Wednesday again and I’m still in limbo but tomorrow it will be Thursday and tomorrow I might know more.