I have had two miscarriages in the last 10 months, one was a missed miscarriage at 12 weeks and another that I’m just recovering from was an ectopic pregnancy. Last year from positive test to negative took 3 months, and this year from positive test until we can try again will be 4.5 months (methotrexate used to can’t conceive for 12 weeks). Both miscarriages involved a lot of medical intervention and have been anything but straightforward.
I am inherently a different person to who I was 10 months ago and not for the better. I constantly think of how old my baby would be, what stage we would be at, what we should be doing each day. I pine for a baby, I find myself staring at babies or mums and babies in public. Of course I don’t want their baby, I want my baby, and every other baby reminds me that I don’t have my baby.
I am blessed with an amazing 5 year old who was conceived extremely easily, and he is the light of my life, I know I am extremely lucky to have him, but I dream of him having a little sibling and the perfect age gap we dreamed of is a distant memory now. I think back to my carefree pregnancy with him, and know that I’ll never have that again, as even if I’m lucky enough to get pregnant again it will be filled with nothing but fear and worry, and not excitement.
Most of the time I can’t think of much else, and I know I am missing out on so much as my life is so great, but I’m fixated at how unlucky we’ve been with two such complex and awful miscarriages (I know none are nice, but getting through the entire first trimester being sick each day, feeling horrendous and getting to your scan to find it was all for nothing is a special kind of hell of it’s own).
I know people have it worse than me, and I know I’m being unreasonable, and I should be so thankful for what I do have, and I am so thankful, but I’m also so sad. I’m so sad my body has twice failed me, and that this could happen all over again. I don’t know how I get over this nostalgia of ‘what if’.