The Bloghop for Better Miscarriage Care
When the Campaign for Better Miscarriage Care launched on Monday, Mumsnet bloggers spread the word. These bloggers broke the taboo and wrote openly about their miscarriages. Here are some of their stories.
"'How's the new Mummy this morning then?' The words could not have hurt more... When I look back, it was the comments and actions of the staff that hurt most. I could close my eyes and ears to the pregnant women and babies around me but the interaction with the staff was unavoidable." Mme Lindor, Salt and Caramel
"What followed were the most traumatic six hours of my life culminating in me having my baby while alone in the bathroom, pulling on the red alarm cord and getting no response for almost thirty minutes. By the time they came I was semi-hysterical and bleeding heavily. They laughed and said 'everyone cries when it's over' and took the baby away in a bed pan covered over with toilet tissue. They didn't come back." Claire, guest blogger at Pint Sized Rants
"I was nine weeks pregnant when I saw my GP after some slight bleeding. The first thing he did was tell me off for turning up on a Friday evening when scanning facilities were closed until Monday morning. I felt like apologising for not timing my miscarriage better. The sonographer was perfunctory: 'Unable to detect a heartbeat, looks like development stopped at seven weeks. A missed miscarriage'." Emily, Babyrambles
"Surgical removal seemed so much less traumatic. I think women who are miscarrying should have their options very clearly explained to them and be offered surgery if they would prefer rather than miscarrying at home...I was six weeks and three days. There was a little heartbeat flickering on the screen. I asked the midwife what should I do if I miscarry in Thailand. She replied 'you won't miscarry'. And I didn't. Not in Thailand anyway." Childbirth, PTSD and Me
"I was shifted off to Greenwich District Hospital, and an ERPC – the snappily named Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception: making sure the womb was properly empty. […] I wanted my baby. I lay there in the dark, trying to cry quietly. A sympathetic nurse appeared and asked me what was wrong, and I told her I'd just lost a baby. All sympathy promptly vanished. 'Oh, is that all,' she said. 'It's very common. Be quiet now, or you'll wake everyone else up, and they need their sleep'." Jane Badger, Books, Mud and Compost
"I'm lucky in that the majority of the care I've received over the last year has been good. I can't fault the care we received... The only blip was when we heard the lady in the room next door to us give birth to a healthy, squalling baby." Kim, Old River House
"Having written all of this down I thought, why on earth am I writing about this in all that detail? And then I realised that I'm writing exactly because most people don't talk about miscarriage or don't want to hear about it. NHS treats it as 'minor surgery' and doesn't pay attention to a woman who wails in the corner of a waiting room for hours. THAT is not normal. THAT is what has to change." Mrs B, CrankyMonkeys
"I was reminded of the many people I encountered who actually made the load a little easier. The porters who wheeled my hospital bed the long way to the operating theatre so that we didn't have to pass through the maternity ward. The nurse who held my hand before the anaesthesiologist came in and said 'It's nearly over now, you're being really brave'." Mummy Limited
"With my first miscarriage, I went to A&E and was seen by an unsympathetic female doctor. The ultrasound guy was kind, but the experience of sharing a waiting room with other pregnant women with live babies was traumatic. Second time around was a bit better, but I could have done without the gaggle of gawping medical students at my ultrasound." Postcards from Pramstead
"The hospital only carried out ERPCs on Thursdays and this was Wednesday. All the beds were fully booked tomorrow, all those women having all their babies cleaned out. So I would have to wait until the following Thursday…I considered going to an abortion clinic. If I could convince them I didn't want to have the baby, they would basically do the same procedure but it would be over faster. I would have to lie and pretend that I didn't know the foetus was dead. I thought I could probably do that but convincing them I didn't want the baby? Not a chance." Sarah, guest blogger at Salt and Caramel
"No one thought to tell the scared 16 year old what to expect, they just left me there, in a room with no one. I remember the scan ... I was told to go home and rest taking paracetamol when the pain got bad. That was that then, no leaflet, no do you have any questions, no sorry for your loss, just a can we call you a taxi. I didn't have any money for one, they didn't even think to call my Foster Mum or my Social Worker so I had to walk the mile and a half home with a tear stained face almost doubled over in agony." Miss Mamo
You can find more posts and info about the bloghop over at Salt and Caramel.