I can’t remember if I’ve already mentioned that I’m a media volunteer for The Miscarriage Association. It basically means if any journalist wants to do a story or something, they’ll contact MA who will then contact me if I’m suitable for it. I’ve only done 2 newspaper interviews – one small piece for the Scottish Sun, and one for the Saturday Herald (out this Saturday if there’s any local folks reading!)
(if it appears online I’ll pop a link on this weekend)
Anyway, the journalist doing the interview asked me what difference – if any – the miscarriages have made to my life. I’d never really thought about that before…Sure, I’m more aware of miscarriages and the struggles of trying to conceive. I know all the statistics, and about all the delightful stages of our cervical mucus, but I didn’t think she wanted to stick that in her article!
I told her that it had made my marriage stronger – in our 2 years of marriage we’ve went through more shit than most do in a lifetime and we’re still here making each other laugh and pulling through it all together.
Later on I thought some more about it.
I sat on the train home and thought about the past few years, and thought about the people on here that I’ve spoke to and read about, and do you know what I realised? How bloody strong are we all? How resilient are we? I’ve became a much stronger person since my losses – I seem to be able to bounce back more than I ever thought possible. We’ve been knocked down so many times and we keep getting back up. We’ve got that end goal in sight and we’re all fighting so hard to get it. I know it’s maybe cheesy but we should all be proud of ourselves. I never thought I would be able to get through all these losses.. I never thought I would be able to keep going, but yeah..I can. And I will!
I got the phone call on Thursday morning that my levels had dropped. I’d miscarried.
They asked me to come in for another blood test. Why? Why do I need to continue coming in to the pregnancy ward to be told the same thing every 2 days until my levels reach below 5. My hospital isn’t even local so the whole thing was pissing me off. I told her I wouldn’t be coming back in unless I was still bleeding in 2 weeks. This isn’t my first time at the rodeo.
Sorry – that sounds heartless. I’m just done in.
My question now is, where the hell do I go from here? They’ve finally agreed to give me progesterone after nearly a year of asking. Here in Scotland our healthcare and prescriptions are free which is of course excellent, but i think they can sometimes be a bit reluctant to prescribe things to people. They just continue to tell me “theres nothing wrong, just keep trying” but after this many losses, I think we deserve to explore some other avenues!
I’ve read some women who have had higher dose folic acid, HCG injections and progesterone pessaries… did anyone else have anything different? Im going to my next GP appointment armed with a notebook full of requests!!
We found out I was pregnant again on the 7th October.
Hubby and I just stared at each other. Were we really pregnant? Could we celebrate? Could we even be happy?
I’d say I was 60/40. 60% happy, 40% shitting myself. Considering our losses, I’m pretty chuffed with that ratio.
A few weeks passed and I over analysed every symptom.. or lack of. Were my boobs still sore? (hubbys squeeze test never failed!) Was that a cramp? Am I pooping a normal amount? (Yup it genuinely got to that stage)
Last Friday I was walking to meet Nikki after work and i felt…. something… in my underwear. I just knew it wasn’t right. I went to a toilet and there it was… blood.
It was brown, which I know is old blood blablabla, but that never helped! I rushed to EPAU who told me they could do nothing and to go home. “WHAT? How very fucking dare you?!” I genuinely couldn’t believe what they were telling me. We decided to trot on over to A&E and see what they could do. 5 hours later we left knowing that my HCG was 95 and I was either very early or miscarrying. So basically none the fucking wiser.
Saturday morning, Nikki calls EPAU again. The woman was an absolute saint. Agreed to see me on the Monday morning.
Sunday night comes, and so does the red blood. The little hope i had left was gone. I was in floods of tears yet again.
At EPAU the next morning, I was given a transvaginal scan (eugh) and bloods taken again. The nurse told me that my original levels were too low and to expect the worst.
So I go home, hubby brings in cookie dough ice cream (my second tub since Friday btw) and we lay in bed watching tv and crying. My phone rings and its the nurse. My levels have risen to 148. What. The. Fuck? Now she was telling me it was either VERY early, or it could be ectopic. She wanted me back in on Wed for more bloods. Back in limbo yet again. It’s been the worst part of it all. We’ve dealt with losses before, and theyre horrendous but we know how to get through them. The constant glimmers of hope are whats worse.
I passed what looked like tissue on Tuesday night and Wed morning. Ive had absolutely zero pain throughout everything (apart from just after the scan, but that was prob cos she was poking around in there). But my miscarriage.. if thats what it was.. was totally painless.
I’ve had my appointment today and now I’m waiting for my blood results. I guess I’m hoping for them to be lower, so we’ll have an answer. If she tells me they’ve risen again I don’t know what the hell I’ll do. I just want it to be over now.
I hate being pitied. People that tilt their head and lower their eyes if I ask them about their pregnancy. Like they’re afraid to show any kind of excitement incase I throw something at their glowing face.
I despise the “hang in there” and “it’ll happen eventually” comments. One colleague even jokingly said she was going to start a GoFund Me Page for my crushing infertility. (At least I hope she was fucking joking)
When I corrected her and told her I wasn’t actually struggling with infertility she was baffled and questioned “so what is wrong with you”?.. Well luckily for you it’s not my inability to control my temper or reward stupidity with a swift kick to the shin.
Listen, I totally appreciate people that sympathise or empathise with me. People that have genuine questions about miscarriages or the affects they’ve had on me. If you’re one of them then I have all the time in the world, but please do not bloody pity me. Please don’t think I am any less of a woman for not having a child. Please don’t think that I am so obsessed with getting pregnant that it’s the only thing I want to talk to you about. I’m a woman for fucks sake, compliment my hair or something.