Miscarriage – it’s all over

I’ve deleted this first sentence so many times.  How do I begin to explain my miscarriage?

Yesterday, at 7 weeks pregnant, Matt and I went for a private, early reassurance scan at Hello Baby in Cheltenham.  After many months of disappointment I needed to know everything was ok.  I think Matt secretly thought it was a bit pointless, he’s always the optimist and was confident everything was ok.  I’d been looking forward to the appointment since I made it a week ago but yesterday morning I just didn’t feel pregnant, my boobs didn’t hurt, my skin was perfectly clear, I had no nausea – but maybe I was just lucky.  I did have back pains and Matt reassured me that I had these with Florence.

We arrived just before 10am and the smiley receptionist made us a Tassimo coffee, Matt and I passed comment at how nice the coffee was and the setting in general.  I completed a form with my basic information on and soon after we were called into a large room with a sofa, a couch/bed and the computer used for scanning.  The sonographer smiled and asked me to hop up on the bed.  I tucked the clean, white towel into my leggings and the jelly was squirted on to my belly.  It made a racket as the bottle was almost empty and I had visions of it spraying all over the place.

The wand was passed over the jelly and some pressure was applied which made my very full bladder a little painful but it would all be worth it for the first glimpses of our baby.  More pressure was applied and I could see a very small, grey area which didn’t look anything like I expected.  At 7wks you should see the very beginnings of arms and legs.  There were no arms or legs.  The sonographer muttered that it seemed like a very early pregnancy and asked if I would mind having an internal scan. I agreed and popped to the toilet to empty my bladder and that’s when it began.  I wiped and there, on the tissue, was blood.  Bright red blood.  I stood there, shut my eyes and said the smallest of prayers “please don’t let this be happening”.  I was in a daze as I walked back into the room where Matt and the sonographer were waiting.  Matt could see I looked upset, and I just blurted out “I don’t think you can do the scan as I am bleeding”.  The sonographer immediately tilted her head in that sympathetic way and said “oh sweetheart”.  We agreed that we would carry on and see what was happening.

The internal scan revealed that gestational sac barely measured 3.5 weeks. My heart sank and I knew what was happening. Despite the sonographers best efforts to try and convince me it was just an early pregnancy, I knew it wasn’t.  I knew the dates didn’t work out compared to when I got the positive tests.  She even said the sac had moved between the external and the internal scan.  My baby shouldn’t move, it should be embedded, growing.

I was referred to my GP and was seen by them within half an hour of leaving the clinic.  My doctor was much more pragmatic and told me what to expect if I were to miscarry.  He also booked me a scan at the Early Pregnant Unit at Gloucester Royal Hospital for the next morning (today).  Following the appointment I collected Florence from nursery and we went home, we laid on my bed and I cried.  Florence wondered what was wrong but just kept cuddling and kissing me.

The bleeding had slowed during the evening but at 3am it was back in force and I knew the worst was still to come.  My back felt like I was in labour and I dashed to the toilet frequently.

I made the decision not to go to the EPU as I knew what had happened.  I didn’t want to go through yesterday all over again.  I didn’t want them poking around while I am losing our baby.

I’ve had so many messages of support that it confirms that I made the right decision to share our previously happy news so early on.  I would hate to be suffering this in silence.  I know Matt has confided in people at work and I think that’s good – it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up.  I also know of so many pregnancies that have failed after the 12 week mark that I don’t think there is ever a ‘safe’ time to share.  I hope me writing this has helped not only me come to terms with it but also others who have, are or will go through the same thing.

Que Sera Sera!

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