Written for House 21.
I feel like miscarriage is such a taboo word and throughout my twenties I was lucky that no one in my immediate friendship circle suffered with one.
Having said that, I had always known both my mum and sister had had a miscarriage in their early twenties, yet it was something we didn’t really touch on and looking at it now I wonder why we didn’t? Where we scared that talking about it would upset the person?
And then in 2018, the year that will forever go down as one of my worst I had a miscarriage myself.
And it affected me in ways I never anticipated that even two years on I struggle to talk about it out loud.
I felt such an enormous sense of guilt, I completely blamed myself for a really long time and it has taken near to 18 months to stop the blame game, because ultimately it doesn’t help anyone least of all myself.
I think one of the hardest things for me to comprehend was I had previously had a scan where I had seen the baby on the screen and heard the heartbeat so for then 3 weeks later to be told there was no heartbeat was such a shock and was not at all what I was expecting.
Yet when I sat waiting at my next scan, lying there waiting to hear a heartbeat, those two minutes feel like an absolute lifetime. I knew straight away something was wrong I could tell in her face; I could tell by the silence in the room I just knew.
But the statistics are there, statistics I had never even took any notice of. 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage and most like mine ends within the first 3 months. I also found out at that point that I had a rare blood type which meant pregnancies would always be difficult which just felt like a further blow to my heart.
Those days after where just a blur, I scoured the internet just looking for comfort, I needed to hear other women’s stories, I needed answers, why did this happen to me? What did I do wrong? How do I get through this? I don’t think I have ever felt more alone than I did those first few days, I felt empty.
And because I didn’t miscarry naturally the idea that I was carrying my baby around with me for a further 10 days was agony. And going through an operation was my absolute worst fear. But hearing from other women who had gone through the same thing comforted me, hearing from these women some of whom had then gone on to have happy healthy babies gave me hope.
One of the hardest aspects throughout all of this has been that my best friend was also pregnant at the same time so at times I have struggled as I have watched every milestone that I too should have gone through. Bonding with my god daughter has at times been challenging, I love her so much but at times that love makes me feel so unbelievably sad.
This December I should have a two-year-old, it feels crazy to even think how different my life would have been.
I think about my baby every day, I wonder what he/she would have looked like and I still grieve for a life that should have been mine.
But time truly is a healer and for anyone who is sitting scouring the internet for posts of hope like I did all those months ago I hope you stop blaming yourself, I hope you know that you did everything you could and I hope you know your baby will live on forever in your heart.
And I hope more than anything that you know you are never alone, and your time will come.