I don’t even know where to begin writing this, and I apologise if it’s a little blunt or angry… I guess I’ll just continue where the last blog left off.
As planned we went back to the hospital on Monday to see Dr Jenny. I’d had no bleeding over the weekend, which although possibly a good sign, I still had my doubts that this was going to end well.
First we saw a new midwife. I say new, she’s new to us. We’ve just not met her at the Tommy’s clinic before. She took us into a clinic room to do our scan before we saw Jenny. There was no TV monitor in this room, but she had turned the screen slightly so we could still see everything.
Initially I just lay there with my eyes closed. Already feeling I knew what it would it show. Eventually I turned to watch, again eyes fixed to the screen searching for the flicker… I couldn’t see it. There was a sac, but no flicker. It felt like ages between me noticing there was no heartbeat before she confirmed it to me herself.
There were those words again, “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat”
Here comes the storm
I just nodded. I knew. I knew this was going to happen last week. I felt mad that I had told the nurse I was concerned that the size and slow heartbeat would lead to miscarriage. I felt mad that she didn’t even acknowledge I could be right before trying to give some ‘hopeful’ reasons. I felt mad that she didn’t accept my concerns as an expert patient, from instinct and experience, rather than just general anxiety. I felt mad that had I not gone up to the Tommy’s clinic I would have had to wait until Thursday to find this out.
Jenny came in to confirm there was no heartbeat, then we were taken down to the Early Pregnancy Unit to plan what happens next.
I knew straight away I wasn’t going to have the surgical option. I chose that after the first miscarriage because it was the quickest option, I could be in and out with no hanging around. My local hospital offer a Manual Vacuum Aspiration (MVA). It was so traumatic, it feels like some medieval torture. I was awake and given gas and air while some doctor suctioned out the contents of my womb. The gas and air did nothing and it was the most uncomfortable procedure I’ve ever had done. Sorry to be so dark and graphic with the description but that moment is still so vivid in my mind, it actually gave me nightmares for days afterwards.
Hence why I have chosen to go down the medical management route this time. I don’t trust that my body will start the process in its own, it didn’t last time. So I’m going to get the tablets and pessaries and spend the day on the ward, basically in labour. I’ve done that before. It’s much more pleasant, even if it is more painful.
The nurse on the ward did say she would refer us to the recurrent miscarriage team, which we are so grateful for. I have no idea if we’ll even get seen as technically we don’t meet the national criteria. Current protocol is you have to have had three consecutive miscarriages before you can be referred for further investigations. This is my third consecutive loss, however Guy was stillborn, not miscarried. So this loss could put us back at one, waiting for two more early losses. Hopefully they’ll be nice and see us, even if they just have advice for us.
Bad things happen to good people
It’s safe to say we feel extremely miffed off at the Universe. Why are we being so unlucky? Why don’t we deserve to have a successful pregnancy and take home our own baby? Why are we being punished for doing things the right way? Dating, buying a house, getting married before having children. We should have just been more careless in our twenties. The universe clearly accepts ‘whoopsie’ babies over carefully planned, much desired babies. I’ll be damned if I can’t have my husband’s children. I’ll have someone else carry them if that’s what it takes.
We are angry, frustrated and disappointed. We don’t feel sad, we have no sadness left in us. There’s no tears to cry because there is nothing new to cry about. It’s the same old shit, the same grief, the same story. We don’t have the energy to sit and be miserable.
I’ve also come to the conclusion that current statistics are wrong. If one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage, why have we been unlucky 3/3 times? I’m pretty sure they have this backwards. It should be: One in four pregnancies will be successful. By this rule then next time surly has to be our time, right?
This was supposed to be our third time lucky, and lightening isn’t supposed to strike twice let alone three times.
Out of all of this, I am so grateful for Louise my Tommy’s midwife and the rest of the team on the research floor at Manchester. Their work on Stillbirth and experience from the Rainbow clinic means they have so much understanding for the anxious, pestering pregnant women like me. They acknowledge the worries and anxiety and accept how you feel without trying to make excuses or give you cliches in an effort to be hopeful and positive. They listen, they empathise and they personalise everyone’s care to meet their needs.
Hopefully our journey doesn’t end here. As much as each loss strips us a little more of our strength and hope to keep going, we refuse to give up yet. I saw a quote the other day that stuck with me, not sure who it’s by:
Quitters don’t win and winners don’t quit.
It’s not game over yet!
I’m so sorry, I know from experience that these words are not very helpful so I hope I can give you some other words and hope. I can’t begin to imagine what you are going through, and I’m so glad that your last words on this post is “It’s not game over yet”
I lost 6 babies, but 23 weeks with my 7th. I nevwr ever gave up and i believe this is my rainbow. it’s never gets easier but it’s becomes a common feeling. We become numb to the pain. I will have you in my prayers. Keep fighting, have hope and never give up. All my love
Hi Nia. Thank you for your kind message, Im so sorry to hear about all your losses. Why is life so cruel to make one person endure more than their fair share? Sending you and your little rainbow so much love. xxxx
Thank you for replying. I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers and sending baby dust. Xx
I’m so Cross at the universe for you beaut, sending you all the love I can, just wish I was closer. If you ever want to meet up we’ll sort something ❤❤❤ xx
I won’t let you give up. If I’m not giving up you aren’t either Sam! I love you and Martin and I love your children all of them… Fleeting, precious flickers to beloved Guy.
You are strong and brave and are a wonderful mother.
Love you,
Emma xx
I’m so so sorry, life is so cruel. Breaks my heart to read this, sending you lots of love xx
I’m so sorry too and know exactly how you feel – your words took me right back to the little dot with a heartbeat that was ticking away safely on the scan screen one day and gone the next – and you just don’t know where to search because your mindset is that you were having a child and suddenly you’re not. It’s so hard. I lost seven. I thought I would never have another child – I already had a little boy so I couldn’t understand why my body was miscarrying.
My daughter is five now, she came after I asked my doctor to refer me to Professor Quenby who researches miscarriage, particularly where immunity cells in the womb may be killing off the foetus. I took Prednisolone for a few weeks when I knew I was pregnant and I held onto her.
There is wriggle room for being referred – a few of my pregnancies never got as far as registering on a test because I lost them earlier and earlier. Don’t let the pregnancy test thing stand in your way.
For now, be kind to yourself. It’s not your fault. Vxx
Hi Vicky. I’ms so sorry to hear about all your losses, and very happy you got your rainbow. I keep reminding myself that people have had more losses than us and eventually get their rainbow, I just can’t comprehend how to keep fighting through more and more losses. We are being referred to the recurrent miscarriage team, so will see what comes of that. If that fails, I might ask my GP to refer us to the new Tommy’s miscarriage centre. For now, we still have a little fight left in us to keep trying. I thought this loss would break me, but its much easier than I expected. Maybe because nothing is worse than losing Guy right now? I don’t know. Thank you for your kind message, sending you lots of love. xxxx
When you do have a baby – and there is no doubt in my mind that you will have a baby – that baby will be so so so so lucky to have you as a mother.
I hope that thought alone will help you keep on fighting.
All Love,
XoXo
Aw thank you Hannah. That’s really lovely. Xxxxx
Hi Sam I have been following your journey through a friend and I just want to say that you seem like such an amazing person. I have been through a fertility battle and whilst that was tough I don’t think it compares to the sadness you have had to experience. I got my miracle eventually and I really hope you do too. As a comment above says that baby will be extremely lucky to be so loved by you all. I wish you so much strength and hope. I also congratulate you for your beautiful writing of a subject that is often hidden become it’s too difficult to talk about. Your journey will help others in a similar situation and give them the strength to go on.
Thank you so much for your lovely words. So grateful to anyone who has found my blog and taken the time to read it. I’m so happy you got your little miracle. Hopefully ours isn’t far away. Xxx
Hi Samantha, I just found your blog and have spent the evening reading it. I can relate to so much that you’ve said. After a two year long infertility battle I got pregnant and had a horrific experience and eventually lost the baby at 10 weeks. That was in May. We got pregnant again 4 months later and were so hopeful. We lost that baby 3 weeks ago at 7 weeks. I am beyond devastated. To have struggled to conceive and then have 2babies taken from us makes me feel like it will never happen for us. Thank you for your blog, it has been comforting to know that so many are going through the same thing.
Hi Aoife. I’m so sorry to hear of your losses. It’s just heartbreaking. Especially to had so much difficulty to get those much wanted babies. I really hope you get your happy ending. It’s so easy to want to give up, but please keep that little bit of hope in your heart. We have to keep faith that we will get there. I’m happy you have found my blog and it has provided a little comfort. That’s all I set out to do when I started this. Your never alone on this journey. Sending much love and strength to you. Xxxx
I found your blog through an instagram search of recurrent miscarriages. Thank you for your honesty and vulnerability. I too am faced with the storm of waiting, waiting to find out if we’ve lost our 4th pregnancy. My last miscarriage was the day after you wrote this post and it remains so raw when I take the time to reflect. Anger is my biggest enemy right now and it is a constant battle to remain human and to get out of bed and live. I don’t want to be that person who is always angry at the world and can’t fully live and recognize the good. I know right now it is so dark and anger is normal but I want to be able to say that I will keep fighting no matter what happens in the coming weeks. You are not alone in your grief and I sincerely hope your journey leads to the baby you’ve been fighting so hard for. Your words have been a safe place for me today in the storm so thank you for taking the time and sharing your story.
I’m so sorry to hear you too have had multiple pregnancy losses. I’m really glad that you’ve been able to find my blog and it has helped you when you really needed it. That’s exactly what I set out to do by sharing our journey, so it makes me really happy to know I’ve been able to help someone who walks this difficult path. I think it’s perfectly acceptable to feel angry, one loss is hard, but multiple losses is beyond cruel and unfair. It’s exactly how I felt after this miscarriage, just anger. Thank you so much for getting in touch and sharing your story. Wishing you all the very best for your rainbow journey. Xxx