Misconceptions

Misconceptions

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I unfollowed someone on Instagram yesterday because of her pregnancy announcement. 

In my defense, I never blocked her so you know – progress. 

We used to work together and it’s not that I’m unhappy for her – I just don’t want to see the picture updates. I don’t want to see the scans, the bumps, the pram, the clothes she’s buying. I don’t want to see them. Not yet. 

I felt kind of down for a few minutes – Ok 10 maybe – and then do you know what? 

I was okay.  

Totally fine actually (I still didn’t follow her again, but that’s neither here nor there). But I think that’s okay, I think that’s normal. I won’t sit here and lie to you that it’s easy to hear of pregnancies, or to look at people’s social media photos because it’s not easy. I don’t think it ever will be. But it also doesn’t make me feel the way it used to, and that has to be a good thing doesn’t it? 

It’s okay to be a little selfish at times, and it’s ok to not always be nice to everyone. You need to do what makes you feel good. Or what makes you feel even just a little bit better. 

I know I’ve earned the right to be a little selfish sometimes. Fuck it. Fuck everyone else’s opinions. Do what you want to do. 

 

28..01.2018 

Over the past few years I’ve encountered a fair amount of misconceptions, or judgments relating to my miscarriages and I thought I’d share some. My top 5:  

  1. I hate being around children 
  1. I hate pregnant people 
  1. I’m too fragile to hear about your own pregnancy 
  1. There must be something wrong with me – I probably just can’t carry boys. 
  1. I’m not upset anymore. It was ages ago, and it wasn’t even a baby. 

So these things come up a lot. A lot. It’s hard to break the stigma around miscarriage and I know not everyone means to be nasty or hurtful. A lot of people just don’t know what to say, or are too scared to ask so they make their own judgements. But if you’re curious – here’s my answers: 

 

  1. No, I happen to love children. I’m studying childcare, and more often than not, I find them more fun than adults. Yes babies are hard, of course they are – but that doesn’t mean I hate being around them. 
  1. I do not hate pregnant people.  But imagine you losing your wife or husband or you recently went through a horrendous break up – seeing other people happy and in love would have an affect on you for a little while – you’d be a little upset. It’s normal. Same with me and pregnant people. After a loss it’s a little difficult. I’m not the devil. I’m human and I’m flawed. Just like you. 
  1. I am not an idiot. I’m more than aware that people get pregnant. I’ve been dealing with it for a long time – you can tell me. I might not be 100% happy all the time, and I may even ignore your social media pages for a little while but, I’m  more than capable of hearing about it and I’ll deal with it in my own way. And I can be happy for you. 
  1. Please do not try guess what is wrong with me. Nurses don’t know. Doctors don’t know. Teams of specialists don’t know. You certainly don’t know. Yes maybe your auntie “couldn’t carry boys ” (although how they ever found that is beyond me) but I’m not your auntie. I’ve had miscarriages. I’m now struggling to fall pregnant. There is nothing wrong with me. I am like millions of other women around the world. I’m  normal.  
  1. Ok so just don’t. Don’t ever tell me it wasn’t a baby. Don’t tell me how to feel. Don’t tell me how long I can feel sad. Don’t assume anything. I lost my children and I can never change that. But your assumptions and your judgments don’t help anything. If you want to know anything – just ask me. 

Anyone else deal with something similar? I know I’m not the only one!

 

 

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Time

Time

It’s been a while since I’ve wrote. If I feel like I’m constantly being negative then I don’t always write. I guess I should though; this is the place for honest thoughts afterall, but I seem to talk myself out of it. I’m working on it. 

It’s a few months shy of the 3 year mark. 3 years ‘trying’ is a long time. It’s not only the miscarriages that I struggle with –  it’s the time. The time it takes to fall pregnant, the time it takes for your body to realise it’s not ready for that baby yet, then the time it takes to physically recover, and of course, the time it takes to emotionally recover. 

Just one pregnancy can take up the most of your year and you haven’t even had the chance to give birth yet. It’s a lot to deal with. 

It’s frustrating, it’s draining, it’s heart breaking, it’s stressful, it’s exhausting, it’s annoying, it’s upsetting… the list goes on and on… 

On my bad days I go through the “What if” stage. What if I never had a miscarriage? What would my life be like now? What if my husband gets fed up and leaves me for someone that can give him a baby?  

Is this an official stage of grief? Stage 3 – crazy irrational thoughts. If it’s not, it should be. We need to know its normal to be crazy sometimes.  And of course I know it’s irrational, my husband isn’t with me solely for my (in)ability to have children, but I’ll be honest; I’m not always rational Ok? I worry. I get upset. I get stressed. Stress is bad for baby making. Is it? Oh silly me, I didn’t realise. Well I’ll just stop being stressed then shall I? Easy! (While we’re on that subject – I’m pretty certain women in War zones still get pregnant, and Hell – they’re a lot more stressed than I am!) 

I guess in a way the actual losses have got easier over time; there’s a process you go through, you learn to cope with that side of things. You tell yourself there must have been a reason – you might not always know the reason – but there still is one. You try rationalise it in your head. 

But this. How do you get over always trying and failing when all you’re ever doing is trying and failing? 

M.R.I

M.R.I

My mum lost her hearing in one of her ears a few years ago and the doctors never knew what caused it. She was booked in for an M.R.I scan, but ended up not going through with it saying she felt too frightened and claustrophobic. I told her she was being ridiculous, and that if it was going to help well, she should just bloody do it! 

Mere hours after my own M.R.I, I phoned to apologise to her. I understood exactly what she meant. 

The nurses told me to remove all my jewellery, piercings and hair pins. Nothing metal left in my body, and seeing as I have no plates or bionic limbs, that should’ve been pretty simple right? Not quite. I have an intimate piercing that is quite literally impossible to remove on my own. I sheepishly explained this and was told that I may need to reschedule as the piercings can “explode” and rip out whatever part of the body it’s attached to. (yeah, she actually said “rip”). Then another nurse came, handed me a magnet and told me to hold it against my piercing to see if it was magnetised. It wasn’t, so she said I would be safe to go in and there would be nothing to worry about. Sorted then! Then why were exploding vaginas all I could think about? 

I put on my gown and answered some basic health questions, then was warned that the IV buscopan that I was about to receive might make my vision blurred so not to panic about blindness or anything, and that on rare occasions,  some tattoos can heat excessively during an MRI, and if this happens I should push the buzzer and they’ll take me out (I have about 27 tattoos so this wasn’t particularly pleasant news). So now all I can think about it is losing my sight, having exploding genitals and burning from the inside out. Great. What a morning. 

I lay on the bed and 2 boards were placed on top of me and fastened to the bed so that my arms were trapped by my side, rendering me unable to move. So when my vaginas flying around in tiny pieces, I won’t be able to throw my hands out and grab anything to salvage! 

I was told I’d be lying under the machine for an hour. An HOUR! I thought this would take a few minutes! As I started to be moved in, I immediately knew what my mum meant – it was horrendous. I felt totally trapped and couldn’t see anything around me apart from white, clinical plastic. They gave me earphones, but it was impossible to concentrate on the awful music over the hum and beeps and murmurs of the machine. 

About 30mins in, I needed to sneeze. Shit. I’m not supposed to move in here right? It came and went twice, until I couldn’t stop it anymore. Damn, not one but, two sneezes! I tried in vain to stifle them, which only resulted in my eyes watering. I could feel a small steady stream of tears rolling down my face. I couldn’t life my arm to wipe it. Uh-oh, now my nose was running. Snotters slowly dripped down my face. Oh my God, it’s going in my mouth, it’s going in my mouth! I turned my head ever so slightly to try veer the snotters off course. Result! They bypassed my mouth and continued rolling down my chin and on to my neck. Crap, there goes my eyes again. More tears were coming, followed by even more snotters. My face was a soggy mess and I couldn’t do anything about it. 

Finally, the murmurs stopped and I started to feel myself move backwards. The nurses appeared and unstrapped the boards. I could finally lift my hands and I immediately wiped my wet, snotter soaked face. It was over.  

Or was it? Was that actually the easy part? 

Miscarriage & Media

Miscarriage & Media

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 you know what? I bloody can. And I bloody will!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pity

Pity

I hate being pitied. People that tilt their head and lower their eyes if I ask about their pregnancy. Like they’re afraid to show any kind of excitement incase I throw something at their round glowing faces.

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 people’s sheer stupidity with a swift kick to the shin.

Look, I totally appreciate people that sympathise or empathise with me. People that have genuine questions about miscarriages or the affects they can have. 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.

Apologies

Apologies

I haven’t wrote in SO long. I don’t even really have much of an excuse. I was on holiday in Spain which excuses me for 9 days, but outside that.. Nope.Nothing.

It’s coming up to two years of trying for a baby (I came off contraception in October 2014) and to be honest I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of symptom tracking and taking supplements and peeing on sticks. I’ve had enough of feeling disappointed and feeling like a failure every month. I’ve had enough of trying for a baby and never getting to have one.

No Tea for Me.

No Tea for Me.

I’ve been absent from WordPress again the past few weeks. I’m the worst blogger, I really am.

I took on board everyone’s advice last post and purchased raspberry leaf tea capsules. I had to do the capsule thing; I’m really not a huge tea drinker. Believe it or not, not everyone in the UK loves a cuppa!

I also tried the “conceive plus” fertility gel, but I have to admit I wasn’t a huge fan. It wasn’t particularly messy or icky like I feared.. it just kind of made it.. I don’t know; different. We ended up just using it after I *cough* finished * which worked out best for us. Maybe I’m just not a lube-y kinda girl.

Anyone experience side effects from the supplements? Just curious.

I’m now on day 30, of a normal 32 day cycle. (Last month was 33) and feeling pretty normal. I’ve been crazy gassy (TMI) much to my husband’s delight and I’ve been a little emotional – but I’m always pretty emotional to be honest.

Anyway. I’ll update you all with any phantom symptoms/late periods/eventual menstruation.

Animal Mineral Vegetable (and some lube)

Animal Mineral Vegetable (and some lube)

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I’ve made a lot of changes to my diet the past few months.

I rarely eat red meat, possibly once or twice a month.

Switched from minced beef to quorn (far nicer by the way)

I’ll have a few glasses of wine when I’m on my period but no other alcohol the rest of the month

I’ve cut down massively on dairy and sugar.

I take vitamin c, vitamin d, calcium and folic acid.

This month I’m trying more. I’ve ordered a fertility lube. Now I’ve NEVER used lube… maybe it’s just me, but I don’t think it’s as common place here in the UK as it is in America. I bought “conceive” plus. Has anyone used it and can share some stories? Has it helped? Is it icky?

A friend of mine also recommended cassava root. Has anyone had experience with this? I’ve read people who want twins take it… now don’t get me wrong, I’d LOVE a child but the idea of twins terrifies me!!

Anyone got other recommendations or things they take or things they do differently now? I’d be interested to hear them.

Insecurities

Insecurities

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Chapter 27 – 1.6.2016

It hasn’t been a good week.

I’ve been having this recurring dream that I’m no longer married. I know that at some point I was, but for reasons that I never find out – my husband has left me.

After some Googling, I discovered that (the short meaning) is I’m insecure about something.

Insecure?! Jeez I’d never have thought that….

Don’t get me wrong, in my relationship I’m very happy (obviously I’m missing the baby, but everything else is great) but in myself, I can be horribly insecure.

I’ve dyed my hair twice in the last week and every time I do I end up in floods of tears thinking I look hideous. Ugly.

I take my make up off at night and notice my blemishes so much more.

Taking my make up off makes my hair look worse too.

My husband tells me I’m the most beautiful person he’s seen and he doesn’t understand why I feel like this sometimes.

Am I insecure because I don’t look like the tanned, contoured girls on Instagram?

Am I insecure because my parents marriage ended horribly and I’m terrified it’ll happen to mine?

I don’t know. I don’t know if I’m insecure because I’ve failed to keep a baby, or failed to get pregnant as quick as other women. I’m so hard on myself sometimes and I know it’s not healthy, but at the same time I just can’t shake these insecurities.