I am the one in four and I’m breaking the taboo: the story of my miscarriage

Nothing can ever prepare you for this. It doesn’t matter if you know the statistics, hearing those words will crush your world, your dreams and your hopes.

‘I’m really sorry, but there’s no heartbeat. I’m afraid it’s a miscarriage.’

Miscarriage affects so many of us, yet it’s still a taboo topic for many reasons. That’s why I decided to share our story with you and let you know you’re not alone. It was actually my husband who encouraged me to write this blog, and I can’t thank him enough. Writing down all my thoughts and feelings really helped me with the mental pain of losing someone who’s so close to my heart.

Our miscarriage story

At the end of week 11 of my pregnancy I noticed some spotting. It was really nothing and completely normal in the first trimester so I tried to keep calm. I had a bit of that when I was pregnant with Adam so I didn’t panic at first.

My first pregnancy was so easy, so smooth, everything was fine. I was full of optimism for my second pregnancy, I was convinced everything is going to be fine, I just assumed everything is going to be ok and that in 8 and a bit months we’ll have another ray of sunshine in our life. I wasn’t scared I might miscarry, I just knew everything is going to go really smoothly. Sure, I had terrible nausea and awful mood swings for the first few weeks, but then everything seemed to have settled and I was feeling great. Now I know it’s because our little bean stopped developing at time…..

This horrible feeling that you can’t shake

After a day of spotting I got a bit of abdominal pain, nothing major but enough to get me worried. I thought maybe it’s because I had an intense schedule (as you do with a toddler), so I had a rest and was feeling a bit better the next day. But then it came back, and the spotting got a bit more worrying, so we went to the emergency room and they referred us to the early pregnancy clinic. At this point I started getting this terrible feeling that it’s hard to explain, but mums know it best. But I was still hopeful that everything is going to be fine.

After waiting for quite a while, I went into the room for the scan. The sonographer wasn’t saying much and when she finally did, she told me she’s not finding what she should be at week 11. She needed to do an internal scan, which proved my biggest worries…. Our baby’s heart wasn’t beating, he or she stopped growing and developing at about 6 or 7 weeks.

I felt numb, I was lost for words, I felt so empty, and helpless and hurt. It was only when I left the room and called my husband, when I said those words at loud it all suddenly became very real… We lost our baby.

Trying to hold it together I left the clinic and headed home with a leaflet that they gave me.

A missed miscarriage and difficult decisions you’re faced with

The sonographer called this a missed miscarriage, my body hasn’t recognised that our baby wasn’t growing. In this already difficult time, we had to take a deep breath and consider the options: wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally, manage is medically with a drug called Misoprostol or opt for a surgical procedure.

Reading this bloody leaflet was awful, devastating – not because of the content, but because of the decision you need to make after considering all these options. A decision you need to make even though you can’t stop crying or once you finally manage that, you fall apart into millions of pieces….

We took our time to make a decision, it wasn’t easy because either way it feels like you’re hurting your baby, someone you love unconditionally, someone you love the most in the whole world. Saying that it’s ok to think about you too. I just knew that if I wait for the miscarriage to happen naturally, it would destroy me, I was completely shattered as it was and deep inside I knew I need to get stronger for my boys.

We decided to do the medical management. I went back to the clinic, they applied the drugs and then it was a waiting game. Sometimes they don’t even work.

Few hours after I took them, the pain gradually increased and it got worse. When they say it’s a bit worse then period cramps, don’t believe that, it’s a lot worse. Truthfully, it felt like labour-in-full-swing pain. Even though I was in agony and on very strong painkillers, I was glad it hurts so much, because it numbed my mental pain. Physically I felt better in the evening and then the next morning, but in the afternoon the pain started again. It was so awful I almost passed out.

Gradually, even though I was weak, I was recovering physically. Mentally, I was ok one minute, the next I was falling apart and sobbing.

It was the smallest things that made and still make me cry – watching Adam do something really sweet like giving his daddy a kiss and a cuddle, coming across a picture of me from my previous pregnancy with Adam, finding his first clothes… constantly going back to the day when I found out I was pregnant again, remembering how happy we were. Going back to the evenings when we would sit on the bed after Adam fell asleep, joking that if our next baby is the same as Adam (so crazy and full of energy), we’ll probably never sleep again. All these happy memories made me hurt even more.

The thing that kept me going was the support from my amazing husband and our cheeky little monkey. His happiness and laughter was the only thing that made me smile at the beginning… We all healed one day at a time.

I wanted to express thanks to our amazing family and friends, for their support and for saying we’re here if you need us.

It took me a while to bring myself up to writing this very personal post, but deep down I knew I had to do this, because our baby deserves to be remembered. I would normally bury it deep down, afraid what others might think. But even if it helps one woman, one couple find a bit of comfort in this extremely difficult time, it’s worth it. Just know you’re not alone.

This is for you my little angel, I just want you to know how loved you are by me, by daddy and by your big brother. We will always love you and we’ll think of you every day.