Mother's Day, March 18th this year, was not a good day. I had been expecting to spend it with the little man and his daddy. A trip to the park perhaps, or lunch out. Instead while they were downstairs playing, I was upstairs having a miscarriage. On Mother's Day. As Alanis Morissette so eloquently put it, how ironic.
I had been bleeding for about a week before that and, concerned, we had arranged for an early scan. Looking back, I should have known the outcome before the technician gently told us. Without noticing, I had slowly stopped feeling pregnant. I love brocolli but can't stand even the smell of it when pregnant. I was eating it again, and the feelings of sickness had gone. But still it was a shock. I was coming up to nine weeks into the pregnancy and we were excited. I had even fished out some of my old maternity clothes.
Although it was early days, I had decided to tell family and friends our happy news and, despite now having to break it to them that things hadn't worked out, I knew my decision had been the right one. It was exactly as I had wanted it to be - I was going through this loss and I didn't want friends to ask how I was and have to reply with the usual "Oh fine" when I was anything but. I am not saying I was distraught - it was early, it happens to so many - but I was sad and disappointed. So very disappointed. And it helped being able to talk about it. I discovered I wasn't alone, by any means. Many revealed that they had been through the same, which was a comfort, especially as they had gone on to have more children.
And that is my main concern. We have a son. We love having a son and we want more like him. Having got so far only to have it taken away, the urge to be pregnant, to feel sick, to start hating my greens and to have the bump I was so looking forward to welcoming back again, is stronger than ever.
I was waiting to tell my story, hoping for the happy ending of a
burgeoning belly to round it off nicely, but actually that isn't the
point. The reason for sharing this isn't about future pregnancies but so that someone might read this who is going through the same thing and they will know that they are not alone. A fellow mummy blogger revealed a similar story and is now 30 weeks pregnant. That is the kind of shared story that lifts my spirits if they need lifting. I hope, one day, I can pass on the favour.