Before I had my 2nd MC, I said to people, if this was to happen again, it would destroy me. The first one near enough tore me apart, and I had moments of total, absolute craziness. I don't mind admitting that; it was and still is the worst experience I've ever been through.
After MC #2, I truly expected the world to implode and that I'd end up needing psychological help. The 'benefit' of foresight though (as if there could be any benefit to this), is that I was expecting the worst after effects to play themselves out. And as such, I put a few strategies into place. The first was taking myself straight off Facebook. Ignorance is indeed, bliss. I instructed DH not to tell me ANYTHING, and after the meltdowns he's witnessed over the last few months, he was happy to go with it.
Secondly, I have avoided baby and/or pregnancy talk of any kind. At work, people know not to discuss it around me, and if it happens to come up, the subject is swiftly dropped or redirected by one of my colleagues. (I'm lucky, I know!) The other thing that makes me wonder is the anti depressants I'm on. If they are producing this feeling of almost-normality then they must be a wonder drug, and I wish I hadn't been so bloody minded after MC #1 and just given myself a helping hand rather than suffer all those months of abject misery.
Although I am enjoying this 'normal' feeling, I know that the minute we make the decision to start TTC again in earnest, I'm probably going to turn into crazy lady again. For now, that decision is on the back burner, and I think I need to take care of myself and make sure I'm psychologically steady before I do it to myself again. Plus the thought of being pregnant utterly terrifies me at the moment.
Plodding on.
Monday, 25 November 2013
Tuesday, 12 November 2013
Blood testing...
So yesterday I finally got in to get my bloods tested. I'm still not sure this will achieve anything given the uselessness of my doctor. I fully expect the bloods to come back 'normal', even if they're not, simply because there'll be nobody at my doctors who can accurately interpret them.
Added to this, my incompetent doctor (who incidentally doesn't understand the difference between a counsellor and a mental health nurse), actually somehow managed to order the wrong blood tests for me yesterday, so I had to tell the nurse taking my bloods exactly what I needed to be tested for.
Cue a phone call from my doctor's surgery last night telling me that they hadn't taken enough bloods and I would need to go back for some more. So, drum roll please, this is what I am (supposedly) being tested for, though it's anyones guess what will actually come back:
Cardiolipin antibodies
Hba1c
Lupus
Thromophilia
Thyroid
I don't know whether there's any more I should be having or whether this is a good starting point? I also do't know where I should go after this should I get the ' normal' results, or, as my doc likes to put it, ' no further action'.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I've been wanting for some time to put down in posts the blogs that I read regularly and that have really helped me through the last few months.
www.babyhopeful.com is one such blog that I found through Twitter, which highlights the trials and tribulations of trying to conceive, as well as dealing with miscarriage and infertility issues. There's also some hugely informative posts about such things as sperm morphology which I have found invaluable. It's also been good for me to be able to read about the emotions and feelings associated with what I, and so many others have been through, and to know that I'm most certainly not alone.
There are so many other blog posts I'd love to give a shout out to, but will be seeking their permission before I do so.
Added to this, my incompetent doctor (who incidentally doesn't understand the difference between a counsellor and a mental health nurse), actually somehow managed to order the wrong blood tests for me yesterday, so I had to tell the nurse taking my bloods exactly what I needed to be tested for.
Cue a phone call from my doctor's surgery last night telling me that they hadn't taken enough bloods and I would need to go back for some more. So, drum roll please, this is what I am (supposedly) being tested for, though it's anyones guess what will actually come back:
Cardiolipin antibodies
Hba1c
Lupus
Thromophilia
Thyroid
I don't know whether there's any more I should be having or whether this is a good starting point? I also do't know where I should go after this should I get the ' normal' results, or, as my doc likes to put it, ' no further action'.
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
I've been wanting for some time to put down in posts the blogs that I read regularly and that have really helped me through the last few months.
www.babyhopeful.com is one such blog that I found through Twitter, which highlights the trials and tribulations of trying to conceive, as well as dealing with miscarriage and infertility issues. There's also some hugely informative posts about such things as sperm morphology which I have found invaluable. It's also been good for me to be able to read about the emotions and feelings associated with what I, and so many others have been through, and to know that I'm most certainly not alone.
There are so many other blog posts I'd love to give a shout out to, but will be seeking their permission before I do so.
Monday, 4 November 2013
My pregnant best friend
So, um, yeah. One of my closest, best friends is pregnant.
This is not just any friend. This friend is my DD's godmother. She was one of my bridesmaids. She was the one who came with me to the scan that revealed my first MMC in February. She was one of the very few people who sat with me while I spewed out the horrible truth about how I really felt, who came over to my house just to sit with me, who would pull me away from situations where I was faced with a pregnant lady, who would really listen and get me to breathe and talk me out of my moments of madness. She told me she didn't want to try for a baby until I was pregnant again because she didn't want to hurt me any more than I was hurting already. Of course, I told her not to be ridiculous, and I remember a few months ago, she texted me to tell me that she and her OH were thinking of trying for a baby and she would understand if I couldn't speak to her any more (I mean, this was how bad she must have thought I was coping to even suggest that).
Fast forward a couple of months. I found out I was pregnant again in August. Naturally, she is one of the few people I tell in real life. She was overjoyed, relieved even, because she too, was pregnant, just a few weeks ahead of me, and she didn't know how the hell she was going to tell me. We have a few weeks where neither of us dare to believe it's happening. She's terrified because she has seen what could potentially happen, I'm terrified because I know first hand what can happen. And deep down, there's that niggling voice saying 'There's no way the both of you are going to get out of this okay, and it's going to DESTROY your friendship'.
Her scan was 2 weeks ahead of mine. She texted me to tell me she was fine and she'd been put a week ahead of her dates. And then the gut wrenching, sick feeling again. You know what happened the next week. I texted her and she came straight round, sobbing. We sat and cried together. She told me that she wanted me to be a big part of her baby's life, but she would understand if I had to stop seeing her, or if not, I had to tell her if things were too difficult for me and she would keep away until I felt stronger. Which would be okay, you think.
But here's the problem. This is the friend who, on finding out I was pregnant with DD, was so excited that she collected a big box of gifts and clothes that she gave to me when I was 8 weeks pregnant (ahhh, the ignorance of innocence!)She was the friend who would sit with me eagerly talking babies and getting involved in everything to do with the pregnancy. When DD was born, she would come round and help me (I was and still am not naturally maternal, though she undoubtedly is). She would even take DD for a walk in her pushchair while I rested. As DD has gotten older, she's gotten increasingly close to her Auntie GG, who comes round to see her and play with her and read her stories. If there's anyone I wouldn't have minded getting pregnant, it was her.
That was until all this happened. I feel awful saying it because I love her to bits, and truly, deep down inside I am happy for her. I can sense her pulling away. Not to be nasty, I know, but because I know that she too can sense that being around her hurts me. She texts my mother to ask after me mostly, occasionally DH. Sometimes she will text me but often waits until I text her, which I'm finding it harder and harder to do.
I want to be there to support her like she supported me. I want to get excited for her, I want to ask after her scans, I want her to be able to talk to me about her symptoms and her feelings and everything, but I just can't. I can't face it, and I just feel like the shittiest, most horrible person. I miss her. I know that I could call any time and she would be there but something stops me. I don't know what the answer is to any of this.
Perhaps there is none. I just know that this feeling won't go away, and I really really want it to.
This is not just any friend. This friend is my DD's godmother. She was one of my bridesmaids. She was the one who came with me to the scan that revealed my first MMC in February. She was one of the very few people who sat with me while I spewed out the horrible truth about how I really felt, who came over to my house just to sit with me, who would pull me away from situations where I was faced with a pregnant lady, who would really listen and get me to breathe and talk me out of my moments of madness. She told me she didn't want to try for a baby until I was pregnant again because she didn't want to hurt me any more than I was hurting already. Of course, I told her not to be ridiculous, and I remember a few months ago, she texted me to tell me that she and her OH were thinking of trying for a baby and she would understand if I couldn't speak to her any more (I mean, this was how bad she must have thought I was coping to even suggest that).
Fast forward a couple of months. I found out I was pregnant again in August. Naturally, she is one of the few people I tell in real life. She was overjoyed, relieved even, because she too, was pregnant, just a few weeks ahead of me, and she didn't know how the hell she was going to tell me. We have a few weeks where neither of us dare to believe it's happening. She's terrified because she has seen what could potentially happen, I'm terrified because I know first hand what can happen. And deep down, there's that niggling voice saying 'There's no way the both of you are going to get out of this okay, and it's going to DESTROY your friendship'.
Her scan was 2 weeks ahead of mine. She texted me to tell me she was fine and she'd been put a week ahead of her dates. And then the gut wrenching, sick feeling again. You know what happened the next week. I texted her and she came straight round, sobbing. We sat and cried together. She told me that she wanted me to be a big part of her baby's life, but she would understand if I had to stop seeing her, or if not, I had to tell her if things were too difficult for me and she would keep away until I felt stronger. Which would be okay, you think.
But here's the problem. This is the friend who, on finding out I was pregnant with DD, was so excited that she collected a big box of gifts and clothes that she gave to me when I was 8 weeks pregnant (ahhh, the ignorance of innocence!)She was the friend who would sit with me eagerly talking babies and getting involved in everything to do with the pregnancy. When DD was born, she would come round and help me (I was and still am not naturally maternal, though she undoubtedly is). She would even take DD for a walk in her pushchair while I rested. As DD has gotten older, she's gotten increasingly close to her Auntie GG, who comes round to see her and play with her and read her stories. If there's anyone I wouldn't have minded getting pregnant, it was her.
That was until all this happened. I feel awful saying it because I love her to bits, and truly, deep down inside I am happy for her. I can sense her pulling away. Not to be nasty, I know, but because I know that she too can sense that being around her hurts me. She texts my mother to ask after me mostly, occasionally DH. Sometimes she will text me but often waits until I text her, which I'm finding it harder and harder to do.
I want to be there to support her like she supported me. I want to get excited for her, I want to ask after her scans, I want her to be able to talk to me about her symptoms and her feelings and everything, but I just can't. I can't face it, and I just feel like the shittiest, most horrible person. I miss her. I know that I could call any time and she would be there but something stops me. I don't know what the answer is to any of this.
Perhaps there is none. I just know that this feeling won't go away, and I really really want it to.
Thursday, 24 October 2013
Shit happens
I feel like i need to check in. So much has happened since I last wrote:
I went back to work.
I managed to get anti depressants from the doc, which i've been taking for the last 2 weeks.
I've lost 3 pounds.
I have blood tests booked, although i'm holding out no hope that they will find anything to explain why this has happened twice.
I'm not sure what to write other than i'm still here, putting one foot in front of the other.
Although i have moments of happiness, and im getting on with life, it feels like everything is a shade duller than it was before, like my innocence, my feeling that good things happen to good people, has been snatched away. Life just ain't like that. Shit happens...and it doesnt matter whether you're a good person or whether you're a mass murderer. The concept of karma, getting what you deserve, none of it makes sense to me any more...
I know people turn to cliches at times like this e.g 'God only gives you what you can handle', like i must be a really strong person or whatever, for dealingwith this shit twice. I'm not strong. It coud have been anybody. But it just randomly happens to be me.
I'm really struggling with this. It's changed my world view, my beliefs. Everything.
I went back to work.
I managed to get anti depressants from the doc, which i've been taking for the last 2 weeks.
I've lost 3 pounds.
I have blood tests booked, although i'm holding out no hope that they will find anything to explain why this has happened twice.
I'm not sure what to write other than i'm still here, putting one foot in front of the other.
Although i have moments of happiness, and im getting on with life, it feels like everything is a shade duller than it was before, like my innocence, my feeling that good things happen to good people, has been snatched away. Life just ain't like that. Shit happens...and it doesnt matter whether you're a good person or whether you're a mass murderer. The concept of karma, getting what you deserve, none of it makes sense to me any more...
I know people turn to cliches at times like this e.g 'God only gives you what you can handle', like i must be a really strong person or whatever, for dealingwith this shit twice. I'm not strong. It coud have been anybody. But it just randomly happens to be me.
I'm really struggling with this. It's changed my world view, my beliefs. Everything.
Monday, 7 October 2013
Statistics
Google has dredged up some interesting statistics. Bear with me:
Chance of being involved in an air crash: 1 in 11 million
Chance of dying in an air crash: 1 in 29 million
Chance of getting 5 and the bonus on the National Lottery: 1 in 2.3 million
Chance of a miscarriage in any pregnancy: 1 in 4
Chance of 2 consecutive miscarriages: 1 in 25
Chance of 3 consecutive miscarriages: 1% (don't ask me why this wasn't a 1 in whatever)
I'd like to start by saying I hate flying. (Stick with me on this, I am getting to the point) When I tell people this, they either fervently agree with me or start spewing the statistics, ahh you have more chance of being knocked over in the street etc etc. When you look at the statistics there, you'd be forgiven for thinking that it would be near enough IMPOSSIBLE to be involved in a plane crash. But people do.
Let's look at the National Lottery now. People are quite willing to part with cash knowing full well it is IMPOSSIBLE to win. Okay, maybe not IMPOSSIBLE but let's be honest, it isn't likely. But people do win.
Now to a more common statistic. Miscarriage. Now most women who have had more than one pregnancy will have experienced this- anyone who hasn't has been unbelievably lucky. Statistics reassure most women that after one, they are pretty safe, with the rate for 2 in a row dropping considerably.
Thinking back to my brief conversation with a consultant on Thursday, I was told that the likelihood of me having another miscarriage straight after this was only 1% (i'm no mathematician but i imagine this percentage would represent quite a number of women nationally per year, at least into the hundreds, perhaps more).
Perhaps i'm being particularly obtuse here, but statistics mean absolutely nothing here do they? In simple terms, these things either happen to you or they don't. Chances and probabilities don't even come into it. So i will continue to avoid flying, cos some poor sod will end up on a doomed flight ( and why wouldn't it be me?) and continue to play the lottery (cos it works both ways).
And the next pregnancy...well i'm just not sure yet. At the minute it feels a little like playing a game of Russian roulette with my life. I know the odds are with me, but someone has got to be in that 1%.
Chance of being involved in an air crash: 1 in 11 million
Chance of dying in an air crash: 1 in 29 million
Chance of getting 5 and the bonus on the National Lottery: 1 in 2.3 million
Chance of a miscarriage in any pregnancy: 1 in 4
Chance of 2 consecutive miscarriages: 1 in 25
Chance of 3 consecutive miscarriages: 1% (don't ask me why this wasn't a 1 in whatever)
I'd like to start by saying I hate flying. (Stick with me on this, I am getting to the point) When I tell people this, they either fervently agree with me or start spewing the statistics, ahh you have more chance of being knocked over in the street etc etc. When you look at the statistics there, you'd be forgiven for thinking that it would be near enough IMPOSSIBLE to be involved in a plane crash. But people do.
Let's look at the National Lottery now. People are quite willing to part with cash knowing full well it is IMPOSSIBLE to win. Okay, maybe not IMPOSSIBLE but let's be honest, it isn't likely. But people do win.
Now to a more common statistic. Miscarriage. Now most women who have had more than one pregnancy will have experienced this- anyone who hasn't has been unbelievably lucky. Statistics reassure most women that after one, they are pretty safe, with the rate for 2 in a row dropping considerably.
Thinking back to my brief conversation with a consultant on Thursday, I was told that the likelihood of me having another miscarriage straight after this was only 1% (i'm no mathematician but i imagine this percentage would represent quite a number of women nationally per year, at least into the hundreds, perhaps more).
Perhaps i'm being particularly obtuse here, but statistics mean absolutely nothing here do they? In simple terms, these things either happen to you or they don't. Chances and probabilities don't even come into it. So i will continue to avoid flying, cos some poor sod will end up on a doomed flight ( and why wouldn't it be me?) and continue to play the lottery (cos it works both ways).
And the next pregnancy...well i'm just not sure yet. At the minute it feels a little like playing a game of Russian roulette with my life. I know the odds are with me, but someone has got to be in that 1%.
Friday, 4 October 2013
My 2nd ERPC and an interesting revelation.
I woke up yesterday morning not at all worried about my ERPC but rather the days, weeks and months that are to follow. What is a simple, painless operation when compared to the horrible emotional pain of the future? My first ERPC I was absolutely terrified. I'd never been under general anaesthetic before and the thought of never waking up again crossed my mind a few times. After the operation, I joked with the nurses that I'd like them to come and put me to sleep every night! What a wonder of modern medicine that stuff is- absolutely awesome.
After that first ERPC though, I was naive to what was to follow, and at that point I still had feelings of hope that I'd be pregnant again fairly soon and that this was just an anomaly, something that every woman goes through. Granted, I was upset, but the relief I felt once the operation was over and the ambivalent feelings I had immediately afterwards made me think that it wouldn't take me long to get over it- how wrong I was. A second consecutive miscarriage actually blows all that out of the water. I'm not stupid enough to think that, just because I feel okayish at the moment, that it's going to be like that in 2- 3 months time. I'm terrified of going back to that anxious and depressing time I was stuck in before.
Before I went down to theatre, I had several visitors- nurses, an anaesthetist, a registrar and a consultant. The registrar had said to me that I would be able to have blood tests given the circumstances of my miscarriages. But when the consultant who would perform the operation came down to me, she seemed confused as to why I would want the tests- 'it will probably be okay next time', and reminding me that the NHS don't usually test until there have been 3 consecutive miscarriages. Now anyone who has had a miscarriage will know that even one is enough to destroy you if you let it, 2 is unbearable- I wouldn't even like to imagine what 3 or more would do to a woman. I think the NHS do a fantastic job. For the second time, I could not fault them yesterday. I was treated with courtesy and care and looked after very well. But I think this whole policy on miscarriages just isn't right. To me 'probably' means nothing.
I have felt a lot groggier and 'spaced out' after this ERPC than the previous one, where I was back on my feet in no time. I woke up yesterday in the recovery room next to a little boy who was just coming round. I remember bursting into tears for this poor kid, saw the shadows of his parents moving into the room, then blacked out again. I woke up on the ward where my husband was waiting for me, had the best cup of tea I've ever had in my life, forced down a sandwich and was ready to go. The registrar came up and told me that there was a slight complication in that there was a 'laceration' on my womb which had been stitched up and that I would need antibiotics and a suppository to ensure it didn't get infected. I was assured that I wouldn't be affected by it, and it wouldn't jeopardise a future pregnancy.
After that first ERPC though, I was naive to what was to follow, and at that point I still had feelings of hope that I'd be pregnant again fairly soon and that this was just an anomaly, something that every woman goes through. Granted, I was upset, but the relief I felt once the operation was over and the ambivalent feelings I had immediately afterwards made me think that it wouldn't take me long to get over it- how wrong I was. A second consecutive miscarriage actually blows all that out of the water. I'm not stupid enough to think that, just because I feel okayish at the moment, that it's going to be like that in 2- 3 months time. I'm terrified of going back to that anxious and depressing time I was stuck in before.
Before I went down to theatre, I had several visitors- nurses, an anaesthetist, a registrar and a consultant. The registrar had said to me that I would be able to have blood tests given the circumstances of my miscarriages. But when the consultant who would perform the operation came down to me, she seemed confused as to why I would want the tests- 'it will probably be okay next time', and reminding me that the NHS don't usually test until there have been 3 consecutive miscarriages. Now anyone who has had a miscarriage will know that even one is enough to destroy you if you let it, 2 is unbearable- I wouldn't even like to imagine what 3 or more would do to a woman. I think the NHS do a fantastic job. For the second time, I could not fault them yesterday. I was treated with courtesy and care and looked after very well. But I think this whole policy on miscarriages just isn't right. To me 'probably' means nothing.
I have felt a lot groggier and 'spaced out' after this ERPC than the previous one, where I was back on my feet in no time. I woke up yesterday in the recovery room next to a little boy who was just coming round. I remember bursting into tears for this poor kid, saw the shadows of his parents moving into the room, then blacked out again. I woke up on the ward where my husband was waiting for me, had the best cup of tea I've ever had in my life, forced down a sandwich and was ready to go. The registrar came up and told me that there was a slight complication in that there was a 'laceration' on my womb which had been stitched up and that I would need antibiotics and a suppository to ensure it didn't get infected. I was assured that I wouldn't be affected by it, and it wouldn't jeopardise a future pregnancy.
Wednesday, 2 October 2013
Another MMC...
Title says it all.
I haven't posted for a while as I'd found out I was pregnant on the 15th August and didn't want to jinx the pregnancy by talking about it. That plan clearly didn't work.
Due to a possible progesterone problem, I'd been given progesterone pessaries to use up to 12 weeks. I had a scan at 5 weeks, everything good. Then a scan at 6 weeks, everything good, and a heartbeat! DH didn't want me to have another scan until my 12 week dating scan, but last week I started to feel very anxious and ill at ease and didn't feel like I wanted to wait the 3 weeks til my dating scan. With little J, I had a very sicky pregnancy. She really knocked me about, but this pregnancy, like the last, was sickness and nausea free. Despite people telling me 'every pregnancy is different', something didnt sit quite right.
However, I had been bouyed up by the statistics- it's hugely unlikely to have 2 miscarriages in a row. So off I went yesterday to a private clinic where i was told the bad news. I knew by their silence that it wasn't good. Two sonographers and a consultant confirmed what had happened and I just lay there and sobbed. My first thoughts were, 'how the hell am I going to get through this again?'
The last few months have been the worst of my life. The month that I chilled out, thought perhaps I'd stick with one child, was the month I got pregnant. And now I've lost it again. Why do that to me? If i'm not capable of having another child, then why did my body play another cruel trick on me and land me straight back to square one? Not just that, but by a cruel twist of fate, a very very close friend of mine is just a couple of weeks ahead of what I would have been, having a normal, healthy pregnancy. For the second time, I am forced to sit and watch.
I've been to the EPAU at my local hospital today and luckily I can get in for an ERPC tomorrow morning. Last time, I was terrified of going under general anaesthetic. This time, I think I will be grateful for the oblivion it provides. And I also know that the ERPC process is less painful and traumatic than the emotional recovery in the months that follow. I fear for myself. I had begun to take strides towards recovery, was beginning to enjoy life again. I was finding some meaning from what had been an horrific experience. What the fuck am I supposed to learn from having it happen twice? What kind of a 'message' am I supposed to take from this, other than a big 'fuck you' from the universe? I guess one thing I have learned is that hope is dangerous.
Another thing that plays on my mind is the number of coincidences:
My last MMC was discovered on 1st March.
This MMC was discovered on 1st October.
My last MMC, the dating scan was 2 months exactly after discovering I was pregnant. Same with this one. My last MMC, the dating scan was due to take place when I would be exactly 12+2- so was this one- on the same day of the week at exactly the same time.
There is no longer the urge to be pregnant again straight away, like there was after the last MMC. I think it would be incredibly foolish to do this when I don't know for certain there isn't something wrong. Given the fact that I was under the care of a fertility clinic, it was hinted today that the consultant may decide to do some tests. I hope this is the case as I need answers. If not, we will have a long hard think about whether it warrants private testing or whether we should accept our lot and be grateful for the wonderful, healthy daughter that we have.
This time, I announced on Facebook; some might question this decision, but I did it for several reasons. People that know usually think twice about what they say to people. Being able to talk about it openly actually helps me. People have messaged me privately to tell me that they, too, have been in the same situation.
I know no-one in real life (until now) that had had 2 miscarriages in a row. Again, i'm faced with people that don't say ANYTHING. I try not to get upset about that, I know that sometimes people don't know what to say. But once again I've been overwhelmed by the care shown to me by people I don't know, alongside my best friends. For those who have a problem with the sharing of my experiences- this isn't all about you. Be glad.
I will update you all when I have more to tell. Thank you for your support. You can't know how much it means, and you've kept me afloat.
I haven't posted for a while as I'd found out I was pregnant on the 15th August and didn't want to jinx the pregnancy by talking about it. That plan clearly didn't work.
Due to a possible progesterone problem, I'd been given progesterone pessaries to use up to 12 weeks. I had a scan at 5 weeks, everything good. Then a scan at 6 weeks, everything good, and a heartbeat! DH didn't want me to have another scan until my 12 week dating scan, but last week I started to feel very anxious and ill at ease and didn't feel like I wanted to wait the 3 weeks til my dating scan. With little J, I had a very sicky pregnancy. She really knocked me about, but this pregnancy, like the last, was sickness and nausea free. Despite people telling me 'every pregnancy is different', something didnt sit quite right.
However, I had been bouyed up by the statistics- it's hugely unlikely to have 2 miscarriages in a row. So off I went yesterday to a private clinic where i was told the bad news. I knew by their silence that it wasn't good. Two sonographers and a consultant confirmed what had happened and I just lay there and sobbed. My first thoughts were, 'how the hell am I going to get through this again?'
The last few months have been the worst of my life. The month that I chilled out, thought perhaps I'd stick with one child, was the month I got pregnant. And now I've lost it again. Why do that to me? If i'm not capable of having another child, then why did my body play another cruel trick on me and land me straight back to square one? Not just that, but by a cruel twist of fate, a very very close friend of mine is just a couple of weeks ahead of what I would have been, having a normal, healthy pregnancy. For the second time, I am forced to sit and watch.
I've been to the EPAU at my local hospital today and luckily I can get in for an ERPC tomorrow morning. Last time, I was terrified of going under general anaesthetic. This time, I think I will be grateful for the oblivion it provides. And I also know that the ERPC process is less painful and traumatic than the emotional recovery in the months that follow. I fear for myself. I had begun to take strides towards recovery, was beginning to enjoy life again. I was finding some meaning from what had been an horrific experience. What the fuck am I supposed to learn from having it happen twice? What kind of a 'message' am I supposed to take from this, other than a big 'fuck you' from the universe? I guess one thing I have learned is that hope is dangerous.
Another thing that plays on my mind is the number of coincidences:
My last MMC was discovered on 1st March.
This MMC was discovered on 1st October.
My last MMC, the dating scan was 2 months exactly after discovering I was pregnant. Same with this one. My last MMC, the dating scan was due to take place when I would be exactly 12+2- so was this one- on the same day of the week at exactly the same time.
There is no longer the urge to be pregnant again straight away, like there was after the last MMC. I think it would be incredibly foolish to do this when I don't know for certain there isn't something wrong. Given the fact that I was under the care of a fertility clinic, it was hinted today that the consultant may decide to do some tests. I hope this is the case as I need answers. If not, we will have a long hard think about whether it warrants private testing or whether we should accept our lot and be grateful for the wonderful, healthy daughter that we have.
This time, I announced on Facebook; some might question this decision, but I did it for several reasons. People that know usually think twice about what they say to people. Being able to talk about it openly actually helps me. People have messaged me privately to tell me that they, too, have been in the same situation.
I know no-one in real life (until now) that had had 2 miscarriages in a row. Again, i'm faced with people that don't say ANYTHING. I try not to get upset about that, I know that sometimes people don't know what to say. But once again I've been overwhelmed by the care shown to me by people I don't know, alongside my best friends. For those who have a problem with the sharing of my experiences- this isn't all about you. Be glad.
I will update you all when I have more to tell. Thank you for your support. You can't know how much it means, and you've kept me afloat.
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