I was washing up today and had the TV on in the kitchen, minding my own – when This Morning came on with a discussion of miscarriages. I stopped in my tracks and listened to the lady speaking, bravely sharing the pain she had experienced, all in the name of raising awareness. 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, but how many other women do you know of who have suffered? I bet not very many – for whatever reason it’s such a taboo thing to talk about and even now as I write this I am uncertain as to whether I will click the “publish” button and share this with you all – I want to, but I fear it coming across as attention seeking, or self pitying and I rarely do serious so it feels out of my comfort zone, but I had my baby taken from me too once.
Mr spider and I hadn’t planned to fall pregnant – infact, it could not have come at a more difficult time – babies had never crossed our mind before, despite being together for 5 years already, we had never even discussed them – I was a newly turned 20 year old working out what I wanted to do with my life and Mr Spider was very much into his expensive hobbies and we lived for the weekend, besides I don’t even think we would have known what to do with a small person who would rely entirely upon us!
That all changed one autumn evening when I realised mother nature hadn’t reared her bitch of a head – I couldn’t even remember when she last did come to think of it, but pregnant? Nah! Amongst my group of friends, pregnancy was something to avoid so we would always reassure one another that the way to make the witch appear was to do a pregnancy test – reverse psychology if you like – obviously it would come back negative and the search would continue. Firstly, I would like to point out that it is nothing short of terrifying purchasing a stick to pee on when you look about 12 years old at most (I either have stunted growth or a gene I will appreciate when I am in my fifties – I can’t ever look my age at all) and secondly I’m not going to lie about how apprehensive I felt that it may come back positive. Stranger things have happened.
Home we go – mainly to recover from the elderly man serving me taking 3 bloody hours to get the security case off the test and then he greeted me a gem of a question, “Would you like a bag?” Would I like a bag? Would I? Yes! And if you aren’t going to give me one for my pee stick, I’ll take one to put over my head to hide the utter embarrassment of this ordeal. Oh how I would love to serve him viagra pills one day. But that is unlikely, as I have moved 2 hours away, he was so old he has probably passed away, and I’m also a stay at home mum with a distinct lack of viagra contraband to sell. However, given different circumstances…
I did the test and felt physically sick – I rested it on the side of the bath and waited 3 minutes for it to reveal our fate. Now was not the time for us to start a family was the only thought racing through my mind – one minute down – can’t peek yet. I’d get really fat, I didn’t want to get fat – 2 minutes down, not long until I can look now. Do I even like babies? I don’t think I do. I like dogs. 3 minutes is up – let’s take a look. Oh my God, I am pregnant. I’m pregnant and Baby, I already love you.
It hit me hard. As soon as I saw the line signalling a positive test I loved my baby and whatever was wrong with our lives or not particularly baby friendly, we could fix. It’s funny how your feelings can change so dramatically and so quickly, but the love took over. I had life growing in my uterus and I instantly wanted to protect them and love then and wow, a baby.
Mr Spider was as shocked as I but we really felt like it had happened for a reason and we would do everything we could to get ready for this small person to come and be with us – we’d move, we’d save, we’d grow up and have a future, the three of us.
Now people always say not to get carried away in the early days, but when you are so in love and feel like you have been given an olive branch to make your life a better one in the form of a little bundle, it’s hard not to. We would sit up all night and talk about baby names, pushchairs and how we would tell our families – at the time it was our little secret and it felt beyond amazing. We adored them already and knew their name be it a girl or a boy, I was even having some sickness, we would tell everyone soon but for now the baby was all ours – our future and our hopes.
One morning I woke up and didn’t feel well at all – must be pregnancy related I thought – this was a brand new experience for me but I had read no end of complaints of sickness and sore backs in those few weeks I had been frantically searching the Web looking for constant reassurance I was growing our child safely and well. I decided to take a bath to see if a bit of a soak would make me feel better but unfortunately this is when our goodbyes began. I had started to bleed.
I called Mr Spider and called the Dr’s surgery who agreed to see me. I sat opposite my childhood GP, sobbing through absolute fear that there wouldn’t be a baby when she reassured me that bleeding was very, very common in pregnancy – scary but common. I think it’s important to remember this if you are reading as my very last intention is to scare anyone. I have many friends who have bled in pregnancy and have gone on to have beautiful babies, but either way it’s not something to ignore. My Dr didn’t ignore me and sent me to the Pregnancy assessment unit at the hospital – this filled us with a little hope, but deep down I knew.
I don’t and won’t go into the details of what happened here as I just can’t find a nice way to write it – it was clinical and quite cold but even now the pain has been healed from being blessed enough to have two beautiful babies, I just feel bad for my unborn fetus that they had to be treated in that way – as a fetus. I appreciate there is a medical job to do and the nurses must see the situation regularly but it was unique to us – to us this was our baby and for the weeks we had known about them our hearts were filled with excitement and love. I had been told the words “I’m sorry, your miscarrying and you are losing your pregnancy” and I felt like my heart had been ripped out – I had never met this life growing inside me, I had never even considered that I might like to be pregnant but I knew them and I knew that I was going to miss them so, so much.
It was hard for Mr Spider too, his baby had gone aswell and he had to remain strong for me – the biggest kick in the teeth was the physical pain which now having been in labour with two children I know feels very similar. Why did I have to physically hurt when emotionally I was battered – it’s such a awful thing to try and process – one minute you are pregnant, and the next you aren’t. We cried a lot the night we got home. No talk of baby names or pushchairs. No conversation at all.
We told our friends and family after it had happened and we knew they sent their love and support but no one talks about it, I can’t blame them – I’m not really sure how you address something like that, but I knew I wanted to talk about it – my baby existed once, I was proud of that, but never felt I could say. Comments you receive can hurt – “you can try again” – well, I didn’t want to. I wanted that baby. My baby. “Atleast you didn’t lose it later in pregnancy” – as awful as that would have been, pain is pain. Dreams are dreams. Love is love. They are your child from the start and are stolen from you. No matter when a woman miscarries it is devastating. I have never felt that is a fair thing to say. Saying goodbye to someone before you have even met them should never be an option.
I believe everything happens for a reason and 5 years on I thank that little baby for coming into our lives and waking us up to what we really wanted – a family. Whilst I am no longer sad I hold the experience very close to my heart think of it often – the pain was raw for a very long time, until I looked into the eyes of my first born baby actually, when I met him I cried with joy and a little bit of sadness that we would never be blessed to see the face of our one taken from us.
Never let anyone dismiss your feelings if you have miscarried, and never give up hope that you’ll hold your own baby one day. If you want to talk about it – talk! We need to address this so much more. This is my first time in doing so as I have never felt able to, but why shouldn’t I?
Your a Mummy from the moment you conceive, so please never feel anything less. 💙