Recently, a friend of mine posted this message on Facebook…
A baby born after a miscarriage or loss of a baby is referred to as a Rainbow baby. Today we remember all babies born sleeping, or we’ve carried but never met, those we’ve held but couldn’t take home, the ones that came home but didn’t stay. Make this your profile status if you or someone you know has suffered the loss of a baby. The majority won’t do it, because unlike cancer, miscarriage, still birth and sids is still a taboo subject. Break the silence. In memory of all angels too perfect for earth ❤😇 and all the babies that are born sleeping or don’t make it home. Hold finger down and copy and paste do not share!
It makes me sad that this type of thing is a taboo subject among many people. I definitely understand this – it is a painful time and for many people there is a huge feeling of shame and guilt. Having been through this loss, however, I feel like it could have been made easier if people were more willing to share. I am sharing our story in the hope that someone will take comfort from it and know that they are not alone.
Be warned that it is a long one!
My husband and I are church-goers and have a strong faith in God, so, in December 2012, when we started trying for a family, we felt optimistic and hopeful that God would bless us with a baby. Ultimately he did, but the journey was much more challenging than we expected.
At the end of February 2013, I missed a period and felt hopeful. A test confirmed we were pregnant. To be certain, I repeated the test three days later and visited the doctor. We were ecstatic! We decided to keep the news to ourselves for a little while.
Unfortunately, the excitement was not to last. At seven weeks, I had a bit of spotting over a weekend. Naturally, I was hugely worried. We called NHS Direct, who were very kind and sympathetic, but they could only say ‘it might be a miscarriage or it might be fine.’ They advised me to make an appointment with my GP, which I did first thing on Monday morning. Thankfully, she was excellent and efficient and got me an early appointment at the EPU (early pregnancy unit) the following day.
With a lot of trepidation and anxiety, hubby and I went for our early scan. I was full of fear that this would be the end, but felt that knowing one way or the other would be a relief. The whole process was massively disappointing. They could tell us nothing from the scan: there was an embryo but it was too small to see clearly and there was no visible heartbeat. This sounded like bad news to me, but they said that it could just be too early. They booked us in for a follow-up ultrasound two weeks later. In the meantime, I had to return to the hospital every few days for blood tests to check my hormone levels.
Those two weeks were some of the most challenging weeks of my life. Thankfully, my HOD was incredibly accommodating of my regular blood tests and appointments, so I was able to manage school without the additional worry of negotiating the time off. That time feels like a blur to me now though, as I went on a rollercoaster of incredible hope to crushing fear, whilst trying to maintain an outward appearance that nothing was going on.
When we finally were told that this pregnancy was not to be, it was almost a relief. The knowledge that I no longer had to fear that I had lost the baby was like a burden being lifted and I almost felt glad. This was so confusing – and short-lived! I was prepared to feel a sense of loss and to feel sad. I was not prepared for the crippling sense of guilt and shame. I was totally convinced it had to be my fault: I must have done something wrong, eaten the wrong thing; I must not be womanly enough to carry a baby – there was something wrong with my body; there must be something about me that would make me an unfit mother. The doubt. The guilt. It was crushing.
I was eight weeks and five days pregnant when they told me that I would miscarry. I was nine weeks and six days pregnant when I woke in the night to hideous pain in my tummy and heavy bleeding. After spending the night in hospital, we slept for most of the day, yet kept our dinner arrangements with friends that evening. It was like the whole thing was too shameful to discuss, so we carried on as normal. We told no one. This is my biggest regret.
Later, when we were honest with people about it, they felt sad that we felt unable to share our experience. It is difficult to explain that feeling of shame and guilt. It is difficult to discuss it.
As a teenager I was prone to depression and anxiety disorders, this felt like a relapse. In the months following the loss of our first baby, I was disengaged from myself. Outwardly, I went through the motions, going to work, socialising etc.; yet inwardly I felt guilt. Such guilt. Our sex life suffered as I felt unworthy and unattractive, believing my body to be unfeminine and damaged. This was pain as I had not known it.
Of course, as with many things, time heals. We began trying again in earnest several months after this and in December 2013 I fell pregnant again – this time, not realising it until a month later. I had a lighter period than usual, but did not suspect anything. In hindsight, I also had a heightened sense of smell at this time, a craving for scrambled eggs and was more emotional than usual. In the middle of January, I experienced some unusual pain in my stomach, and visited the doctor. They discovered I was pregnant but suspected that I was miscarrying again. This was upsetting, but less so than before as I hadn’t even realised I was pregnant.
A week later, I was out with my mum and my stomach began to hurt again. At home that evening, the pain grew steadily worse until I blacked out from it. Hubby was incredible that night; he arranged an out-of-hours hospital appointment in the middle of the night, and we went first to that appointment and then were referred to a bigger local hospital for further tests. Upon arrival at the second hospital, I was told my blood pressure was dangerously low. They confirmed the pregnancy again and admitted me so that they could take me for an ultrasound in the morning.
The following day, we discovered that this time we had an ectopic pregnancy (a pregnancy that develops outside of the womb). I was six weeks pregnant and this was incredibly dangerous so they wanted to operate as soon as possible. We were told that they would most likely remove a fallopian tube and possibly the ovary on that side too. Again, I felt like my body had failed me.
However, this time we leant on our family for support. We told them immediately, so my mum and my sister were there when I came back from surgery. Hubby shared the news with friends so that they could be praying for us. We felt better. We felt supported.
The surgeon told me that when they began the procedure, they discovered that the embryo had burst inside me and that the pain I had experienced was most likely due to that. There had been a lot of internal blood to clear, but they had managed to save my tubes and my ovaries. It felt like a blessing. It gave me hope that one day we could have children. It helped make the healing process from this loss much easier to bear.
Our journey was not yet over. We had to wait several months before trying again, allowing my body and mind time to heal. So from April 2014 to March 2015 we endured month after month of disappointment as we discovered time and again that we had not been successful.
On Maundy Thursday 2015, we finally had a positive test result. We were cautiously happy. We booked an early scan (you have a higher chance of having a second ectopic if you have already had one) and hoped and prayed. The incredible moment when we saw and heard our baby’s heartbeat at that scan was amazing. We shared the news with our parents and other close family a couple of weeks later, after a repeat scan.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t plain sailing from there. We had a further eight scans during the pregnancy – a total of ten! I had spotting and one incident of heavy bleeding; it turned out to be a bleed in the uterus lining. I had episodes of dizziness and fainting. Unusual cells were discovered on my cervix, which meant I also had to go for more unpleasant internal examinations. My PAPP-A count was low, which meant that there were potential blood flow issues with the baby that had to be checked too. After week 24, things got better, despite the baby remaining in breech position.
The delivery of our gorgeous boy was eventful too, as you can read in my previous blog entry.
That first moment of holding him when I came around was incredible. The journey to reach that moment was long, painful and heartbreaking. Yet, I know that we feel so much more blessed now than we ever could have if baby number 1 had made it. We are a better couple and have a stronger relationship. We love our rainbow baba so very much and feel like the luckiest parents in the world.
He is now six months old and is the happiest baby in the world!
akentmum 