Losing you

Ashamed,

Helpless,

Broken,

This is how I felt.

Frustration,

Guilt,

Pain,

This is what I lived.

Cried,

Cursed,

Hid,

This is how I reacted.

Why me?

Why now?

Why at all?

This is what I asked.

I have failed,

I should have done it differently,

I am to blame,

This is what I convinced myself.

It wasn’t meant to be,

It’s not your fault,

At least it happened early,

This is what everyone said.

I was pregnant with number two,

I got to 8 weeks,

There was no heartbeat,

This is what happened.

It was with huge excitement that Mark, Lottie and I attended my dating scan on 26 November 2019. I was starting to show and felt pregnant in all respects. I was ready, I was excited and I was prepared (or so I thought). We had been here before, we knew the drill, there was nothing to worry about (or so I thought). It started off well. There it was. A little baby moving inside the sack on the screen. I could now believe it. It was real. It was happening (or so I thought).

What followed was something you never prepare yourself for. I’m talking about the fateful six words, “I’m sorry. There is no heartbeat”. You read the articles, you hear the stories, but until it happens to you, you never consider it being your reality. Upon receipt of the news, I was shocked. I didn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe it. This wasn’t part of the plan.

We then endured what felt like the longest 7 days of my life while we had to wait for our subsequent scan. The ride on the emotional rollercoaster continued. Sadness, frustration, guilt and anticipation were on daily rotation and in that order. Always an optimist, I held onto hope that my pregnancy was a miracle. Every time I went to the toilet I prayed that there would be no blood. Every time I looked in the mirror I convinced myself my tummy was getting bigger and every article on google favourable towards my situation, I would chose to read.

The reality was that my blood tests confirmed that my hormones had dropped, my symptoms were slowly subsiding and most of my endless google searches regarding my situation indicated I was about to have a miscarriage. But until I knew for certain, I refused to believe it.

We attended our second scan on 3 December 2019. It was confirmed once and for all. We were not in the 5%, there was still no heartbeat, I was definitely going to miscarry. Although initially disheartened by the news, things changed reasonably quickly.

Relief for clarity,

Gratitude for what I have,

Comfort in knowing I could,

This is how I felt.

Endless support,

Personal growth,

Compassion for others,

This is what I gained.

Talked,

Planned,

Moved on,

This is how I reacted.

When will I miscarry?

How long will it take?

When can we start trying again?

This is what I asked.

It was out of my control,

It wasn’t meant to be,

It will happen when the time is right,

This is what I convinced myself.

You are not alone,

Most woman experience this,

You will get pregnant again soon,

This is what everyone said.

I miscarried naturally on 6 December 2019.

I survived it,

Life carried on,

This is what happened.

They say that time heals everything. For me, this rings true when it comes to my experience with miscarriage. What once seemed incomprehensibly unfair, eventually was seen as something that was not meant to have been, what once seemed to have been my failing, eventually was seen as something completely out of my control and what once caused me immense sadness, eventually was an important reminder that I am extremely lucky to have what I have already.

This has been one of life’s curveballs. They will continue to confront us throughout life. We cannot control that, however, what we can control is how we deal with them, who we call on for support and what we decide to take from them.