Ulla C, UK

First time pregnant

I was pregnant for the first time and I didn’t understand how it would feel to know for real that there was now a little being growing inside me.  For most of my years, I’d never really wanted children, but we’d decided we were going to start a family NEXT year.  But I was pregnant barely a month after we’d agreed and discussed it.  I was happy about it.  A whole new person was beginning to develop inside MY body!  I followed its progress as each week passed, looking up how big it was now on websites and books.  I ‘watched it grow’ from a bunch of cells to a blob to a little alien.  It was an amazing journey.  Each day of nausea and dizziness reminded me of what was going on inside my belly.  The embarrassment of forgetfulness, the discomfort of clothes a little tighter but not quite enough to show a bump, each small step was a joy for me.  The thought that one day a new little person will be in our life who we can love unconditionally and grow together as a family, brought excitement and I was happy beyond compare.  We told almost everyone the happy news!

Yes there were financial concerns – very much so!  Drastic mental and financial changes were beginning to take place, our life as we knew it needed some physical adjustments and we were not prepared for any of it.  This miracle of life growing inside me was not planned but was nonetheless very welcome.

I considered keeping a diary, but didn’t.  Instead I researched and researched and researched.  I looked up every little symptom to make sure it was a normal one.   I compared every feeling and sensation with what was considered ok for that stage of development, checking that things are all healthy and normal.

When things started going wrong

In my 11th week my symptoms started changing and I called my doctor and asked him what he thinks.  The internet said it’s probably fine, most people had no problems following a yellow discharge.  Sources said there were all kinds of ‘funny fluids coming out of pregnant women’ and this was probably normal.  My doctor said the same thing and said if I’m concerned I could go to the early pregnancy unit at the hospital, this was Thursday.  I decided not to do anything about it, as I wasn’t bleeding and I wasn’t cramping.  I decided I was a worry wart and I should let it sort itself out.

By Saturday I was worried.  I knew that brown means old blood – I knew that some women bleed during their pregnancy and they still have a normal childbirth and all goes well.  I also knew that some women bleed and they lose their baby.  There is simply no way of knowing which way it would go.  I chose to monitor at home it and if it goes pink or red I’ll go to the hospital.  It seemed a bit extreme to ask all the friends we had over that day to leave and I didn’t want to appear to be a drama queen.  I had cramps that day, but I had cramps almost every day since I was became pregnant – in fact it’s one of the reasons I did a pregnancy test in the first place.  It was the type of cramp that felt like I was going to get my period but just never did, so they didn’t really worry me.  I’d had no problems for over 10 weeks and the symptoms had been more or less the same all along:  cramps, dizziness, nausea, all overridden by euphoria.

By the evening it turned pink and I call the NHS helpline.  They said I should monitor it and go to A&E if it gets worse.  It did.  By 11 o clock that evening we went to A&E, my first ever visit to an Accident and Emergency unit.  I was terrified on many levels.  They checked my blood pressure, temperature, heart rate and saw me within 15 minutes.  After a speculum examination they said that my cervix is still closed and that at that time it appeared all is ok.  A scan on a low quality portable machine could only see a small gestation sac. They did a blood test and sent me home saying if things got worse, come back.

We went home and from sheer stress exhaustion managed to get some sleep.

I woke up screaming with a sharp stabbing pain in my belly.  In the loo I passed a little blob of something, there was no blood around it and it landed on some toilet paper in the loo.  I decided to fish it out and have a closer look at it.  It was my baby.  I could see the tiniest of tiny fingers on both hands and feet (they all looked like fingers).  I could not see a head, but I could clearly see each tiny finger on tiny little hands.  That broke me completely.  I cried uncontrollably from shock and the pain.

There was now clearly no mistaking what was happening, I was having a miscarriage.  My baby had shot out of my body and there was nothing I could do about it.  It was terrifying.  My fears and anxieties from the day before were nothing compared to the shock and horror of what was happening now.  We went straight back to A&E and as we got there another sharp pain lead to passing a piece of placenta – or some of it, it was just smaller than the size of my palm and it was purple.  There was really nothing A&E could do, they said they’d test the bit I’d just passed (but I wonder if they really did), they monitored me with the usual blood pressure, temperature and blood tests, and sent me home again.  We took a long detoured drive home and when we got back I put the foetus in a glass of water.  I wanted to see its arms unfold away from its tummy.  It was disturbing yet somehow comforting to see the head missing – it proved something was wrong – perhaps it had a weak neck and that’s why it died.  Perhaps it broke off while shooting out or perhaps it had broken off much earlier and that’s why I miscarried.  Judging by its little bulging belly I suspected it was nine weeks old, considering I was eleven weeks, it must have died a few weeks before I miscarried.  I don’t regret seeing it and I don’t regret putting it in the glass of water.  There was something calming about seeing it with my own eyes, it was my first confirmation that it was a real baby.  At least I knew my body was capable of growing a real baby.  Most importantly it kick-started the process of closure for what had just happened.

How we coped with it

The next day my husband and I decided to have a little farewell for our lost baby.  To me it was a girl and I named her Zoe (ironically is Greek for ‘Life’).  We put her in a matchbox and put the matchbox in the little black velvet bag that our wedding rings came in.  Then we went to a nearby forested area and buried her at the foot of a big tree, took a few photos of ourselves at the tree, and went home.  I’ve been to visit twice since then and there’s a lush growth of long green grass at that spot now 🙂

What happened after the miscarriage

The bleeding and cramping on Sunday was almost unbearable.  A good friend was there for moral support and some female influence.  My husband, the poor man, didn’t know what to do with himself.  He kept making cups of tea and came to hover about with concern every time I screamed in pain.  This was a very different kind of shocking experience for him.  Even though he didn’t have the physical pain and emotional trauma of losing a baby growing inside him, he certainly felt a lot of it just by seeing me in that state.  There was very little he or anyone else could really do to help.  Each piece of tissue passed was painful beyond belief and it was emotionally traumatic each time to see them come out of me – thick purple red reminders that my baby was no more.

Anything positive that resulted from the miscarriage was another straw I clutched at.  Our financial burdens were suddenly lifted and I forced myself to focus on that too.  We had another chance to prepare financially.  I desperately did not want to slide into a self-pitying depression and kept reminding myself that at least I wasn’t 6 months pregnant and at least it all happened quickly and at least we had a trial run of what it’s like to be pregnant and at least I’m ok.

The bleeding seemed to stop and the check up scan said I was all clear.  Unfortunately it didn’t end there.  About two weeks after the miscarriage, on my way home from work, I suddenly started gushing what felt like cups of blood.  Luckily I was fairly close to home so I dealt with it and put it down to a freak after effect.  Sadly the next day it happened again on my way home from work, but this time I hadn’t even finished the bus ride to the railway station.  I got off the bus immediately and anxiously asked around for a loo, cleaned up as best I could (with no wet wipes or pads, in a public loo cubicle!)  and falteringly finding my way to a the nearest hospital with an A&E where I eventually I felt a bit safer.  By then the gushing had stopped and it was just normal bleeding, (same as the night before) and there was nothing A&E could do for me but send me home and ‘come back if it gets worse’.  By this time my husband had arrived and I was extremely happy that I did not have to travel home alone.

The next day I called my doctor, clearly there’s something wrong, A&E couldn’t help, maybe he could.  In the waiting room that afternoon it happened again!  He couldn’t really help me.  By now I was mad with fear.  I’d seen more blood come out of me than I could deal with.  I’d been to three different hospitals and spent a weekend in one of them, had been on two antibiotics and progesterone tablets, a drip and an Anti D injection (I am Rhesus Negative and the AntiD injection prevents your blood from making antibodies which would kill off a Rhesus Positive baby).   Because I wasn’t actually gushing blood while these medical people were seeing to me, they could not see what I was so worried about.  The tests showed I was normal and they based all their decisions on the fact that my last scan said I was all clear.  I was starting to feel truly crazy.  How could they say I’m fine?   So I went to have another scan and guess what, the scan showed that I was not ‘all clear’ after all.  Finally, after a month and a half of hell, I went for a D&C and after that life slowly started returning to normal.

I feel cheated though – the innocence and pure joy of my first pregnancy is gone and I felt that the next pregnancy might not have the same euphoria, but instead may have more fear and anxiety – exactly the kind of thing I really don’t handle well!

The second pregnancy

My second pregnancy ocurred within 5 months, we were overjoyed but the naivety was certainly gone!  Once bitten, twice shy.  This time we wanted to curb the excitement but it wasn’t easy because the knowledge of pregnancy is a wonderful experience and we soon told the people we were in touch with, feeling safe in the belief that we were statistically unlikely to miscarry again.  We told them as we saw or spoke to them, but it definitely felt less blissful this time round.  I was even MORE careful this time.  I stopped my yoga-exercise classes (they are abdomen intense) and I was taking great care not to get stressed and started folic acid before I even concieved. I was a bit more edgy this time though, and I still feel quite bad about how I reacted sometimes.

The second miscarriage

By 7 weeks 4 days, I bled bright red on a Monday morning, went straight to hospital and did two scans (abdominal and transvaginal), but they couldn’t find a heartbeat.  They said perhaps the embryo is too small or I have my dates wrong.  My dates were right, I’d been marking my periods on my calendar.  I did an HCG blood test, which had a reading of 2970 – quite a low reading even for a 5 or 6 week pregnancy.  There was still a small amount of hope, but I pretty much knew I was losing it, the cramps and bleeding were persistent.  By the time I did the next HCG blood test 48 hours later my HCG level had gone down to 400.  I was still cramping and bleeding with clots and tissue.  Pretty clear indications then.

How we coped this time

It’s not all over yet, so I still feel a little more detached than I did last time and it almost seems easier to deal with than the last one.  Starting this website has helped a lot and it will be an ongoing project for me until we have a full term pregnancy and a live child.  It’s also been very helpful speaking to some of my friends who’ve been through their own miscarriages.  It’s amazing how many people it’s happened to – and if I didn’t talk about it to them I wouldn’t even have known they had the same / similar experience!

What happened after the miscarriage

In a way I’m glad it happened sooner than 11 weeks this time, it saved me a few more weeks of worry.  I seem to be coping on a bit of ‘auto-pilot’ at the moment, perhaps when the D&C is over then the emotions will come, perhaps not.  I remember my mom saying that she wasn’t supposed to be able to have children, perhaps I inherited whatever she had but she passed away many years ago and I can’t ask her what it was.  They only test the reasons for miscarriage after your third miscarriage, hopefully I won’t need those tests!

This time I don’t want to wait for it to come out naturally, I don’t want the complications I had last time and I don’t want to waste precious time, I’m 34 and we want 2 children.  I’ve booked the D&C for this coming Monday.  I won’t let this get to me like the first one did.  I have to try again.  I have to have faith.  It’s pointless everyone else having faith for you and you don’t believe it yourself, that’s useless!  I’m not religious so I’m holding thumbs and crossing fingers.  We WILL get there.