23rd January 2014
7 weeks pregnant and my first scan
*Trigger warning for pregnancy loss, please read with care*
I don’t have any more diary posts to refer to from this point onwards but what happened will be forever etched into my memory.
I left work early with giddy excitement and drove to the clinic where I met my mum.
One of the nurses I knew well was scanning me, it would be a vaginal scan at 7 weeks pregnant, the plan was to confirm a viable pregnancy and then they would discharge me from their care on to the local community midwives. I’d already booked the appointment with my midwife for later that week and was really looking forward to meeting her and making it official.
I was quite used to internal ultrasound scans now so hopped on the bed and relaxed my legs into the accepted position. The room was so quiet and I held my breath waiting for confirmation that all was well,
But that reassurance never came.
The seconds expanded into minutes and the walls contracted in around me as the nurse adjusted the probe around to get a better picture, but I already knew something wasn’t right. She placed a hand on my knee and said “I’m sorry there’s no heartbeat”
I wanted to jump up off the couch and run as fast as I could away from that place, back to before I’d heard those words.
The nurse went on to say that baby was measuring just 2 days behind so it looked as though they’d died just days ago and I hadn’t realised.
How could I not know my baby had died?
I’d still been talking to them every day, playing them audio books every night and dreaming of our life together.
Surely I should have realised 😢
The nurse rang the Early Pregnancy Unit and made me an appointment the next day while I put my underwear and tights back on (that image is so clear in my mind, I wonder why my memory decided to hold onto that?)
My mum wanted to drive me home but I just wanted to retreat and hibernate and pretend it wasn’t happening. I drove myself home despite her protestations, got into my bed, buried myself under the covers and cried and cried.
I asked my mum to tell everyone what had happened as I couldn’t bear to say the words aloud, or even write the words down, it would have made it true and I couldn’t bear that.
That night I hugged my belly one last time and talked to my baby.
I often think about how my experience of loss may have differed because I was doing this without a partner. In many ways I think it was easier for me. All I wanted to do was cut myself off from the world. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for a partner in this situation, feeling cut off and unable to help, while also carrying the burden of their own grief too.
I know my parents and family grieved as well, and my friends were so supportive but I was able to be selfish in my grief. In the days that followed I’d spend hours doing nothing but blindly watching Miss Marple episodes while making jigsaw puzzles or colouring in, anything to keep my mind occupied with unimportant stuff.
I could be selfish in my grief as I had been selfish in my love and I didn’t have to worry about anyone else.
This story continues but for now I want to pause just there:
Most of you lovely readers who follow me on Instagram or who’ve read my profile will know how my story ends but there’s still so much that’s been written in between.
I’ll be continuing the story of my 1st baby and my 1st miscarriage in my next blog post but for those that don’t want to read please feel free to jump ahead (it’s important to protect yourself if you’re feeling vulnerable at the moment). I’ll be filling in the next part of my journey soon.
My stories of loss, longing and of trying for a baby on my own are so intertwined my posts will likely always contain an element of the three but I will try and keep the topics separate where possible to allow those following my my solo mother by choice Journey to jump ahead if needed and vice versa.
For tonight I’m thinking of all of you who’ve lost babies
Sending love to you all and blowing kisses to the night sky to all our babies gone too soon but loved so much ✨