I found out I was pregnant on Saturday. I lost my baby on Thursday. I was pregnant for five days.
In five days I went from shock to cautious excitement.
In five days I went from fear to tentative visions of November and beginnings – the life of the baby I would birth and the role of Mother for me.
I tried so hard not to, but images of summer maternity clothes, baby showers and “my first Christmas” outfits intruded.
For five days I began every thought with “touch wood” and “if everything works out ok”.
For five days I was going to be a Mother. Mum. Ma. Mumma. Mummy.
Five days. It’s nothing when you think about it. But those five days were the longest days of my life. I will never forget those five days. My life changed.
One Saturday was the best day of my life
One Thursday was the worst.
I said goodbye to my baby by flushing the toilet. A small mass of cells, not much substance. But that bloody mess was a combination of me and the man I have loved for 20 years. Something so beautiful and long lasting created something that was flushed away in seconds.
How am I supposed to try again. The tentative steps of me, emerging from what happened, shellshocked, bruised. In pain. So much pain. So much fear.
I had a still born daughter 5 years ago, and it hurts like hell one of the worst times me and my husband have ever been through.
Mother's Day was close to my lose as well and it was awful as family didn't know how to approach it.
You ask how you are supposed to try again? It is scary to try again but take time to grieve for this loss and you will know when you are ready. Having the support of a good partner is so good. I now 5 years later have a baby boy of 6 months.