Our Story of #MisCOURAGE
By Tina on 22nd August 2018
Approaching the due date of a miscarried baby
Being 18 weeks pregnant and facing a roller coaster of emotions while approaching our miscarried baby’s due date.
22nd August 2016 marks the date that our lost baby was due. Before we lost the baby, I had three scans due to complications, and on the second scan, I immediately fell in love with our soon to be son or daughter. I pictured a face; I anticipated the birthing experience, I’d decided what I’d do differently the second time around and excitedly started planning our lives.
We were looking for a new home and making all the plans in the world for Bubba’s arrival. At that moment, all roads were leading up to the 22nd of August, beyond that, all I could picture is our new baby in my arms and Nikki (my firstborn) having a little brother or sister.
That happiness was destroyed on 28th January 2016 when I miscarried the baby. How was I meant to get over this? Someone I love and have deeply connected with is gone, and I’ll never get to meet them and tell them. Feelings of guilt and anguish surrounded me – Why? What did I do wrong? Did I take on too much stress with my new business? Did I not eat well? Am I being punished? All these questions kept flying through my head and continued for a long time after that.
The week leading up to Bubba’s due-date was hell for us. I was fortunate to have fallen pregnant again, and at that time I was marking 18 weeks – so I should be happy and over the moon right? I was – I was overjoyed – but it didn’t take away the pain from the loss. I suffered from severe morning sickness throughout the whole pregnancy, and the constant anxiety from fearing another loss stayed with me until our second daughter, Milli was born.
A week before the due date, my body was struggling, and I felt very poorly. I found myself worrying about every little thing, and the thought of visiting the GP engulfed me with despair and anxiety as I feared I would once again hear the worst news. But I knew for the baby’s safety and mine; it was something I had to do.
Being checked over was a strange experience. Laying there in silence while the doctor moved the Doppler around for what seemed like an eternity. Before I could say anything, tears were streaming down my face, I wanted to speak, but no words came out. I lay in silence petrified while the familiar feelings of fear and hurt erupted inside my heart.
‘I can’t pick up a heartbeat; I will refer you to A&E for a scan’.
WHAT HAVE I JUST HEARD? Is she serious?
Before you know, I was silently crying my eyes out, and the walls were caving in. I was screaming on the inside, wanting to wake up from this nightmare and for someone to come and stop this hurt, but no one could hear me. My cries were trapped, and I couldn’t get any words out, and the hope I held onto for this pregnancy came crashing down.
My lovely brother-in-law took me to A&E, and I cried the whole way in silence, my neck was wet from all the tears that just wouldn’t stop. My mind was racing, and dark thoughts surrounded me – How could I have done this again? What did I do wrong? I should have forced myself to eat and drink better, and so the self-blame started all over again. Being pre-20 weeks meant I was treated through mainstream A&E and not referred to maternity.
The first thing they did was check for a heartbeat and lo and behold there it was, beating beautifully. Tears of fear quickly turned into tears of joy and relief of not having to take a journey through hell again. My husband took nearly two hours to get to me as he worked far away, this felt like the longest two hours of my life because I really needed him when the shit hit the fan, and I felt like life was ending all over again.
Thankfully I was dismissed a few days later, hydrated and much healthier than when I was admitted but there was still an emotional rollercoaster to face once I was back home.
On the 22nd, we all went to the temple to say a little prayer for our angel up in heaven, and we also bought a hydrangea to remember our angel. My dad found a beautiful pot to house the plant, and we found the perfect place for it in the middle of our garden. It blossoms pink and blue flowers which are perfect as we never knew if it was a boy or a girl that we lost. I have an excellent view of it from our kitchen, the dining room table and my studio – it brings some comfort knowing our bubba is still with us, watching over us.
I often wonder how life would have been if Bubba had made it and get really sad because we lost bubs, but then the emotions would see-saw because Milli wouldn’t be here if bubs survived and I can’t imagine my world without my loud, energetic little bubble Milli. She’s a blessing from up above, and I know through her, the lost baby will always be close to our hearts.
To read more #misCOURAGE stories from people who have been affected by pregnancy complications or loss please click here.