(Note: This is an open and honest account. I do not mean to upset or offend anyone; on the contrary I believe that it is good to share experiences as it may help another in some small way. Death is mostly a taboo subject but I think it helps to face our fears in life. Please only read on if you want to?).
I hadn?t seen this much blood since I gave birth seven months ago. Then, however, it was all for a wonderful, meaningful reason; the birth of our daughter - this time was different.
Unable to leave the loo for fear of leaking all over the floor I shouted, once again, to Patrick to come and help me.
?Please look and see if you can see anything. I just can?t look down and I?m sure something bigger is passing out of me. Oh my God - is this it???
Yet again I found myself reflecting on how I?d got to this point, stuck on the loo for now nearly two hours, cramping and blood continuously trickling out of me. It looked like a scene from a horror movie, albeit a relatively ?contained? one.
Crouching down to meet my eyes, Patrick The Brave, held my hands in his and said ?Love, we know it?s all working at least, it?s going exactly as the doctor said it would and it?s good that everything comes out, it has to and it?s best that it does now?. Then he gently peered into the toilet bowl to see if he could recognise anything that might resemble a 7 week old foetus. Once again though he wasn?t entirely sure. I mean, in fairness, if you?ve never seen one, bar on the internet or in a book, how the hell does one know which bit is the foetus in all that mess and gore? There?s so much blood covering everything that it?s almost impossible to tell.
I remember at that moment feeling so scared, so utterly powerless and just this huge sense of being a failure as a woman. A reproducing woman who hadn?t actually ?produced?. Part of me wanted to clamp my legs together, breathe in and not let another drop of blood fall out of me so I could hold on to what was our precious and much-wanted baby. The other part of me wanted to get the whole thing over with as quickly as possible and get it out because the knowledge that I was carrying our dead baby around everywhere I went was simply too sad and too absurd to think about.
We?d found out on the Monday. Monday Bloody Monday. An eagerly anticipated trip to Dr. B, our gyne, for our standard 7-9 week scan turned our lives around in the space of just half an hour. With the probe inside me, Dr. B was awfully, awfully silent as he moved it around watching the screen intently whilst I held my breath, looked eventually at the ceiling and physically willed him to say ?everything looks fine? even though I knew, I just knew, that everything was indeed not fine. Instead, he quietly withdrew his magic wand and said ?I?m so sorry, but there?s no heartbeat?. My world stopped and I couldn?t speak for a minute. Patrick was brought in with India, our 7 month old daughter, and the words were repeated to him. I could not believe what I was hearing, how could this have happened? To us, to our perfect world?? As if ever-present, Masters Guilt and Self Criticism immediately started up, ?Had I caused this, had I killed our baby when I was ill on a recent trip to the UK, did I not take care enough, had I not sent enough love to the unborn babe??. Oh my God. Someone PLEASE tell me this isn?t happening. Look again Dr. B, maybe if I sit really still and will the wee bean on the screen to move it will suddenly jump into life and we can all breath again. But he did look again and it didn?t. Oh my God.
Sitting dressed back in the doc?s waiting room I looked at Patrick, trying to be ?the man?, to be brave, to hold it together for all our sakes, yet also feeling the loss as keenly as I. My first thought was, ?I have failed him, us?. Swiftly followed by, ?he might leave me because I have lost this baby and I am now getting too old to have many more chances?. The tears threatened but I just managed to keep in check and remind myself that Patrick would not be thinking this, on the contrary he loved me and he loved our daughter. ?For Gods sake get a grip Lucy?.
What next?? Well, my options were; take tablets to expel the contents of my uterus or go into hospital for a D&C. I didn?t want to do either. I just wanted everything to be ok. But it wasn?t and I had to decide. I chose the tablets.
The only thing was that for various reasons I couldn?t actually begin the first round of the two-stage tablet option until the Thursday. It was only Monday. Hence, the next three days were spent avidly reading up about miscarriage on the internet, talking to others who had been through similar situations, receiving wonderfully encouraging messages of support from friends and family and trying to come to terms with what had happened - and was about to happen. Patrick was my lover, best friend and rock. We talked often and openly about everything that was in each of our minds. This was perhaps the biggest help of all for me. The waiting though was hideous. Once you are conscious that you are carrying a dead baby inside you it is physiologically very, very hard to just go about your day as if all is ok with the world.
Now, after the tablets have been taken and the worst of the blood bath is over, I have said my private goodbyes. I feel I have moved into a place of calm, of acceptance, of knowing that this wee babe had accomplished his or her life?s purpose and I?ve started to look less at ?why?? and more of ?what has this experience taught me??. I believe everything happens for a reason and I am sure I know why this happened to us. I feel it is ultimately to teach us that life is precious, a gift and is very fragile. I look at India and I see so much life in her. She too has helped bring me through the sadness and on towards optimism and hope once more.
A miscarriage is many things to (unfortunately) many people. To me it was the end of a new beginning. The death of a child, no matter how old they are, is a very harrowing and distressing experience. I lost my baby at 7 weeks pregnant. I can?t even imagine what it feels like to lose a baby at 7 months pregnant, 7 months old, or a child of 7 years old? How do people cope? I do not know. I have a new-found respect and empathy for any parent who has lost a baby or child.
Children really are a gift. If we are lucky enough to be a parent then we should cherish our children and count our lucky blessings every day that they are alive and well.
My motto is ?Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle?. Never has this felt truer.