This is a post which I shall most definitely be debating whether to post or not once I have it completed. It's something so personal to me but something which has happened to so many women around the world on a daily basis. I feel as though perhaps I shouldn't talk about it, forget about it, sweep it under the carpet and return to normal life but right now I feel so numb, as though I'm in a different world from other people, I guess that's the shock but now my emotions are beginning to take over and today I feel so irritable and angry, these must be the stages of grief that everyone talks about after someone suffers a loss.
Last week was so wonderful so why did this week have to go and be so shitty? Why can't things be nice, happy and airy fairy all the time? Whoever said life was a rollercoaster definitely wasn't lying. On Sunday we celebrated my baby boys first birthday, a day of happiness and celebrations galore but then on Sunday night I noticed I was bleeding, something which wouldn't be a concern to most women but you see, I was pregnant, six weeks and three days pregnant to be exact. I didn't panic at first, I had heard of spotting, it wasn't something I experienced in my first pregnancy but I thought all would be okay, that it would be gone by the morning, but it wasn't. It continued and got heavier and cramps started and then I knew something was most definitely wrong. I had to go to the hospital emergency and wait four and half hours to be seen, something which I am so angry about. I was told when I got there that there was no doctor available in the emergency room. Now what kind of backward country doesn't have a doctor available in a maternity hospital emergency room of all places? This isn't the first time this has happened either, I visited the E.R. on two occasions with my first pregnancy and no doctor was available then either, nothing but a sick joke of a place. Unfortunately for me I had grabbed the nearest book at my disposable whilst leaving the house, Sylvia Plath's 'The Bell Jar', you do not want to read any literature of Sylvia Plath while you are already feeling depressed. After four and half hours of waiting I was told what I already knew, I had lost my baby.
I have been to the hospital again since for blood testing of my hcg levels, I didn't dream all this, my baby was definitely gone. I sobbed my heart out in that hospital cubicle with midwives and doctors offering me their condolences, I kept telling them it was okay, but really it wasn't okay at all. I don't think anyone but a pregnant woman or someone who already has children realises the joy you feel knowing you are expecting a little one. The future goes through your head, names, things you need to buy and the day you will finally meet that new little person into your life. I will now not get to do this. Stage one of my grief was pretending everything was fine, I was kept busy with my son and kept thinking everything would be fine, that this would not effect me too much, I was wrong. Stage two was crying and feeling sorry for myself, I had a right ole pity parade and I'm not sorry about it either. Stage three is today, I feel irritable and angry. I keep thinking about when I was entering the hospital and seeing two heavily pregnant women standing at the doors to the hospital in their pyjamas and robes smoking, how selfish do you have to be to smoke whilst you're that pregnant. The minute I found out I was pregnant I gave everything up that people said was bad for babies. I didn't colour my hair, eat tuna or even drink my beloved energy drinks yet these wans and they are nothing short of wans have the absolute gaul to stand outside the maternity hospital smoking lights out, give me strength! I don't know what stage four will be but I hope it's a happier stage then what I'm feeling at the moment. I feel so lonely, let down by the people who should be closest to me and ironically I just want to be left alone.
I'm trying to get on with things, concentrate on looking after my son, getting some blogging done, organising the house, anything to distract my mind. Thank God I have this wonderful little boy already who needs my full attention. I feel as though if I didn't have him things would be a lot worse. I wanted to write this incredibly personal post to let other women going through this know that I am with you, that I understand and do not think it's something that women should have to deal with privately. We are allowed to grieve for the little angels we sadly did not get a chance to meet. It's funny how love is the only emotional which can both build you up and break you down.
A poem about miscarriage by Sylvia Plath
Parliament Hill Fields
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack. Gulls have threaded the river’s mud bed back To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue, Settling and stirring like blown paper Or the hands of an invalid. The wan Sun manages to strike such tin glints From the linked ponds that my eyes wince And brim; the city melts like sugar. A crocodile of small girls Knotting and stopping, ill-assorted, in blue uniforms, Opens to swallow me. I’m a stone, a stick, One child drops a carrette of pink plastic; None of them seem to notice. Their shrill, gravelly gossip’s funneled off. Now silence after silence offers itself. The wind stops my breath like a bandage. Southward, over Kentish Town, an ashen smudge Swaddles roof and tree. It could be a snowfield or a cloudbank. I suppose it’s pointless to think of you at all. Already your doll grip lets go. The tumulus, even at noon, guargs its black shadow: You know me less constant, Ghost of a leaf, ghost of a bird. I circle the writhen trees. I am too happy. These faithful dark-boughed cypresses Brood, rooted in their heaped losses. Your cry fades like the cry of a gnat. I lose sight of you on your blind journey, While the heath grass glitters and the spindling rivulets Unpool and spend themselves. My mind runs with them, Pooling in heel-prints, fumbling pebble and stem. The day empties its images Like a cup of a room. The moon’s crook whitens, Thin as the skin seaming a scar. Now, on the nursery wall, The blue night plants, the little pale blue hill In your sister’s birthday picture start to glow. The orange pompons, the Egyptian papyrus Light up. Each rabbit-eared Blue shrub behind the glass Exhales an indigo nimbus, A sort of cellophane balloon. The old dregs, the old difficulties take me to wife. Gulls stiffen to their chill vigil in the drafty half-light; I enter the lit house.
A poem about miscarriage by Sylvia Plath
Parliament Hill Fields
On this bald hill the new year hones its edge. Faceless and pale as china The round sky goes on minding its business. Your absence is inconspicuous; Nobody can tell what I lack. Gulls have threaded the river’s mud bed back To this crest of grass. Inland, they argue, Settling and stirring like blown paper Or the hands of an invalid. The wan Sun manages to strike such tin glints From the linked ponds that my eyes wince And brim; the city melts like sugar. A crocodile of small girls Knotting and stopping, ill-assorted, in blue uniforms, Opens to swallow me. I’m a stone, a stick, One child drops a carrette of pink plastic; None of them seem to notice. Their shrill, gravelly gossip’s funneled off. Now silence after silence offers itself. The wind stops my breath like a bandage. Southward, over Kentish Town, an ashen smudge Swaddles roof and tree. It could be a snowfield or a cloudbank. I suppose it’s pointless to think of you at all. Already your doll grip lets go. The tumulus, even at noon, guargs its black shadow: You know me less constant, Ghost of a leaf, ghost of a bird. I circle the writhen trees. I am too happy. These faithful dark-boughed cypresses Brood, rooted in their heaped losses. Your cry fades like the cry of a gnat. I lose sight of you on your blind journey, While the heath grass glitters and the spindling rivulets Unpool and spend themselves. My mind runs with them, Pooling in heel-prints, fumbling pebble and stem. The day empties its images Like a cup of a room. The moon’s crook whitens, Thin as the skin seaming a scar. Now, on the nursery wall, The blue night plants, the little pale blue hill In your sister’s birthday picture start to glow. The orange pompons, the Egyptian papyrus Light up. Each rabbit-eared Blue shrub behind the glass Exhales an indigo nimbus, A sort of cellophane balloon. The old dregs, the old difficulties take me to wife. Gulls stiffen to their chill vigil in the drafty half-light; I enter the lit house.
Oh Fiona, I am so sorry this has happened. I had a MC at 9/10 weeks a few years ago, and I was so utterly sad. Take care of yourself, thinking of you over the next while xxxxx
ReplyDeleteThank you Emily. I'm sorry that you also had to go through this. Thank you for commenting xo
DeleteThinking of you Fiona. Be kind to yourself and take all the time you need to grieve. x
ReplyDeleteThank you Kate xo
DeleteFiona I am so very sorry for what you're going through. As a momma & someone who has had 2 miscarriages I know exactly how you feel because I've felt it it. I can't offer you much in the way of advice other than mind yourself and try & ignore the "well meaning" & often hurtful advice people will try to offer. Only you know how to grieve in your own time & your own way. You will come out the other end, and you'll be stronger. Nothing will ever hurt you quite the same again,
ReplyDeleteThank you Yvonne, I'm so sorry that you had to go through this heartbreak twice xo
DeleteMy heart goes out to you Fiona. My second was a miscarriage and I was totally overcome with sadness but it was an almost secret grief as no one ranked an eight week old foetus as my baby. What I did find v v helpful was naming my baby. We called it Dara. My husband is religious and so we went to a church and lit three candles, one for each of us and one for our little one. Having that time alone together to mark my grief was so necessary especially as my husband was not in the same state of sadness as I was. To this day my children speak of that baby as Dara. There is no quick fix for grief Fiona, I wish their was, as you know my friend lost her young boy recently and the roller coaster of grief is very hard to ride. My love to you and your OH. xxxx
ReplyDeleteThank you Tric. Dara is a beautiful name and I'm sure they watch over you. I love what you and your husband did, I would like to do something similar, I think I will next week. I must think of a fitting name for my little soul xo
DeleteOh Fiona, I am so sorry to hear this and have to read a post like this. You know exactly where I am if you need me, to rant or cry or laugh at! I'll supply the tea. Thinking of you xxx
ReplyDeleteThank you Louise, hope to see you and little L soon xo
DeleteSo sorry for your loss, I really am, I'm 23 weeks now and I couldn't even imagine what you're going through, please take care of yourself and your partner and cuddle your little guy loads x
ReplyDeleteThank you Yav. Enjoy the rest of your pregnancy and take care of you and your little one xo
DeleteThinking of you Fiona, must be an incredibly hard time for you. x
ReplyDeleteThank you Nora, very hard at the moment but getting through xo
DeleteSo sorry for your loss. Be kind to yourself. As you say it happens to women everyday but that doesn't make it any easier. Remember 'this too will pass' - I used this mantra throughout breast cancer some days through tears of sadness, fear and anguish.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Judith. I hope you're now over your breast cancer ordeal. I really appreciate your comment xo
DeleteI'm so sorry for your loss Fiona, it's very brave
ReplyDeleteof you to post this and bring awareness to such a personal topic. Thinking of you. X
Thank you so much, still debating whether to revert to draft, trying to stick with it on here xo
DeleteOh, Fiona, I'm so sorry. Big hugs.
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Christine xo
DeleteOh no Fiona, that's awful you poor thing. SO brave of you to write this post, I'm sure it will help anyone who's going through the same thing. Thinking of you honey xxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Megan, I hope someone going through the same heartbreak can find some comfort from my post xo
DeleteI'm so sorry you had to experience this loss. My thoughts are with you!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Lynsey xo
DeleteFiona sending you a big hug at this very sad and difficult time. Be kind to yourself! xxxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much, I really appreciate your comment xo
DeleteFiona I'm so, so sorry for your loss. Look after yourself xxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Sharon xo
DeleteSo sorry! Thinking of you x
ReplyDeleteThank you Kim xo
DeleteSo sorry to hear this Fiona, can't imagine how horrible it must be. Sending you love and light at this dark time.Mind yourself xxxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much Aedin, I hope you and your little ones are well xo
DeleteSo sad to read this, I've been following along for quite a while now and you seem like such an amazing mama! Keeping you in my thoughts!
ReplyDeleteThank you so much for your comment and for following the blog, I try to be the best mother I can be xo
DeleteSuch sadness for you Fiona on your loss. The only positive from these terrible things is how open parents are about talking about, acknowledging and supporting each other. Stay well and allow yourself time to grieve and heal xxx
ReplyDeleteThank you so much. It's great to see parents being open with one another and so supportive xo
Delete💙💙💙 very brave of u to post this fi.. here for you always xxx
ReplyDeleteThanks you Christina <3
DeleteSweetheart I'm so sorry, I just don't know what to say, I cannot imagine what this must be like for you. Sending so much love and strength to you xx
ReplyDeleteI am so sorry this has happened to you, but you should be very proud of yourself for writting this post, this post could make all the difference to someone else's day. Stay strong and take care, I think you are amazing. x
ReplyDeletesorry you had to go through this, I hope writing it down helped a bit with the grief, sending some strength to you xx
ReplyDeleteSo sorry to hear this Fiona, how horrible. Thoughts are with you, hope you're doing okay.
ReplyDeleteJess xo
Comment from my mummy 'this happened to me, almost identically with my first pregnancy. I was heart broken. I went on to have four beautiful children :) lots of love xxx'
ReplyDeleteFiona, I'm so sorry you had to write this post. You are very brave for doing so. Sending hugs,stay strong xx
ReplyDeleteMs,Fiona I'm so sorry
ReplyDeleteso sorry to read this honey. much love x
ReplyDelete