Saturday 16th April 2011 – I’d been looking forward to that date for ages. I should have been going for a girlie weekend away – driving up to my best friend’s house to stay over with another of my friends. I’d not had a night away from Monkey for a long time, let alone a girlie break – I was really excited.
I was also just over 10 weeks pregnant with ‘Bump #2’ – aka Poppy was due on Remembrance Sunday. I’d been for my booking in appointment with the Midwife on the Thursday and clutched by Blue folder with pride. I was obviously even more excited about being pregnant, even though it meant I wouldn’t be drinking over the weekend, but it had taken longer than expected to be in this ‘state’ so I didn’t mind. Hell, I’d spent my own Hen weekend being the only one not drinking =D with Monkey well on his way.
So I got up in the morning, got my bags ready, Daddy P was catching up on his sleep and I was due to leave just after lunch. Just after 10am all those plans fell apart, I’d started bleeding, really faint, but it still scared the life out of me. I rang NHS Direct for advice, 4 hours later and still no clinical response, I rang out of hours instead. They gave me ‘it is almost certainly ok’ line but ring your GP on Monday morning to arrange an emergency scan, and go straight to A&E if things get worse. Well, there was no way I was going away for the weekend now. My friends tried to persuade me, but I knew I’d be anxious all the time and just wanting to be at home.
The bleeding didn’t stop, so I was on the phone to the GP first thing on the Monday morning and was booked in for an early scan on the Wednesday. Silly me, when we arrived for the scan I was asked for a wee sample, I thought OK, strange, didn’t do that last time, must want to check for infection or something. Dooh – first thing they said was ‘Ok, the test has confirmed the pregnancy’. Oh right. Reality. The only problem was, I just didn’t feel pregnant any more. No sore boobs, no feeling sick, just very stressed out and upset with the continual bleeding. Anyway, as soon as I saw the scan screen I knew something was wrong – we’d had Monkey’s first scan at the same time so I had an idea of what we should have seen. There was no heartbeat – had I got my dates wrong? Anyone who knows me, know’s that I’m attached to my diary and don’t make mistake with dates. The sack was a funny shape, not great and sized at 6 weeks, so they told me there was still a chance that all was ok – I didn’t believe it for a minute, but Daddy P held on to the faint chance that all would still be ok.
We were told to come back in another week, which was awful, every day the bleeding got a little bit worse, I dreaded visiting the toilet. I was drained. We went back a week later, I did a wee sample – it was red. They didn’t check it, I didn’t look at the scan screen, I didn’t need to. There would be no ‘Poppy’. The problem was then that I hadn’t bled enough – great, was it possible to bleed more? Anyway, I was offered ‘options’, at this stage I just wanted ‘it’ to be over, I had had enough. I opted for surgical intervention. As it was going to be a Bank Holiday for the Royal Wedding I couldn’t have the procedure in my preferred hospital, and was booked in at another hospital for Friday 29th April. No baby, no royal wedding for me.
The morning before, I was bleeding really badly and was advised to go straight to my normal hospital, I felt so weak and pretty much passed out on the A&E nurse. I was transferred to the ward after a lengthy ‘wait and see how this progresses’ and put on a drip. I spent the day on the ward, on the drip, being told to walk around the ward – it would help with any final bleeding. There was nowhere to hide, nowhere to cry, it was a truly awful day. I was allowed home that evening, no need for surgical procedure, all gone, end of story.
I did get to watch the Royal Wedding, with Daddy P and my beautiful Monkey.
I’m not unique, I’m not special, unfortunately I know a lot of people who have had different experiences of ‘miscarriage’ but all with the same result. I was 43 when it happened, I knew that for me, that was my last chance for another baby. It took me a long time to accept that Monkey made 3 and that was us, even longer to let go of the cot. But, the day I finally decided ‘enough is enough’ and let go of that dream, I felt so much better. I still get upset about it, even writing this. I spend Remembrance Sunday thinking about what might have been, and give my son an extra big hug.
I have the most wonderful, funny, naughty, little Monkey. He IS unique, he IS special and I love him very much.