I’m writing this anonymously behind a screen, mainly because I feel ashamed for feeling how I feel and this is the only way I feel able to express myself.
I qualified as a midwife in my early twenties. I loved my job. Every day I thanked my lucky stars for the privilege of spending my day with a labouring woman and helping to bring her baby into the world.
A little while later I married my best friend, and almost immediately we began trying to conceive our first baby. It’s been 3 long years of period tracking, pregnancy testing and heartbreaking. 4 miscarriages later, I’m beginning to lose all hope. My consultant is still searching for the answer.
Becoming a mummy has been my ultimate goal ever since I was little. I’m beginning to feel as though my only role in motherhood is delivering other people’s babies.
I feel as though I’m not only losing my chance at motherhood, but the job I once so much loved too. I no longer cry tears of happiness for the women I care for, but tears of envy, sadness and self-loathing. I want the women who tell me how much they hate being pregnant, or complain about how tired they are that I would give my arm and a leg to have what they do.
My 4th miscarriage, just last week, happened at work. I was on the labour ward caring for a lovely, incredibly strong lady. She was close to giving birth when I went to the toilet and saw the blood in my knickers. I left her with another midwife and went home.
I haven’t been back since and part of me wonders if I ever will. Those women deserve more.
I’m heartbroken, lost, empty, and so horribly envious.
I don’t really know what I was hoping to gain from this post, but writing this out has been a little cathartic. I’m sorry to those reading for not having a happy ending, but I hope, I so hope one day I will come back to tell you that I am a mummy too...
I hope we all do.