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Dealing with the loss of a baby.
Miscarriage in general
Member Name: loopy-lou33
Miscarriage in general
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I am writing this in the hope that it may help someone who is reading and may have gone through a similar situation.
When my oldest son, who is now 9, was seven months old, I became pregnant with my second child. I was overjoyed at the prospect of having two children so close together, although a little daunted for the same reason! I had no reson to believe that I would have any problems with the pregnancy. As far as I knew, nobody in our family had ever had a miscarriage before, and I suppose I felt "immune", like it could never happen to me.
When you first find out you are having a baby, all you can concentrate on is getting to the magical 13 week point, at which the risk of miscarriage is greatly lessened. I remember getting to that point and heaving a huge sigh of relief, glad that the pregnancy seemed to be going so smoothly. It was a few days after that, when I started to notice a few drops of brown blood when I went to the toilet. I was a bit alarmed, but a visit to the doctor reasured me that there was nothing to worry about.
However, the bleeding did not stop, and a few days later, I checked into the early bleed clinic at the local hospital to have a scan. I was due to have a scan anyway that week. I still felt confident that there was no problem with the baby, and that this was just a "blip" in proceedings.
As I lay down for the scan, the sonographer rubbed the scanner over my belly. She seemed to have trouble finding anything. She kept moving the scanner around for what seemed like ages, before a small mass appeared on the screen. It was not moving.
I looked at the mass, and started to worry, as it looked so different from the scan I'd had taken in my first pregnancy. The sonographer seemed to take measurements and zoom into the picture before telling me that she couldn't detect a heartbeat. I kept looking hopefully at the screen, wishing that I could detect some sort of movement, but the horrible truth was that I was looking at a dead baby. When I realised that, I turned away from the screen.
Apperently, the baby died at 10-11 weeks. On the day I had celebrated reaching my thirteenth week, the baby had already been dead for some time. I felt very numb, upset and unreal, as if all this was happening to someone else. I left the hospital in a daze, hugging my little boy, who had no idea he had just lost a sibling, and couldn't understand why mummy was crying.
I got home and phoned everyone. It was horrible having to break the news to my family, especially dad, who started crying. I felt so many emotions over the following weeks and months. Firstly, I felt quite bitter towards my husband, who didn't seem to be grieving as much as me. He hadn't thought of it as a real baby, so I felt quite alone in my grief, and this was really hard for us both. I also seemed to notice baby things everywhere, on posters, on TV and moms with prams wherever I looked! These were harsh reminders. I struggled with the idea that I must have done something wrong, or maybe I had simply not wanted the baby enough. Well meaning friends felt they needed to share their stories of miscarriage with me, but I didn't want to listen. It was all too raw. Of course, you also have to face people who don't realise what has happened and ask how the pregnacy is going, and you find yourself having to relate everything all over again. It is awful.
Time passed, and we decided to do something positive in memory of our baby. We paid the woodland trust to dedicate a tree in memory of the baby. They sent us a certificate, with a short piece I had written in the baby's memory. The woods where the tree is located were in Devon, a favourite holiday destination of ours. This would serve as a reminder that the baby had existed, and would never be forgotten.
I think about the baby from time to time, but the pain becomes less every passing year. A year after the baby would have been born, in December, I gave birth to a daughter, and in June, exactly four years after my miscarriage, I had a baby boy. These happy events helped to ease the pain that these times of the year held for me. The children know about what happened, and occasionaly ask questions about it, wondering what their brother or sister would have looked like, but the irony is, that if that baby had been born, I would have had a completely different family, and my daughter wouldn't have been born.
Everyone deals with these things in their own way. For me, time has been a healer, as well as the joy I find in my family. I hope that this experience has given my more empathy and understanding towards others, and has contibuted something of worth to who I am as a person. My baby may have had a very short life, but it did exist, and holds a cherished place in my heart, and that is what matters to me.
Thank you for reading. I hope this helps someone.
Summary: My heart goes out to anyone who has experienced this kind of loss.
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