Saturday 23 April 2016

Beginning again, again


Hubby and I take a lot of these silhouette photos when we travel. He's a little shy of having his photo taken, so this was our compromise. We took one just before our first miscarriage and when I look at it, it seems fitting somehow. We are still here, but in a sense we are just shadows of what we were before. We're working hard at getting back to their light, but at the same time, I don't think the light will ever shine quite that brightly again.

Physically things seem to be going well since the miscarriage. I have keyed up the Ovia fertility app again and it is stubbornly telling me that we are right in the middle of my fertile window although I haven't felt that tell tale ovulation pain at this point. I am not really expecting anything, we have mostly decided to at least wait until my first period before trying again.

I was told again that we get to have fun trying again. It's just not fun. The first two times we dtd after our most recent loss I cried. Before, during and after. They say sex is all in the head for women (not that I agree) but in this case all I could think of was that there should still be a baby in there and then we wouldn't be 'trying' at all. And I cried for our baby, our loss, our grief, my husband and myself. Then I cried because I was crying and... well, it goes on.

The grief is almost unbearable at times.  I look at my beautiful husband, a father with no children to hold and my heart just feels so bruised, so shattered. I can feel for him, he's such a part of me and I want to protect him. What I can't deal with is being told that I have to make other people feel better. I keep being reminded that other people are sad about our loss and I should be trying to make them feel better. I just can't. I can't pick up the phone to comfort someone how hasn't even sent a message to see how were doing.

So, the days are moving past and we are trying to begin again. Nothing will change what has happened in the past or the hole in our hearts and lives where our babies should be, but we can try to look to the future and remind ourselves that next time, just maybe, things will be different.


Wednesday 20 April 2016

I wish I knew then what I know now

I haven't written for a while. This loss had been really tough on us and is combined with tricky times for us both with family and at work.

One thing that I have been really aware of is just how lucky (blessed? I don't like using the word, but maybe it fits) I am to have such a supportive partner. I have seen a lot of ladies in my loss forums saying that they feel like their partners don't understand, that they don't grieve, that they are mean or say hurtful things. Many of these women are experiencing their first loss and I can totally relate to those feelings.

I knew that my husband felt something of our first losses as he was diagnosed with depression shortly after and started taking anti-depressants. What I didn't feel, however, was love, support or understanding. We actually went through a horrible time where I even started thinking that maybe we shouldn't be together anymore.

I can't say for sure what changed. I know I refused to stop talking to him about what I was thinking and feeling, and if his responses were hurtful or he told me he didn't know how to respond, I told him what I needed. I didn't expect him to guess. I also made an effort to actually ask him more often how he was feeling and what he was thinking. At first he didn't really respond, but once he did, my heart just broke for him.

I realised then that the main reason I hadn't felt loved, supported or understood was that he was doing all he could just to hold himself together. For example, he went straight back to work instead of staying with me because he needed to feel some sense of the world continuing and life going on. Once he admitted this, we were able to fully support each other instead of grieving alone. Now, after our most recent loss, I think we have been fully there for each other and I understand that he feels and expresses his grief in completely different ways to me. I think that is the key for so many of these women I see, they are so wrapped up in their pain (and understandably so) that they say that their partner SHOULD do, say or feel certain things. There is no SHOULD about grief and every person feels every loss differently.

After a conversation last week when someone told me "everything happens for a reason" we were talking about this latest loss. We both admitted, somewhat guiltily, that we were feeling this one a little more. Perhaps because it is still such a new, raw pain, but perhaps because we spent more time with this little one. Did that mean we grieved our other losses any less? I don't think so. They're all different and they all hold a seperate place in our hearts.


Sunday 17 April 2016

15 things everyone should know about grief after pregnancy loss



I found an article online, 15 things doctors don't tell you about grief after pregnancy loss but should, and as I read, I couldn't help but thinking that as much as I do wish someone had told me these things after my first loss, I think it is important for EVERYONE to know these things about pregnancy loss. So to do my bit, I am posting the list below. If you want to read more about each item on the list, please head to the original article (link above).

1) No matter what stage of loss during pregnancy it hurts
2) Some will not acknowledge your loss
3) It hurts like hell psychically and emotionally
4) You blame yourself 
5) You lose trust in your body
6) You feel isolated
7) You will grieve for what would have been
8) It happens more than you think
9) Some will be mean
10) You will grieve differently than your partner
11) It’s traumatic
12) There is support
13) A ritual goodbye can help no matter what stage of loss.
14) You are still at risk for PMADs but don’t confuse that with normal grief
15) You will always remember 

 

Wednesday 6 April 2016

Expectant miscarriage


Maybe I am just weak. I feel completely drained and exhausted and today is the first day in a week that I haven't taken any painkillers (yet).

After my scan last Wednesday hubby came home and we had a long talk about what do do next, waiting, medication or d&c. He was very reluctant to have any input, as he said I was the one who would ultimately have to go through it, but I felt that even if I was to make the final decision it was important that I knew his feelings about it.

We decided that I would ring the clinic the following day to schedule a d&c and ask about testing for our baby. Somehow we got on to the point of whether or not they would be able to tell us the sex of the baby, and if they could did we want to know.  I was really torn, but hubby said that as we didn't know for any of the others, it didn't feel right to make this baby any different. I understand that, and then he said that it would be too much for him to know and make it too hard to cope with, making it more real.

A little less than an hour after this highly emotional conversation I started bleeding. The decision was out of our hands. I had a little pain but not much more bleeding and slept with some kind of peace knowing that things were happening. 

The following morning there wasn't much bleeding and the day passed ok. That night the pain started building to the point where I was shaking and vomiting and hubby called the nurse on call. She told us to head to Emergency and so we did.

I didn't have to wait long, I must have looked a right mess, and they started with all their tests and so on. Soon after I arrived I passed 4 or 5 really large clots and I just couldn't look, even though they kept asking me how much I had passed. I know baby was only 1.5cm but I just couldn't take the chance of seeing something. Almost as heartbreaking as the thought of flushing our baby down the toilet and the thought of it all, and the previous four times, makes me feel sick still.

 They asked what pain relief I had been prescribed when I chose to wait and were shocked to hear that I had been told to expect a 'heavy period' and that panadol and a hot water bottle should do the trick. I already knew from past experience that it would be painful, but what I was experiencing then was almost unimaginable. All the monitoring they were doing showed that far from normal period cramps, I was experiencing contractions as my body tried to birth my baby. 

They were also concerned about my blood pressure which was crazy (most likely from the pain they said) and my white cell count which was above the normal range indicating that my body was fighting some kind of infection. Eventually, an internal examination (super painful) showed that my cervix was still open and nothing was blocking it, the pain was managed, my blood pressure came down and I was given my antiD and sent on my way.

That night and the next day are a bit of a haze of pain and painkillers and it slowly got more manageable. The last few days were nothing more than one or two episodes of cramps and heavy bleeding a day. By the following Tuesday a scan showed that everything has passed and my WCC had dropped right down to 6.

Physically, it was over in 6 days after we found out. Emotionally, only time will tell.



 

Saturday 2 April 2016

The storm continues


It may sound strange to say, but the scan I had on Wednesday which confirmed that we had lost our little one was the loveliest scan I have had so far.

I went to my GP in the morning, following our last scan with the specialist and she was horrified to hear what had been happening since I last saw her. (I should also add, she was fully booked but when I said what was happening she made a point of seeing me during her break time)

She immediately rang a private scan centre nearby and asked if they could squeeze me in, they told me to come down asap. My doctor also suggested that I should go straight there, not wait until hubby was off work the next day. It meant going alone, which we both hated, but there was no choice as he couldn't get anyone to replace him at work (more on that another day).

Thankfully, there was only one other couple waiting and they were gone almost immediately, so I didn't have to listen to their excited conversation. My doctor had made a point of letting them know that it was a suspected miscarriage, I didn't want some poor tech to be traumatised by the thought of giving me bad news. As much as I was hoping for the best, we were prepared for the worst.

She was so patient and kind, asking questions about my health and the pregnancy. When she was doing the scan, she explained everything that she was doing and took multiple measurements. She pointed out to me on the screen all the things she was looking at and looking for. She didn't just stop at looking for a heartbeat, she also looked for blood flow. She measured our little baby from different angles and gave us a better idea of when baby had stopped growing. I can't adequately express the calm, peace and empathy the lovely tech conveyed.

As she packed up and went to call my doctor with the report, she handed me a little print out of the clearest image she had managed to get. That's when I finally gave in to my grief. They even asked if they could take me out the back for a cup of tea so I didn't have to wait in the main waiting room. Just so kind and considerate. They even did the scan free of charge which was completely unexpected.

I went straight to hubby's work and we looked at our little photo and cried together. I just wish he had been able to come, he's still pretty traumatised by how we were treated at the previous scan and I think it would have eased him a little.

Five pregnancies and five losses seems almost too much to bear. But we will. Somehow.