Baby Loss Awareness Week - Finding the words to talk about my rainbow baby

The English language is a great thing. For those of us who enjoy writing, we can mould and shape words into beautiful landscapes, capture memories, and share details of personal moments. Words bring us closer together. But what happens when there are no words? I started Learning Early four years ago when I first found out I was pregnant, and naively threw myself into baby-world, immediately deciding to blog my way through pregnancy.  Hubby and I were ecstatic, the situation wasn’t ideal, but we knew we’d make it work.  I remember it clearly – it was a Sunday morning, I’d suspected for a few days, but needed to wait until I took the test.  I sat in the bathroom, trying not to peek before the required 2 minutes had passed… but right on queue little blue line appeared.  I woke hubby up with the news, he swore a bit, grinned, and then scooped me up in his arms and laughed. We lay in bed for a while in a bubble of happy contentment, chatting about our new future as a threesome  – his hand occasionally stroking my belly.  

We excitedly told our families.

We could have only been five weeks gone when I found myself gazing through a shop window at all the baby toys and trinkets, when hubby squeezed my hand and asked if I wanted to buy something…

Miscarriage never crossed my mind.  

A couple of weeks later we lost our baby.  And with that moment the words started to dry up.

Child loss plunges you into darkness.  You grieve for the life you’ve lost, but also for the future.  There’s a moment in the scan room when the world that you’d so carefully started to build and cultivate in your mind just evaporates.

And you’re alone.

We spent days crying - I told colleagues I had back ache.

I was prescribed codine for the pain - I told the pharmacist I had whiplash.

I stuck to the taboos.  Kept the real source of my pain hidden.  Slowly, I started to paste a smile on my face that I didn’t feel and head back to the real world.  I hated every second.  I was lonely.  I wanted others to understand the pain I was feeling.  I wanted comfort.  I wanted to talk about my child. But I didn’t.

I never thought that it would take 4 years to fall pregnant again.  I started Learning Early anonymously because I was worried that potential employers would find it and become aware of my family plans, but slowly when no pregnancy appeared, my blog slowly dried up... 

Then I had a missed miscarriage in February 2016. We’d learnt from our first pregnancy and had decided not to share our pregnancy news with our families (why risk causing them the pain of a lost future too?), but told them and a few close friends about the miscarriage. We needed support.  I’d decided not to blog about the pregnancy either – I felt I’d been naïve previously, but now that the little one was gone, I didn’t know how to bring up that loss on a blog that I was already struggling to maintain…

I wasn’t ashamed.  But it was really really tough on me physically.  I got an infection, I needed constant check ups and scans at the hospital – and I fell back into old habits.  Twisting the truth to not make others uncomfortable about our situation, our loss, our grief,– I was seeing the doctor for “a surgery follow up” or I “needed a blood test” or whatever I could come up with on the spot.  I felt guilty.  I was reducing the loss of our son to a check up.

I've inadvertently gone by all the stereotypes that I've learnt to hate.  I despise the miscarriage taboos. We should talk.  We should support.  We should share our stories.  Miscarriage is horrible.  Miscarriage is painful.  But miscarriage is awfully common. There’s no reason it should be isolating.  

For those of us who have experienced this loss, we need stories of hope – we need to know that after all the suffering and grey skies there is the potential for happier times.  We keep on chasing those rainbows.  

Little Miss P's 12 Week Scan

It’s been a long road, but I’m currently nursing my little rainbow.  It took a while to find the words, to tell people we were expecting for a third time, and for then those words to take shape into physical action. Eventually Hubby and Father in Law started working on turning our third bedroom the nursery.  We bought a buggy. For my birthday Hubby got me a nursing chair.  

Then in May this year the little bubble of happiness that I had been growing in my belly swelled to new heights when our much waited for, and much loved daughter arrived by cesarean section.  Her warm little body curled up again mine, I have never felt such peace and joy as in that moment.  It felt like we’d crossed a finish line, and  won the biggest prize.

This week is Baby Loss Awareness Week, and it will also mark five months since Little Miss P’s arrival.

Hubby and I have lost two children – and we will never know why,  What I do know though is that no one should go through that alone, or think that loss will be the end of their story.   We hold our little girl close every day and love her fiercely and are grateful to have her in our lives.

I shouldn't have kept quiet about our earlier losses. I think I was trying to protect myself in someway, but I am ready to come out of the shadows.  To openly come clean online, shake off my anonymity and to not just tell my story, but to really share my experience.  

I firmly believe that we should all talk. Loss is nothing to be ashamed of. 

I will never forget the children that I have not been able to hold, but we are constantly making plans for  Miss P our rainbow baby, and the family that we have become.  Yes we continue to be anxious, and careful, and jumpy – but what parents aren’t? But we also enjoying bonding over our little one, from her first kicks to her first smile, wondering what her taste in music will be, and whether she will also love words as much as her Mum and Dad…

We know we’ll have lots to teach our little one, and lots to learn.

 

  

My name is Claire Dunford.  

I am Learning Early.

Midwives rock- It's never too late to say Thanks

I've been  off the radar for the last few months.

It happened. I became a mum.

And it was as wonderful and as earth shifting as I expected - if not more. My little girl has become totally all encompassing. I'm in love. I'm besotted. But I wanted to take this time to build our little family together rather than share it on this blog. To be honest, we had a bit of bumpy ride getting here, so I needed to take time to properly digest!

But I'm ready to revisit.

I'll share my birth story at another date, but when I logged in today I came across I blog left in my drafts, written on the hospital ward 5 months ago... so I thought I'd better start with that:

5th May 2017

I try not be to be a judgmental person.

I like to have a diverse range of friends, different backgrounds, genders, sexual preferences, political leanings... But having been on an antenatal ward for 5 days I have to admit that people are really starting to grate on me.

I got admitted to hospital quite suddenly last week, and since then I have been a resident of 'Ward 21' at Wexham Park Hospital in Slough.

I would like to just say that the midwives and support staff on the ward are superstars.  They see women in their rawest of moments, are supportive when the women is swearing and screaming, belligerent when the woman needs to do something different, and patient when dealing with complaints from stressed birthing partners that can't understand why their loved one isn't being prioritized.  The emotional swells that that I have seen the team react and respond to over the last 5 days would be insurmountable for the majority of people, but these ladies just take it all on the chin as part of their working day.

My view.

These ladies are part caregiver, part confidant, part customer services operative, and they deftly juggle all of these hats.

So how can it be that some people take it on to themselves to be plain rude to these hard grafting women (all the midwives on the ward are ladies, no generalizing here!)? I've seen midwives sworn at, bullied and threatened. And not at women in the throes of labour, which I could partly excuse, but by men and women who feel that they somehow deserve more, or better than what they are getting.

Of course childbirth, and becoming a parent can be a terrifying experience for a lot of couples, you're caught in an emotional swirl that you can't escape. You're on a train and you can't jump off until it reaches that inevitable station.  As a heavily pregnant woman, you are both amazingly powerful and powerless. But it is also a leveler.  And there is no reason that you should take it out on the midwifery staff.

So I just wanted to say, because I'm sure people don't say it enough: Team, you guys rock.

What do baby's movements feel like?

Today marks the mid point of pregnancy Week 34. So for me somewhere between 4-5 weeks before we meet our little one (I'm having a planned C-Section due to Major Placenta Previa, but that story is for another day).   When I was 5 weeks pregnant I didn't even know about our little Pickett's existence... which is when I realise just how few days are separating our lives from totally transforming into something very new. Five weeks is not very long at all...

As I've been getting bigger, I've had the odd person put their hand on my bump. I know some ladies really hate it but, for me at least, it's not something that has happened regularly, or particularly intrusively - it's just one of those things. And Pickett tends to be quite contrary - if they get a sniff that someone might want them to move, they freeze.

I've also had a number of people ask me what it feels like to have a little one growing inside you, and what a good-old-baby-kick feels like.  I feel proud to be part of the club of women who have experienced this, but I'm sure that it other ladies will know what I mean when I say that it's hard to explain... particularly to someone who has no sense of comparison.  How would you explain what a cough feels like?  Or a sneeze?  It's just one of those things that as you grow up you start to associate with the action.  Baby movements are similar - as your bump grows you start to realise all those little flutters were something a whole lot more important than trapped wind...

But, where as an itch is an itch, and generally feels the same wherever on the body it appears, what I've come to realise is that 'baby kicking' does not mean just one thing.  There are a variety of different sensations that I experience, and that I have learnt to associate with the little life in my tummy:

The Drummer

- What: A good solid thwack to the middle of my abdomen. 

 

I was a very active teenager, with an impressive social life of clubs and activities.  Monday was Guides, Thursday was Drama, and Wednesdays was Marching Band (I've heard all the 'Band Camp' jokes... you can stop right there! ;) ).  To be honest my spell in the Marching Band wasn't my finest - I tried my hand at colourguard (that's pompoms and flags to the uninitiated), discovered I wasn't naturally a brass player eventually saving everyone's eardrums by getting braces and moving on the Glockenspiel... but the team I always secretly wanted to join were the drummers.  With their big bass drums I loved the sound that these boys (I can't recall any girls in the drumming section) made as we marched.  And now, in a strange way I feel part of that club... sometimes Pickett's movements seem to make the whole of my tummy vibrate - like when a drummer hits a kick drum, and you can almost feel the vibration across the taught skin.  I tend to experience these as solid isolated movements - so for someone wanting to feel the baby kick they need to strike it lucky and really be in the right place at the right time if you want to feel Pickett's Drumming.  Maybe they will take up my secret desire to be a drummer one day...

The Snowflake Kiss

- What: Small little movements that can be anywhere over my tummy

Some people would probably call these nudges.  These always make me smile.  They aren't necessarily shocking, and to me much more like a little greeting, a little hand reaching out for attentions: "Hi Mum, don't forget about me!"  It reminds me just how lucky I am to have been able to experience this closeness, and what a gift pregnancy is - in our case, it's long fought for, and very much wanted.  In a strange way, these little bumps remind me of the feeling of when the first snowflakes fall, and gently melt away on your cheek.  Yes, I do realise how smushy and romanticised that sounds, but there is something about that feeling that is both a reminder and a promise.

The Humpback Bridge

- What: A full on flip of the tummy

When I was a little girl I used to visit my grandparents every Sunday.  They lived in a village a few minutes drive from my parent's house, so every weekend I'd sit in the back of the car and my Mum and Dad would drive us the very familiar route to their home.  On the outskirts of that village was a little humpback bridge that I remember vividly - not only did it signify that we were close to Nanny and Grumps' House, but I learned to love the tummy-flipping feeling that cresting that bridge would cause.  My grandparents sadly passed away, and as a result I've not been on that road for years, but our little Pickett has been making me think of those Sunday journeys often... Every once in a while our little one seems to summersault, clearly practicing some form of gymnastics or synchronised swimming,  for a split second I'm transported back to the feeling I got on that bridge - like I've  somehow continued to move forward but have managed to leave my tummy behind on the other bank.

 The Too-Tight-Jeans

- What: A growing sense of pressure pushing outwards

When you're pregnant you get used to the idea that nothing really fits.  Or if you do manage to wriggle in to something it will feel very different than you expected. Leggings, and maternity jeans become your new best friend.  You look forward to warmer weather and the excuse to dig out the old maxi-dresses, because those bad boys have so much material that they cover even the biggest of swelling bumps.  With this movement I'm forced to reflect on bad wardrobe choices.  For me it only happens occasionally, but when it does it's quite uncomfortable.  Not painful, just 'bulky.'  I would presume that Pickett is probably having a good old stretch and pushes the bottom of a belly outwards.  I feel a constant regular pressure outwards (not downwards, which I'm lead to believe is much more common for labour!), just like when you're wearing your skinniest of jeans and go and eat too much lunch.  Only this time you haven't got access to the instant relief of popping open a button!

The Snake

- What: When baby wiggles past

Pickett isn't much of a mover really.  Quite happy floating around in their watery armchair.  But every-so-often they go on a bit of an explore (or at least that's how I like to imagine it).  A little adventurer  sidling off to the other side of my womb just to see what the view is like from over there... and the result is this amazing sense of sideways movement.  Sometimes my whole stomach ungulates as Pickett checks out the most comfortable position.  When you're sat their quietly with you hand on your tummy, there is something very bizarre about feeling movement sideways - I can't think of anything that naturally internally moves left to right or right to left.  If any of the baby-moves reminded me of a little alien, then it's got to be this one.

There is something magical about feeling your baby move inside you.  Whether you're at home, in the bath, delivering a presentation, at the supermarket, for that microsecond that you feel that movement your brain snaps back to your little one.  That's special - and a constant reminder that I'm truly very lucky to have had this experience. 

What are your experiences? What would you compare baby movements to?  How would you explain it to someone?

Bath Thermae Spa: Watsu when Pregnant - Review

Things have been a bit rocky recently. For the last few months I've struggled. Not so much physically, but with this constant swell of pregnancy emotions that feel like they are battering me from all sides.

So Hubby and I decided that it would do us both good to have some time away. Away from work emails, from painting the nursery, from the need to visit Ikea, again, and away from the constant merry go round of hospital appointments...

The long Easter weekend came along at just the right time so we planned a couple of days in the beautiful city of Bath. It was just what we needed - time to disconnect, to be a couple, to recharge our batteries, a mini-babymoon... and what could be better for that than a trip to Bath Thermae Spa?

I've been lucky enough to go to the spa on a couple of occasions but never with Hubby - and he was insistent that I indulged in a treatment whilst we were there. Being 33 weeks pregnant, there aren't that many treatments to pick from, but after a long chat with the reservations team I plumped for something called 'Pregnancy Watsu.'

I gathered it had something to do with water, and being moved around... to be honest I was more than a bit sceptical. I can move myself around in water thanks very much, in fact that's what is been doing already in the spa that day, so paying an extra £65 (gulp!) to have someone move me around seemed excessive. I was definitely on the fence.

But in the end, it turned out to be possibly one of the most beautiful experiences I have had during pregnancy.

You enter a private pool along with your therapist, they add a couple of floats to your legs for added bouyancy and then you spend the next 50 minutes cradled, like a baby, in their arms in the warm mineral waters. Yes, I know how this sounds. Really bloomin' odd... But it's also truly beautiful.

With my ears under the water, and my eyes closed I spent my 50 minutes in almost a meditative state - seeing only the gentle pink light filtering through my eyelids, hearing only the sound of the water supporting my body, feeling the gentle ripples tickling my skin as the therapist slowly tugged me through the water and gently moved my relaxing limbs, I became  more aware of my body than I have been for months - the strange almost alien pregnancy body felt like something I could connect with again.

And our little bump seemed to feel the same way too. My tummy was dancing. It was like we were both floating together in our little safe watery cocoons, and Pickett wanted to show their appreciation by being incredibly active. It really was like we were sharing something together and bonding. Our first piece of family time.

The more I relaxed, the more movement I felt, and I know that should probably not surprise me. But for someone who isn't used to relaxing, who is constantly on the go and practically hard wired into work emails, this was precisely what I needed. Not 50 minutes focused on myself, but 50 minutes focused on my baby. Not what we needed to do/buy/make before their arrival, but just quality time focusing on what it must be like for that little life inside my tummy.

So would I recommend Watsu?

Most definitely. Yes, okay, so being in a private pool with your eyes closed and essentially having different 'cuddles' with a total stranger does take a while to get used to, and I've no idea what it's like if you're not pregnant... but for me it was a truly magical experience. Exactly what I needed.

I left the pool feeling very at peace, and with every pleasant emotion related to our baby absolutely jangling. I felt overwhelmingly in love with my child.

Somehow my baby and I felt really tethered together beyond our obvious physical connections... My one regret is that it's not something that Hubby could experience. I would love to share that sense of commitment, and love for our little family with him.

This post has not been written in collaboration with Bath Thermae Spa or any other third party.  No incentive has been received for writing this post and is completely based on my own experiences and thoughts.

WEEK 31: Three Days. Three Hospital Visits

We'll  chalk this week up to experience. It's been a bit full on in one way or another...

At my 20 week scan they'd noticed my placenta was a bit on the low side, so on Tuesday I had a scan appointment to see whether there had been any change in 11 weeks.

Hubby was particularly excited to see our little (*strange bump nickname alert*) "Pickett" again.

Turned out our darling little one isn't quite so little...

The scan showed a very tall baby. Not 'big' but Pickett's legs in particular are on the lengthy side. Also baby seems to be in the totally wrong position. And has apparently  been enjoying a swimming pool of amniotic fluid (we're almost double what you should have - no wonder I'm developing a waddle!). Okay, so these things aren't ideal but I didnt care - It was magical to feel the baby somersault around, and to simultaneously see it on the screen.  Something I will never forget I'm sure.

Oh, and the placenta? We've nick named it the Great Wall. There's no way that thing is likely to budge.

The consultants were great. They explained things to us. A ceasarean is likely, they wanted to do lots more tests because of the water volume and Pickett's size, to make sure that both I and the baby are well.

So Wednesday saw me back at hospital for my tests. 7 vials of blood,  1 super sweet drink, and 2 hours of waiting later we were finally sent on our merry way with the information that someone would call us the next day to let me know whether the results showed any sign of gestational diabetes or infection, and that, regardless, they'd see me in a couple of weeks for a follow up.

But then when I was at work on Thursday I had a little bleed.

I'd only been told on Tuesday that this could happen and that if it did I should call for advice. It wasn't much, so nearly dismissed it... But I figured a quick telephone call wouldn't hurt.

I called the Maternity Assessment Clinic (MAC) from a corner office at work expecting advice along the lines of 'keep an eye on it," or "We'll make a note on the system." The line was engaged the first few times, so again I nearly gave up and went back to my desk. It was more pink discharge than blood really.

Instead what I was told was to grab some things together and to come straight in...

A colleague offered to drive me to the hospital. Hubby was reached at work, and scrambled to go back home, pack a bag (Yes, I know we probably should have already done that!) and then meet me at the hospital. 30 mins later I was sat in a tiny, but rather warm,  (and packed) waiting room.

I was seen quickly. I was clearly prioritsed over some of the others waiting there. I explained again that it was only a slight bleed. And it had pretty much died down. But they were having none of it. My placenta previa is "major" meaning that the whole placenta is blocking the cervix. I'm at risk of sudden significant  bleeds  that would be dangerous for both me and the baby. They wanted to check us thoroughly.

Blood pressure, temperature, urine test, ECG, medical history, internal exam (where they thought for a moment that my waters had gone...), swabs, scan. They threw everything they could at me to check the situation.

We had three doctors in our tiny cubicle at one point. It felt excessive. They reassured me that it was not. Calling and coming in was absolutely the right thing. They checked the blood test results from the previous day, elevated sugar levels, but still normal and nothing too concerning (I breathe a sigh of relief there when I discovered one of the infections they checked for was syphilis!).  After 4 hours they decided they were happy to let me go. I was fine, Pickett was fine. My cervix was closed. The bleeding had stopped. Probably caused by slight hormone surge.

Huge sigh of relief. Honestly I couldn't value the NHS more at this point. The care I've had has been amazing.

The challenge now is that the doctors recommended that I am not ever left by myself in case I needed to immediately come into hospital.  Not hugely practical as we don't have family in the area but I'm sure we'll cope.

I feel fine, so went back to work yesterday.  I've had a chat with my boss so he's aware of the situation and that there's a chance I might suddenly need to down tools and go.

I started this week with a simple scan appointment and ended up in the hospital 3 days in a row. Each time understanding more and more of my situation.  I can't thank the Maternity teams enough. Where as I was dismissive they were responsive and systematic.

I'm pleased to be in their care.

I have another scan in 2 weeks where I think they might make the decision on what to do next. But in the meantime Hubby is doing an excellent  job of looking after me.

Even though it seens that things have got a bit more complicated for us, strangely I  now feel more confident about the birth. I have to trust in my care team.

The other positive thing to come out of this week is that it's made us pull our finger out and get some baby bits together.... We went straight from the hospital to Sainsburys to pick up some baby grows... just in case!

"Do you know what you're having?"

"When are you due?"

"How are you feeling?"

It's like these questions are hard wired into the brain ready to pop out whenever you're faced with a pregnant woman. I'm just as guilty - I find out a lady is expecting and these questions come unbidden to my tongue, and are suddenly out of my mouth without any involvement of my brain.

So now the shoe is on the other foot, I thought I'd take a moment to reflect. Do I mind when people ask? Hand on heart. Honestly. No, not one bit. It just means a lot that people care. The question itself really isn't what is important - it's just acting as to telegraph the fact that they are interested, and want to offer even the smallest amount of support.

What is funny though, is when people get an answer to one of these questions that doesn't quite conform to the 'usual' answer - something that they weren't quite expecting... an example:

Kind hearted soul: "So, do you know what you're having?"

Us: "Yes, we do. We're having a.... baby."

Hubby and I made the decision relatively early that we wanted to know our little one's gender. Not so we could colour scheme or really plan names, but it just helps us to be that little bit closer to, and to bond with that little life busily growing in my belly. 

We also came to the decision quite easily, that if we did find out, we didn't want a big gender reveal (and certainly nothing like they do in the US and have a full blown party) - in fact, we agreed that if we could, we wanted to keep this little tiny piece of our son or daughter to ourselves.  Because gender to us, really doesn't matter.

My mum was shocked by this, and originally was positive we'd let slip - but we've known for nearly 3 weeks now and we're happily swapping around pronouns, continuing to use our pre-gender nickname ("Pickett" - after a little Bowtrunkle with attachment issues in Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them (said once as a joke but it just sorta stuck)), and it's had the added bonus of preventing our parents going mad and buying cupboards full of pink/blue clothes. Now I'm all for a spot of pink/blue, but I'm also looking forward to dressing my little one in red, black, grey, yellow and green. 

Life is better with a splash of variety after all.

A bit of an update: Two become three

So, here's the thing.

I've not been entirely truthful.  It's not so much a lie, but an omission.  I've been using this blog as a diary on and off for the past few years, and those of you who have followed my journey may recall the reason I was "Learning Early."

You see, back in 2012 I discovered I was pregnant.  I made the decision, practically on day one, to blog my journey, and all the lessons I would learn as a first time mum... the disposable/reusable nappy debate, selecting a push chair, whether we'd agree to skip the gender reveal and stay Team Yellow... How naive I was.  I had some other, much harder lessons to learn first.

I miscarried my first pregnancy at 7 weeks.

There was the physical and emotional pain that followed, the snubbing out of a future that had been so clear in our minds.  It evaporated like mist.

It would take us four years and surgery for endometriosis to get pregnant again, but sadly this second little life decided not to stay with us, and I was confirmed to have had a missed miscarriage at my 12 week scan in March 2016 - just days before my 30th birthday.  Part of me thought I was more prepared, I knew what to expect, I'd been there before... I was wrong.  Just as each life I carried was different, so was the process I went through to grieve them.

"It wasn't meant to be."

"Your time will come."

"There must have been something wrong"

Kind words, but they felt like razor blades - these were my children.  They would never be named, never get a nursery, but each one would stay with me.

So when hubby and I discovered last September that we were expecting again, we dared not get excited.  We held hands as we looked at the little plastic stick on the side of the wash basin and took a deep breath, already starting to build up those protective walls should the worst happen again.

Well, here we are, a few months on, and the worst hasn't happened.   I little wriggly thing that I've seen on a sonographer's screen and that has been given top marks by all the doctors so far.  We're 22 weeks along - over half way - and this morning hubby got to join in by feeling our child tap on my tummy.

So it felt that the time was right to come clean - We've braved the Mothercare Sales,  I'm wearing maternity clothes.  There's a box in our spare room that contains a buggy.

We're expecting a baby.

 

Pregnancy and Infant Loss - Wave of Light Remembrance: My Story

Yesterday social media filled up with photographs of candles. Whether they were tealights, pillars, or lanterns, each light shone in solidarity, remembering those little lives that burned so brightly and we're extinguished far too soon.

The pain of infant loss is hard to describe. When I started this blog I thought I was starting on the road to motherhood. As soon as that little blue line appears, your whole mindset changes. You think of a future as a mum, and you think of the baby inside you, and you see you're future in a whole new way - 'pregnant' equals 'mum'.

Who would have thought that 4 years later I'm no further forward. To the external world I am not a mum. I have no baby pictures to show, no anecdotes or funny stories. All we have are 2 scan reports that found no heart beat. That's hardly going to make it onto the Facebook page.

But to me we are parents. But it's a label that we hold close to our heart, quietly. Because loss before life isn't something the world is comfortable with.

You look at social media, and people paint their perfect worlds: smiling families, days out, nights with friends - we all share our best sides. That makes the sad things in life all the more isolating. I see friends happily announce they are expecting, or see their little ones grow, and hubby and I remember the 2 babies we've lost.  I don't look at our friends enviously (okay, maybe a bit) we are genuinely pleased with their news - it's just also a reminder of the little hands we could have held

I don't hide the fact I've had 2 miscarriages. If people ask if we have kids, I explain that things haven't been straightforward.  I've told a number of friends, I'm not ashamed, I think we should all be more vocal about these things. There is no shame or fault, or blame. It just is.

But at the same time I don't publicise it. I don't want to force my sad story on other people. That's why my scan reports stay filed away, and eccentric why I didn't document our second pregnancy, and then loss on this blog.  Maybe with my first pregnancy I was naive. I just didn't think of the possibility that things wouldn't end well.  But I also don't want to bring anyone else down. I don't want to crack that veneer of perfection that we create around ourselves online... and so I too feed the taboo around miscarriage.

So, to all those parents of lost children out there: you're not alone. I send each and everyone of you a hug, a hand on your shoulder. We shouldn't hide away, we should remember.  Life isn't perfect and we should pretend otherwise.

Love to you all.

(Re)Starting

I've not blogged for a good long while. There's no real excuse. First work got in the way, then life got in the way, and then, to be honest I just forgot...

But some things shouldn't be forgotten. It's only when you look back that you realise how much you could be missing out on by not pausing to reflect, and capture that moment.

This blog was first started back in 2012 when a little pink line on a little white stick told me something about myself that I somehow hadn't registered: just how much I wanted to have a family.  Now, that time, as with a quarter of all pregnancies, it turned out that it wasn't meant to beand since then I've focused on carving out a name for myself in my chosen career whilst simultaneously exploring medical routes for why our quest to start a family might be being hampered.

Generally 2015 was a good one for me. I won a few industry awards professionally, I rejoined Slimming World and lost 3.5 stone, and I finally found a doctor who would listen to me...

Back in May last year I had fairly major surgery for a endometriosis. It's a horrible condition that can really limit the women who have it including menstrual pain so severe you pass out. But it's pretty misunderstood by the medical profession (it took me nearly 10 years of fighting to even get a referral to a gyne), you get told what you're feeling is normal, nothing shows up on MRIs or ultrasounds, so you can be left thinking its all in your head.

Thankfully I found a great surgeon who totally believed me. After a nearly 4 hour operation she confirmed my endometriosis diagnosis, and explained that my uterus, bowel, overies and appendix were all stuck together in a big mass of scar-like tissue.  I have a video of the surgery (not one for dinnertime viewing!) and it looks like a small army of spiders have been crawling around inside, leaving web trails behind them, gluing everything together. It was eye opening stuff. Finally it wasn't just in my head.

The surgeon explained that it was severe endometriosis, and was very extensive. She removed a lot of the 'webs' but broke the news that the damage to my fallopian tubes from being stuck and pulled and stretched was significant. Pregnancy could be an issue.

So I figured that at the start of a new year it was the right time to start refocusing, and looking this year not on career, but on family. Its not an easy road, but realistically I'm sure it never is. Now isn't the perfect time (hubby isn't working) but realistically I'm not sure there ever is. The thing is I'm ready to to take the first steps.

Coming to terms with miscarriage

Last night was the end of my pregnancy.  As I had a miscarriage three weeks ago I know how strange that must sound...

When my ultrasound showed that I had lost the baby, a nurse explained what to expect next and then quietly passed me a pregnancy test to use in a week or so to confirm my pregnancy-boosted hormones had returned to normal levels.  I should have used that test over a week ago.  The little packet sat on the side, but I couldn't bring myself to take the test - I knew that once I saw a singular line it would really all be over.

I finally got that confirmation last night when I took a deep breath, grabbed the foil packet and headed to the bathroom.

But the thing is, in the last three weeks I've learnt a lot about myself, about my body, and about other people's attitudes towards miscarriage.  I'm in a good place now, I've come to terms with what happened.  I know it wasn't anything that I did, but just a very tragic thing that happens quite commonly.  But I've also realised how much of a taboo it is.

When I miscarried I realised I didn't know anyone else who had been through the same experience.  I have a couple of friends who are pregnant/have had children before, but I didn't know anyone I could turn to to discuss my emotions about how my body had failed the little life Hubby and I had made.  Although I had family around me I felt completely alone.

That's why I've made the decision not to hide my miscarriage.  I'm not shouting it from the roof tops, nor am I walking around with it emblazoned on a tshirt, but now that I have made peace with it, I want to make sure that my young female friends know that should it ever happen to them (I hope it never does), that they can talk to me.   Once I started sharing my story, first with a couple of close friends, an then the situation arose where I found myself telling a couple of colleagues, I've been amazed by how many people have quietly experienced the same grief, and I can't help but think it would have helped me hugely to know that at the time.

I'm sure that this might sound strange to some people - early pregnancy is very much a private affair - but I hope that by sharing my story I might be able to help other ladies.

Remember:  You are not alone. 

Review: Original Theraline Maternity and Nursing Pillows

A few weeks ago I was suffering with a terribly achy back and was feeling very sorry for myself, so when I heard about the Original Theraline Maternity and Nursing Pillows which, according the website, is designed to support tired backs and limbs by shaping around the body I couldn't help but wonder if they could provide me with some relief.  No longer being pregnant, I recognise that I'm not really Theraline's key audience, but as my bad back still hasn't shifted, the lovely PRs people at PJP PR offered to send me a pillow to see if it would help.

I have a tilted uterus, which causes my period pain to seem to emanate from my kidneys.  So every month I trawl around our flat, looking for cushions and pillows in order to create enough of stack to support my back and sides.  It's an art I've almost perfected now - carefully balancing the cushions into one corner of our dated sofa so that I can sit with my legs up and still be supported.  But it just takes a little bit of wriggling for one for the pillows to be dislodged, or slip down the sofa cushions... which means I have to build my nest again from scratch.  So I was looking forward to whether the Theraline cushion could simplify those evenings when I just want to curl up and read a book on the sofa.

 When the Theraline pillow arrived I was pleasantly surprised by the tasteful cover - knowing that it was designed for pregnancy and beyond I was a little concerned that the design might be garish, but I genuinely liked the modern flower designs and was delighted to discover that the cover was also completely removable too - and for a klutz like me that is hugely important.  I'm sure it won't be long before I drip tea on the white sections...

The pillow is shaped like on over-large boomerang, and come with a sheet of basic instructions to help a new owner work out how it can be used, which is essentially only limited by your imagination.  The lightweight microbeads shape themselves around your body so if you're laying it can be used as a pillow/prop to stop you rolling onto your back, it can be used to support your legs, or my favourite, to support your back and shoulders if you're in a seated position.

 Since the pillow arrived I've not been able to settle down to read my book without it.  I no longer have to stack cushions on the sofa, or fold over pillows to elevate my head in bed - the Theraline pillow has sorted that for me.

I'm so enamoured that the Hubby has threatened to hide the Pillow so I can't use it all the time - he's worried that I won't be able to sleep without it!



The Theraline Original Maternity and Nursing Pillow comes in a range of cover designs, with prices starting at £44.95.

Disclosure: I was sent the Pillow for the purposes of this review, however all opinions expressed are my own and are honest.

Miscarriage: Don't mention the war.

I missed a call yesterday afternoon from an unknown number.  Luckily the caller left a message.

It was a lovely lady named Lynn, calling from "the clinic.". She wanted to make sure "everything" was okay, after "last week.". And if I wanted to "chat" I could call her "office."

Part of me I felt for a moment that I was in a dumbed down version of the Da Vinci Code, with a secret language to crack... The other part just wanted to giggle at the carefully constructed message.

I completely understand that leaving a voicemail you have to be careful you're reaching the right person when discussing medical matters, and that some topics of conversation can be deeply upsetting.  It is important to be discrete and sensitive and I don't doubt for a second that's what was intended.

 
Lynn is the lovely senior nurse at the Early Pregnancy Clinic of my local hospital, and she would have no idea how I was dealing with my loss and so her message was carefully phrased so not to cause any upset.
I really appreciated the call to check out how I was doing.  After weeks of shuttle runs to hospital and the doctors it's nice to know that someone cares after it's all over.

The message really did make me smile, partly because it was nice to hear that someone medical was still interested in me, but also in part because of the length that she went to to avoid any mention of "pregnancy" or "miscarriage" - it seemed straight out of Fawlty Towers!

"For God's sake. Don't mention babies!"

Miscarriage is a very personal thing, and from conversations I've had people deal with it in very different ways. But for me, I'm ready to face the reality.

For everyone who has been in this situation, I'm sending you much love.

Thank you: The road to recovery

It's been a hard few days for Hubby and I. It's not just the physical impact of miscarriage, or even the grief of losing the baby itself, we've had to come to terms with the fact that all the things we'd started to plan just aren't going to happen - certainly not straight away anyway.

I can't put into words just how wonderful people have been. Offering support, space and kind words as Hubby and I have hidden away from the world. Within hours of me breaking my heart-shattering news to my boss, they'd sent my a bunch of flowers. Obviously flowers don't lessen the pain, but just knowing you're in other people's thoughts reminds you that the world is still turning.

We still need to take the time and replan our future, but for now at least it's great to know we have great friends supporting us. 

Thank you.

The End.

When I started this blog my intention was to talk about my early learnings.

Today I learnt the hardest lesson of all - sometimes it's possible to dream too early...

The Hubby and I are clinging to each through the tempest of emotion that swirls around us - we are no longer expecting a baby.

Hubby and I need to take some time together to grieve, and to pick up the pieces of our shattered dream, so this is me signing off for a while.

Much love x

A very self indulgent post

I feel very sorry for myself.

I always imagined pregnancy to be this wonderfully special time.  My body is making a new life, it's doing something completely natural and magical.  So why on earth do I feel like someone has chewed me up and spat out a crumpled saliva-soaked mess?

I knew pregnancy would be uncomfortable. Lots of peeing, back ache, potential headaches, and that's before the sleepless nights post labour. But I didn't think I would be in agony.  Certainly not at 7 weeks.

I have a tilted uterus, which as it is growing, rather than pushing on my bladder like the majority of people, my inflating womb is pushing on my tail bone. And it bloomin' hurts.

1 in 4 ladies is like me and has a uterus that's a little bit wonky, and my sympathy goes out to all those ladies that experience this pain. It's like constant toothache, but in your backside and not position brings relief. I've not slept properly for the past three nights, the pain keeping me firmly in the waking world. During that time I've tried everything I can think of: laying in bed, on the sofa, on the sofa bed, with my legs in the air, on the wall, in the bath, sitting in a hard chair, in an armchair, on the floor... But nothing.

I tried to go to work this morning hoping that the daily goings-on of the office might distract me from the constant ache.  But I couldn't even make it to the motorway. To be honest by the time I got home I would have been surprised if I could tell you which way was up...

So back again I went to the doctor. For someone like me who is usually pretty healthy (*touches nearest wooden object*) three trips to the doctor in a week is unheard of.  But I now have some stronger painkillers (not that I wanted to take any in my first trimester) and confirmation about what I can and can't do.

I've spent the day curled up with a hot water bottle, trying to formulate a plan for the drive to work tomorrow...

I just really hope this sorts itself out soon. :(

Self indulgent post over.

The One Where I'm Rushed To A&E

I have to apologize for my blog silence for the last few days. It seems that Tuesdays are sent to try me...

Earlier in the week I noticed that my back was starting to ache. We've been moving desks at work, so at first I put it down to a little too much bending and lifting. Then on Tuesday the spotting that I've been suffering for the last week started to get heavier. Then by Tuesday evening I huddled on the sofa with strong period-like pains and I was bleeding. 

I had a fretful night. My back aching, my stomach cramping.

I ended up being rushed to A&E yesterday morning...

The doctors were great.  They were clear to me from the beginning that there was a possibility I was miscarrying, but they listened to my heart, lungs, felt my abdomen and took blood in order to rule out other possibilities. I was lucky as the A&E doctor persuaded the gynecology department to squeeze me in for an emergency scan to check the status of my pregnancy.

They insisted I was delivered to my scan by wheelchair, and by the time I arrived in the department I was tagged, canularised and robed in a hospital gown - sticking out like a sore thumb amongst all the normally attired parents-to-be who were there for there pre-booked routine scans.

My scan was done by the gynecology consultant. Luckily, for me, he had no Junior Doctors available so was having to get a little more hands-on than was usual. 

He too prepared us for the worst. As we answered some routine questions I couldn't help but notice that on the shelf in the treatment room was a stack of leaflets about First Trimester Miscarriage.  It was strange, as I lay on the table ready for my scan, I prepared for bad news.

But there, on the screen, flickering like the light of a determined little candle was my baby.  Tiny, only 6mm in size, but definitely there, and with a strong heartbeat - clearly not being bothered by the strange bleeding I was experiencing. 

I never thought I'd be one of those people who welled up at the first sight of their baby on a monitor, and I didn't, but there was something about watching that little wriggly blob that was hypnotic.  For the first time I really realized that there was another life inside me.

The consultant says that the bleeding and the pain is probably "just one of those things" - and part if me is just not surprised. Nothing is ever straightforward with me! The important thing is that my little panda is looking strong. And I've just got to cross my fingers that this  continues.

Oh, and apparently my dates were slightly off as well, so I'm once again back in week 6. 

Oh well - I guess no one is perfect!

Saving for a new arrival

As a nipper I remember being taken to the cinema to see Baby's Day Out, a film where a baby, for some convoluted reason ends up all by himself in a big city. Think Home Alone, but a lot younger.

I remember thinking that if I ever became a parent, although I'd never leave my child to fend for themselves in a big city, I did want to make sure my littluns were as happy as the baby in that film.

But I know that, even if I'm frugal, I'll need to find the money to make that happen.  I've not even started making a list of all the things we're going to need... A buggy, a car seat, a cot... But I can almost see the pound signs dancing in front of my eyes.

Luckily there's Christmas between now and my due date, so I'm hoping that I can ask for some baby focused items then. I've also mentally pencilled in cloth nappies to reduce expense, and I'm even trying to save some pennies now by saving an extra few pounds each month in an attempt to spread the cost...

But if anyone has any futher tips on how I can prepare, financially, for our little panda's arrival it would be great to hear them.

What is "normal"

I'm tired. I feel like I've spent the last few days hiking through rough ground; every part of my body feels exhausted.

But then, it has been an emotional couple of days all in all.

I've read a fair bit recently on what a "normal" pregnancy is, what hiccups can happen, and what to look out for.   I have to wonder whether all that reading can be counter intuitive.  And you start seeing things that may not be there. I've not experienced much morning sickness for example... Does that mean my pregnancy hormones are low?  Am I not sleeping enough? Should I eat more bananas?

Then on Monday afternoon I had some spotting.  I tried not to be concerned.  I was in no pain and I'd read somewhere that was normal in early pregnancy, but actually seeing blood where you don't expect there to be any is always concerning. So I called the doctors... And I was rushed in for an emergency scan yesterday morning.

The Hubby and I couldn't help but worry. I even stupidly referred to Doctor Google... My emotions swung dramatically when after pages of reading I determined that either everything was normal or I was miscarrying.  I didn't know what to think. So as Hubby and I waited for the sonographer I had to keep beating off waves of nausea - and once again not caused by morning sickness.

The sonographer reminded me of an old school dinner lady, determined to get her job done and me out quickly. I'm sure she is nice enough, but as she was having a good poke around, there was no time for pleasantries. About the most she said was "you can get your knickers on."

Regardless of her blunt nature thankfully the sonographer said everything is normal. Although they can't see our baby yet, the egg sack is a good size, shape and in the right location. Everything is as expected for 6 weeks.

I'm still bleeding. Slightly. And as they can't see a baby yet, there's no heartbeat to confirm. So they've asked me to go back again in a fortnight to see if there have been any changes.

My pregnancy symptoms might be few and far between (apparently that can be normal too...), but what ever is happening we should have some type of confirmation in two weeks.

In the meantime I just have to hope everything keeps ticking along, well, normally.

Uncertainty

Sometimes things don't quite go to plan do they?

I'm not good with uncertainty. And things are a little uncertain at the moment. The doctors have me booked in for a scan tomorrow to check everything is okay.

I have always said it was early days, I just hope that this is a little blip in the road.

Blood isn't always thicker than water

They say planning the seating plan at a wedding is one of the most stressful situations - trying to balance two families and their relevant feuds for long enough for everyone to survive a single meal is enough to drive you potty... However I'd take on that challenge ten times over than dealing with the wrestling match that is sharing the news that we're expecting.

Our parents and siblings of course came first. The Hubby and I then decided to keep things quiet. No need to shout the news from the rooftops just in case...  The problem is neither Hubby nor I live too close to our families. Our support network is made up of a small group of fantastic friends, but trying to explain why we feel it's important they know over other family members, for example, takes me right back to wedding planning.

Of course our family's understand why we want certain people to know our news, but I can't help but feel guilty that blood can't always come first.  There are some people that, if by some horrible turn of events something goes wrong, I know will be right at our sides. And not all of those magnificent people are family.

Friends are the family you choose for yourself after all.