Most people think a miscarriage is quick and easy, you pass the baby and that’s that – you can move on with your life. Unfortunately that isn’t the case.
In 2014 I found out I was pregnant. I was shocked but happy, knowing I had a little human growing inside of me.
I found out around 12/13 weeks. I had been given my scan date and couldn’t be more excited, even though it was 2 weeks away.
Then one Saturday before my scan which was booked for four days later, everything changed.
I started to bleed.
I called NHS Direct to speak to the doctor, but they said as it was only a little bit of blood I was okay to wait until the scan I had booked. The doctor told me that some people bleed during pregnancy, and that it was normal.
Little did I know that in the early hours of Tuesday morning everything would change.
I woke up with intense stomach cramps, to the point where I couldn’t move.
It felt like labour pains, it was awful – possibly the worst pain I have ever experienced in my life.
My mum had called NHS Direct again, and they sent an ambulance because by this time the blood was pouring out of me and I was almost passing out from the pain.
When I arrived at A&E the hospital staff were lovely. Apart from one, who treated me like a piece of rubbish on the floor.
She came in and noticed I had lost yet more blood and she had said ‘Would you like me to tell you when you’ve passed it all?’ after being told there was still a chance I was carrying a live baby.
I was moved to the ward and booked in for a scan, and after an hour or two I was taken down for it.
During the scan is when the heartbreaking words I had been dreading all morning finally came.
‘I’m sorry but you’ve had an incomplete miscarriage’.
An incomplete miscarriage is where you only lose so much of the baby and you are still carrying the rest, which can make you become septic.
I was given a choice of an operation or tablets to help the rest pass. I wanted to avoid an operation so I chose the tablets.
Unfortunately, the tablets caused me to hemorrhage and I lost a lot of blood.
I was sent home that night after having taken the tablets and within half an hour my mum had to phone another ambulance because I was losing so much blood.
I was taken back to the hospital, where they scanned me again. Apparently, I hadn’t still hadn’t lost all of the baby – so they booked me in for an operation in which I had to wait a week for.
But things worsened and I was sent back to the hospital that night, where I was taken down for emergency surgery due to the dangerous amount of blood I had lost.
The surgery went well and I was released home the following day, still poorly and severely anemic.
Unfortunately my hopes of recovery were short-lived, as not long after being at home I started showing signs of infection.
After an out-of-hours visit to my doctor, it was confirmed that I had a womb infection. I was given antibiotics for the infection but they didn’t work.
And a few days later I was taken back to the hospital by ambulance. My blood suagrs had dropped and I was taken back to the hospital.
Luckily, the issue was fixable there and then without any more surgery.
On my return home, I hoped that this would be the end of it and that I could finally move on with my life.
But ‘moving on with my life’ came in a form I’d never have expected.
I had fallen pregnant again just two months after my miscarriage. Of course, I panicked. I was terrified that the same thing would happen again. The pregnancy start-to-finish was an endless battle of fear.
Miscarrying previously had made me so paranoid that during this pregnancy I didn’t buy anything for the baby until I was 30 weeks pregnant – as I was worried history would repeat itself.
But thankfully, I carried full-term and gave birth to the most beautiful, healthy baby boy.
I will never stop grieving for the baby I lost, and although it still feels raw, having my boy – who’s now one year old – has given me the strength to somewhat deal with the heartbreak. He’s given me a reason to smile again.
Miscarrying has affected me mentally more than it did physically.
Before falling pregnant again I had become extremely suicidal and I refused to leave the house.
I was constantly wondering what I had done wrong to deserve this. After finally admitting defeat, I went to the doctors and was diagnosed with and treated for depression.
I think of the baby I lost everyday. I think of what he or she would have looked like.
Would they have looked like my son? Or even their dad?
Now, I have accepted the fact that some things happen for a reason. I wouldn’t have had my little boy if it hadn’t have happened – and so I feel blessed to that have a healthy, amazing little boy to be proud of every single day.
Words by Shannon Deane