What it feels like

Here's a glimpse of what recurring miscarriages might feel like:

The first one was somehow a complete surprise and at the same time almost expected. If you look back in this blog, I had been thinking about the possibility and preparing myself for it. But at the same time I had had a 12 week scan before with my first pregnancy and it had been fine and great and fun. I had no reason to expect the shocking image of a way too small foetus and the absolute stillness of an ultrasound image without a flickering heart.

That first one was grief, but mostly disappointment really. It felt like an unnecessary waste of time. But since I know how common it is and I have a baby already, I didn't let it get me down too much. These things happen, onwards and upwards!

The second one was so undramatic that it might as well never have happened. I did a pregnancy test on the last day my parents were visiting. I thought it might be too early, but I did it anyway just because it would be so great to be able to announce to them before they left. And to all our joy it was positive! Only to go away a week later. So really, if I hadn't done that test I might never have known that I was pregnant.

The third one was the worst one. Because I had those two miscarriages already, and they were quite different from each other, I assumed it was just statistics. 25% of all pregnancies and all that. Of course I did worry a little bit, but really I thought everything would be fine this time. I even bought some baby stuff at a baby expo after I had seen that little heart beat so strongly at the six week scan.

That feeling when I saw the stillness of the scan at eight weeks was horrible. I have seen enough ultrasound scans by now that I saw straight away that it was over. The technician kept telling me she was looking for a heart beat, and I just wanted to tell her to stop. We both knew there wasn't one. And then the silly woman started saying one of the many idiotic things you could say to a person who's sitting on a clinic bed crying with a dead foetus in her belly. She said: "Oh, but look, you have such a gorgeous daughter already! And I only have one child myself and I'm really happy!"

There are two comments I dislike very much, and you hear them a lot once people know you've miscarried. I know they are all well meant and supposed to comfort you, but never say to a woman who's just lost a pregnancy "It's really common, it happens all the time..." or "Be grateful for the healthy child you already have!". There is really nothing you can say that makes a woman in this situation feel any better, but there are things that make her feel worse. Adding guilt to the pain is just unfair. Not only am I carrying a dead baby and have to deal with getting rid of it and all that misery, I also have to feel guilty for not being grateful enough for what I already have and stupid for feeling alone in this suffering.

Jesus woman, just shut your mouth and hand me a tissue.

I had to wait about a week for an appointment for a D&C. That time was the worst, I was so upset and cried and cried and cried. I really did start falling apart at the seams. I struggled being nice and polite to anyone, least of all my family. Somehow this felt like an actual lost baby, not just a lost pregnancy. Maybe because this time I had seen the heartbeat with my own eyes and for a short while it had been real.

Now, two months after that last miscarriage was dealt with, I feel quietly hopeful that next time will be fine. But I have this bizarre and illogical reaction whenever other people announce that they are pregnant - I take it as a personal insult. It's an odd feeling, I am happy for them but somewhere deep inside I'm shouting "Stop flaunting it you evil bitch! I was supposed to be pregnant too!"

Ah well. Next time will be my time.