Standing in Tesco beside the very pregnant lady who is challenged by her trolley of food and by her lively toddler who is obviously going through the terrible twos! ‘When are you due?’ asks the inquisitive cashier. ‘Two weeks to go now…the 11th of February’ replies the very worn out pregnant lady. The 11th of February (I repeat in my head) …It just WOULD be the 11th of February. My due date too but our baby died at 13 weeks and 4 days. Why did I have to stand here in this shop…in this aisle…in Limerick today? Why did I travel to Limerick at all today and bump (no pun intended) into this conversation? Why did this hit me like a tonne of bricks when I thought I had dealt with this? I really felt so stupid standing there welling up, trying to hide my tears from the cashier and my husband. Thank goodness Victoria Beckham made sunglasses fashionable in winter!
So was that 5 minutes of torture standing in that queue listening to that conversation part of God’s plan too? Don’t get me started on God’s plan with people telling me that it was ‘God’s plan’ that caused me to so traumatically loose my baby. People telling me ‘ that it’s just for the best and that there must have been something terribly wrong with THAT baby’. Surely as my (lovely and now sadly deceased) father highlighted …’ We would have loved the baby just as much if there was something ‘wrong’ with him or her. I know for a fact that OUR precious baby would have been cherished, accepted, valued and LOVED for sure. Someone insensitively remarked that I was very lucky that ‘it’ happened then and not later or indeed after. I wouldn’t consider myself lucky that it happened at 13 weeks and 4 days and I don’t think my grief could be any worse if it was earlier or later. Grief isn’t comparable. It’s individual. This is something I never thought I would say or indeed believe and maybe the reason for the insensitivity surrounding miscarriage is that you really don’t know what it’s like until you experience it.
I soon found out that Mothers of miscarried babies are not supposed to talk about their experience. Why are miscarriages kept top secret and private? Why do we not disclose that we’ve had a miscarriage when it’s certainly one of the few times in our lives when we certainly need support? From my experience grief following a miscarriage is not considered appropriate. It’s obvious that I’m not to mention my miscarriage or my heartache regarding my loss …Despite it being real and raw heartache.
I’ve learned a lot as a result of my miscarriage. I know exactly what age my baby would be now and no doubt every mother who has miscarried a baby is the same. I’ve learned too that people often ask about personal family planning but gasp when you tell them that you’ve had a miscarriage! I don’t see the difference! If you are being inquisitive about a persons private life then expect the details. Even our employment legislation dismisses miscarriage. I’m entitled to 3 days sick leave! 3 days sick leave and all is supposed to be back to normal – physically and emotionally… 3 days?
So where did it all begin? A lovely surprise pregnancy and hugely welcomed. Everything done right ..no coffee, no alcohol, no hair dye, no cats, no under cooked eggs, no coleslaw and all other potential teratogens were eliminated and avoided. Folic acid and omega 3 were well absorbed at this stage plus a very healthy lifestyle from the beginning and before! A relaxing month on holiday in the sun- not feeling great with typical pregnancy symptoms but certainly delighted to think that our pregnancy was progressing as it should be. After a relaxing day at the beach I felt really unwell. My head was pounding and ‘morning’ sickness had lasted all day. ‘It’s your Hormones’- (according to the fabulous midwife whom I had frequently phoned from Spain with my neurotic questions ). No other ‘out of the ordinary’ symptoms were evident and all was ok apparently. Thank heavens! When we got home from our holiday everything seemed to be going well and boy was I delighted to be over 12 weeks pregnant so that we could now relax (a little). We had disclosed the great news of the pregnancy to my parents and sister at 8 weeks but we had decided to tell everyone else at week 14. I don’t know why we said week 14 but maybe subconsciously I knew this little person wasn’t going to get past week 14! .
Then… I spotted the tiniest amount of evidence that set alarm bells ringing …called my GP… He isn’t there… He will call me back. I rang my consultant .. Unavailable …She will also call me back..I’m panicking and am so afraid that this is the beginning of the end for my little baby. Another GP from my practice calls…Don’t worry (yeah right!), pack a bag and go straight to maternity ER room. We ‘check in’ at the desk in the hectic hospital. The staff appear pressurised and are being abused by roaring women struggling with their emotions and pain. I feel for the staff and also have huge empathy for these poor tortured women – many of whom are in ‘limbo’ just like me. I sit and wait with my husband (Bob) who is beginning to annoy me with his caring sentiments of ‘ don’t worry and are you ok?’
I’m called. Urine is infection free (pity), my blood pressure is up (unusual for someone who always suffers from LBP but of course not unusual today) I’m worrying like a REAL Mammy. I’m so concerned for my little baby. I bargain with God. I call in favours from all my deceased family members. Just please may there still be a heartbeat.
Time for scan. I’m told to bring my husband (Oh no! I’m sensing that they are concerned!). The stenographer is young, very pretty and wearing a coral coloured blouse. Funny the things you remember! She isn’t friendly and her bedside manner or lack of does nothing to relax me. ‘Are you sure you’re nearly 14 weeks?’ ( vaguely suggesting that the baby is measuring small). Of course I’m sure! I’m certain! I even know the date of ovulation, conception and implantation! I have a PhD in developmental psychology for Heaven’s sake! Another Doctor is called to verify that there is no heart beat on the screen and no heart beat in our little one’s tiny chest. They tell us that the scan they are using isn’t the best and they couldn’t be sure about the baby. I know they are trying to give us hope which really isn’t helping because I know this is over. I wish they had confirmed it for us there and then. Our baby died and I didn’t know. S/he had died a couple of weeks ago and I didn’t know and s/he didn’t want to leave me. No obvious miscarriage signs -just pregnancy symptoms easing off which I thought was because we were progressing to the second trimester. It’s a missed miscarriage apparently. It’s called a missed miscarriage…I never knew and that’s why it’s missed. In my view it’s called a ‘missed miscarriage’ because you miss that baby forever and ever.
We are advised to come back the following morning at 8am where a more detailed scan will confirm miscarriage and will delineate the next steps. Till then we are to go home and relax! I jump off the bed and thank both doctors. ‘That’s it Bobby .. We are done’ , I say to my poor shocked husband who is now a very ashen colour. ‘C’mon lets go home love’. Poor Bobby is after taking a turn for the worse and is feeling dizzy. He has to sit with his head between his knees for awhile. This makes me smile (a little). Typical grief… Text book actually …I’m good at this moment in time and can cope right now but wait till my grief kicks in… I’m going to need you then! I console him and somehow we drive home. I don’t remember that journey. I’m absolutely so upset but the stronger emotion I have is fear. I’m absolutely petrified and am dreading the next day.
Next morning we sit in a more modern room for our more detailed scan. I can’t face looking at my poor little baby on the large screen but I’ve been told s/he was all cuddled up and peaceful. It’s a huge regret that I have now. Why didn’t I look at my tiny baby? Why didn’t I ask for a scan picture? We wait to see my consultant. Apparently they need to expel the remains of my pregnancy (what a terrible thing to say). We are sent home with the most terrifying medication after deciding this was the best option at present. We buy copious amounts of maternity sanitary towels and lucozade and prepare ourselves as best we can …BUT nothing could have prepared me and indeed my husband for the absolute carnage that followed (both physically and emotionally). It wouldn’t be right for me to go in to detail but I know that only because I had the absolute amazing support from my husband I would probably have been found in a heap on our bathroom floor. He was there with me the whole time seeing things I wish we both didn’t have to see. It’s over … We flushed the ‘remains of my pregnancy’ down the loo …The remains being my adored baby. This wasn’t done by choice. It was done because we didn’t think or plan & this is another regret that I have. I could have caught my baby and buried it my garden. It’s gone ..I like to think s/he is bopping away in the sea under the stars. All gone … I’m distraught and relieved at the same time. An ultra sound at the consultants clinic a week later confirmed that ‘the remains of my pregnancy’ was now gone and everything looks healthy again with me. Now we are expected to be back to normal.
So I began my research. I’m an expert on missed miscarriage now! I’m an expert on miscarriage in general. I’m not an expert however on handling the grief associated with my miscarriage. I have found the Miscarriage Association extremely helpful in aiding my understanding and acceptance of my miscarriage and the normality of the associated grief. Having someone at the end of the phone/email that knows exactly what you are going through without doubt is truly amazing. Finding this association has allowed me to honour my baby by having his/her name included in their memorial book. I’m stronger and I’ve definitely healed …or so I thought…
So that Saturday in late January knocked me for six! My grief for this little mite is evidently still raw and that surprised me. I didn’t realise it till then (although even now I still can’t listen to Ed Sheeran’s ‘small bump’ song!). Is it because we aren’t supposed to talk about miscarriage and the associated grief? Is it because I had parked all of this or thought I had? I’ve certainly learned that it’s a taboo subject and learned not to talk about it. Is it because I’ve learned not to mention it and to dismiss it from my memory? It appears that It’s not socially acceptable to talk about miscarriage regardless of the startling statistics.
No one remembers the date we lost our baby or the date s/he was supposed to be born but why should they? Everyone has their own ‘stuff’ going on but it would be nice for (significant) others to remember (sometimes) that we lost our baby instead of asking ‘when are you going to have a baby?’ Please stop asking …
I’d love if miscarriage was appreciated for what it is- a significant and life changing loss. It’s not to be dismissed as ‘Gods will’ or ‘for the best’ or something that’s over in three days. A pregnant woman worries about and loves her baby as much as any other mother. She grieves for the baby she lost and for that baby’s future. A mother of a miscarried baby has authentic, raw and unbearable pain that evidently continues to exist in the background while life carries on.
I now understand that I can be triggered into this sadness and grief when I least expect it – even in Tesco a year later …even when I thought I was stronger and had healed. I now understand that Miscarriage grief is indeed not a lesser grief….In fact … I’ve never known grief like it …
DrJudeB Welcomes You! 