Immediately after losing Emily I told my partner that I never wanted to go through this again, that I never wanted to have another loss so that had to mean that I never would have another child.
The next day that thought completly u-turned and I was suddenly desperate to have another baby. To try again. I hate that phrase by the way, to try again, it sounds like something you would say to a child who picks the blue crayon when you asked them to find the red one - Oops you got that wrong, lets try that again. Anyway with the 8 weeks of bleeding we obviously didn't have the chance to "try again" and we wanted to wait and speak to our doctors etc first.
Well our OBGYN consultant said she recommends waiting 6 months but that there is no real reason why we cannot try as soon as we wanted. A week after that appointment I was rushed into hospital for an emergency ERPC due to retained placenta! But again the doctors said there was no real reason to wait. I even triple checked with my GP who said the same thing!
So off we starated on this journey again - Trying to Conceive.
We haven't told anyone yet and I dont think we will. I change my mind on a daily basis about when I will tell people we have actually managed it again. There are days when I think I would want to shout it from the rooftops - I am pregnant - I have something to smile about again! And there are other days when I think I wont tell anyone until we get that first ultrasound that puts us in the clear because I dont want to tempt fate. I am undecided so I guess we will simply have to wait and see what happens when it happens!
So anyway, the point of this blog was that someone on an online support forum called me 'courageous' for wanting to try again. But I dont know. Is what I am doing courageous? Or is it sheer desperation?
I certainly dont feel courageous.
But desperation?
I certainly feel desperate to be pregnant again.
Desperate to have that little life growing inside me.
Desperate to have the chance to do it right this time.
Desperate to see my healthy baby on an ultrasound.
Desperate to hear the sonographer say 'congratualtions' instead of 'I'm sorry but...'.
Desperate to feel my baby kick inside me.
Desperate to be able to buy things and to decorate the nursery.
Desperate to bring my baby home and hold them.
Desperate to be a family - to make my partner a daddy.
Desperate to be able to buy my baby things and not just memorial items to take to a grave.
I am desperate. Desperately wanting my Emily back. And now I'm not so sure if that desperation of wanting her back is the same as wanting another child. Do I just want these things? Or do I want to do these things with her? Because it is her I love - not just A. N. Other child. *sigh* I dont know.
Its not the first time either where people have commented about how 'brave' I am or how 'strong' I am being. I am neither courageous, brave nor strong. There is no other option but to battle through these dark times. Trust me if there was another way I would have done it by now! You really do just have to get on with things. That doesn't mean I am strong, it doesn't mean that I like it either - it just means what it is. Life. And life sucks!
So onwards on our journey we go... Who knows where it where the road will take us this time?
Friday 30 September 2011
Thursday 22 September 2011
Facing my reality... in my nightmares.
As the days turn to weeks and the weeks into months I am getting better at my 'Public Face'. I'm sure anyone coming through babyloss will know this face well... It's that smiley happy face, that face that says 'I'm OK'. The face that makes people think - she's coping well, she's handling things, she's finding her way through, she'll get there.
Some days I think I manage to fool even myself with the face so firmly positioned. Other days I feel like I want to rip the face off and show people the ugly truth that lurks beneath. I want to scream and shout and rave 'My baby, I want her! I miss her! I ache for her! Let me be with her, I need to be with her'.
I'm tired. So tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of pretending. Tired of trying to get through the day. Tired of trying to make it through the night.
In the beginning I sought comfort in sleep. When I slept I didn't hurt - so I slept a lot. But now, in some cruel twist of fate I can't even seek solace in sleep anymore because as soon as my eyes close the nightmares start. Really they are more like night terrors - I shake, writhe and scream in my sleep. I wake up sobbing and struggle to close my eyes again. I see her everynight - but not in my dreams. They are never nice. I never feel love in my nightmares - only sheer terror. I re-live that day. That day. But it's even more horrific in my dreams, if that is even possible. And then it will change. There are different variations but always the same subject. Last night I was screaming as I was gribbing fistfuls of earth and mud - clawing at her grave - desperately wanting to be with her.
Maybe the face isn't such a good idea. Maybe my sub-concious is trying to tell me that I have to take the face off and deal with my reality. Maybe its trying to tell me that its impossible to outrun reality.
This is my reality now... This is my now. And I guess I can't hide from it forever because it will always find a way to get me.
Some days I think I manage to fool even myself with the face so firmly positioned. Other days I feel like I want to rip the face off and show people the ugly truth that lurks beneath. I want to scream and shout and rave 'My baby, I want her! I miss her! I ache for her! Let me be with her, I need to be with her'.
I'm tired. So tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of pretending. Tired of trying to get through the day. Tired of trying to make it through the night.
In the beginning I sought comfort in sleep. When I slept I didn't hurt - so I slept a lot. But now, in some cruel twist of fate I can't even seek solace in sleep anymore because as soon as my eyes close the nightmares start. Really they are more like night terrors - I shake, writhe and scream in my sleep. I wake up sobbing and struggle to close my eyes again. I see her everynight - but not in my dreams. They are never nice. I never feel love in my nightmares - only sheer terror. I re-live that day. That day. But it's even more horrific in my dreams, if that is even possible. And then it will change. There are different variations but always the same subject. Last night I was screaming as I was gribbing fistfuls of earth and mud - clawing at her grave - desperately wanting to be with her.
Maybe the face isn't such a good idea. Maybe my sub-concious is trying to tell me that I have to take the face off and deal with my reality. Maybe its trying to tell me that its impossible to outrun reality.
This is my reality now... This is my now. And I guess I can't hide from it forever because it will always find a way to get me.
Tuesday 20 September 2011
Drama!
Friday 16th September was my sisters 23rd birthday. And what a 23rd birthday she had!
We went to visit my mum in hospital and she was not in the best of moods and understandabley so! She was really pissed off with the doctors and nurses, sore, fed up and tired - so it wasnt the best hospital visit ever and I think it upset both of us quite a bit. At 4pm mum noticed her drain had fallen out of her back and I went to tell the nurses - they asked my sister and I to step outside and wait whilst they tried to fix it. When I stood there I felt blood pouring out of me so I ran down the stairs to the toilets. I had soaked through a whole super-maxi pad and the blood was coming through my underwear and trousers. I went back up the stairs and stood beside Laura - I couldn't leave as my bag and jacket where in the room with mum. I went to sit down as I could feel the blood starting again - I started to cry and had to tell Laura what was happening. She went to try and get my bag and jacket by the time she came back and I stood up the blood was everywhere - there was a huge pool of it in the chair I had sat on. I got it in my head I had to get home so I tied my jacket around my waist and headed for my car - but I didnt get that far. As I got outside the hospital I could feel the blood getting worse - I ran down the hospital and into the A&E.
By the time I got there the blood was pouring down my legs and pooling on the floor. There was queue at the reception and I stood there crying not knowing what to do. Eventually a nurse noticed me and came and took me into the triage room. I managed to tell her what was happening in between huge sobs and they got me into a cubicle.
I was seen by the doctor and referred to gynae. The gynae doctor wanted to admit me due to the blood loss and so I was sent by ambulance to the Royal hospital and admitted into ward 56A where I was put on a drip overnight and then scanned in the morning. The scan showed I had retained placental tissue and the doctor said it would need to be removed via surgery. On Saturday night I was taken for an ERPC (Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception). Going to theatre was scary - it was an emergency theatre they were using so there was no anaesthetic room - I was taken straight in and could see the whole team standing there, equipement and drugs and everything lying around waiting for me to go to sleep! It was rather unnerving.
So that is it over now. I am quite annoyed that the medical profession let it go on for this long. I was lucky that I happened to be in the hospital grounds at the time of the bleed, but what if I had been out in the middle of nowhere walking the dogs on my own!?
At least now I feel we can try and move forward. Maybe.
We went to visit my mum in hospital and she was not in the best of moods and understandabley so! She was really pissed off with the doctors and nurses, sore, fed up and tired - so it wasnt the best hospital visit ever and I think it upset both of us quite a bit. At 4pm mum noticed her drain had fallen out of her back and I went to tell the nurses - they asked my sister and I to step outside and wait whilst they tried to fix it. When I stood there I felt blood pouring out of me so I ran down the stairs to the toilets. I had soaked through a whole super-maxi pad and the blood was coming through my underwear and trousers. I went back up the stairs and stood beside Laura - I couldn't leave as my bag and jacket where in the room with mum. I went to sit down as I could feel the blood starting again - I started to cry and had to tell Laura what was happening. She went to try and get my bag and jacket by the time she came back and I stood up the blood was everywhere - there was a huge pool of it in the chair I had sat on. I got it in my head I had to get home so I tied my jacket around my waist and headed for my car - but I didnt get that far. As I got outside the hospital I could feel the blood getting worse - I ran down the hospital and into the A&E.
By the time I got there the blood was pouring down my legs and pooling on the floor. There was queue at the reception and I stood there crying not knowing what to do. Eventually a nurse noticed me and came and took me into the triage room. I managed to tell her what was happening in between huge sobs and they got me into a cubicle.
I was seen by the doctor and referred to gynae. The gynae doctor wanted to admit me due to the blood loss and so I was sent by ambulance to the Royal hospital and admitted into ward 56A where I was put on a drip overnight and then scanned in the morning. The scan showed I had retained placental tissue and the doctor said it would need to be removed via surgery. On Saturday night I was taken for an ERPC (Evacuation of Retained Products of Conception). Going to theatre was scary - it was an emergency theatre they were using so there was no anaesthetic room - I was taken straight in and could see the whole team standing there, equipement and drugs and everything lying around waiting for me to go to sleep! It was rather unnerving.
So that is it over now. I am quite annoyed that the medical profession let it go on for this long. I was lucky that I happened to be in the hospital grounds at the time of the bleed, but what if I had been out in the middle of nowhere walking the dogs on my own!?
At least now I feel we can try and move forward. Maybe.
Friday 16 September 2011
Moving on...
It's a strange feeling watching everyone around you moving on - getting on with their own lives - leaving you floudering behind. I get the feeling they think 'It's been 8 weeks now, its time to move on'. And maybe that is true, for them, but not for me. Who said they got to put a time limit on losing a child?
Throughout all of this - right from the minute things started to go wrong at our 12 week scan - people have been texting and calling making sure we are OK, asking if there is anything we need. I noticed that after July 24th when Emily was born that we got an influx of calls and texts - people sending their sympathies - but then they started to dwindle until after her funeral when they almost stopped altogether. Apparently after the funeral we dont need support anymore? Or did I manage to fool enough people by telling them I was 'Okay'? Who knows. Would I have been different if the shoe were on the other foot? If I was the one in the position to offer comfort. I dont know. I honestly dont. Because if this has taught me anything its that you never know what you will do in any given situation until you are in it - until you have to come face to face with your fears you can not say with ultimate clarity what you would do.
For me, I feel like everything is getting worse rather than better or easier 8 weeks on. People keep telling me that time heals all wounds, well that may be true, but it seems that learning to live with the scars that are left behind is the hard part.
Throughout all of this - right from the minute things started to go wrong at our 12 week scan - people have been texting and calling making sure we are OK, asking if there is anything we need. I noticed that after July 24th when Emily was born that we got an influx of calls and texts - people sending their sympathies - but then they started to dwindle until after her funeral when they almost stopped altogether. Apparently after the funeral we dont need support anymore? Or did I manage to fool enough people by telling them I was 'Okay'? Who knows. Would I have been different if the shoe were on the other foot? If I was the one in the position to offer comfort. I dont know. I honestly dont. Because if this has taught me anything its that you never know what you will do in any given situation until you are in it - until you have to come face to face with your fears you can not say with ultimate clarity what you would do.
For me, I feel like everything is getting worse rather than better or easier 8 weeks on. People keep telling me that time heals all wounds, well that may be true, but it seems that learning to live with the scars that are left behind is the hard part.
Thursday 8 September 2011
Needing the needle...
I've often thought about getting a tattoo and then laughed at myself for even thinking about it! I would no doubt get something and then 2 days later wish I had gotten something else. Or wish that I could rub it out altogether. I tossed around some ideas in my head of what I would get but nothing has ever seemed right.
So I decided it was unlikely I would ever get a tattoo.
And then we lost Emily.
Since losing her I have felt an intense desire to find some way, any way, of keeping her with me. With pregnancy loss being such a taboo subject - no one wants to even imagine it exists so why would they talk about it? So I'm struggling along. I have found a lot of support online, connecting with other baby loss mothers. Other families devastated by the loss of a much wanted baby. And it helps, it really does, to have someone understand just what you are feeling and thinking - someone to walk this path with.
But I still have this longing, this need for something physical. The only way I can describe it is a longing to hug someone - I physically ache for Emily, I want to hold her in my arms and protect her. But I cant. I know thats impossible so I have decided to get something that will act as a constant reminder that she existed - that she was my baby girl.
The first thing I done was order a beautiful necklace from Allison at www.pastelprints.co.uk. It is called the Angel Wings Memorial Necklace and this is mine -
It is incredible. And it means more to me than words can ever tell. It has an angels wing, a little tag with Emily on it, 2 birth-stones - Ruby for July when Emily was born and Garnet for January when she was due as well as her hand and footprint on charms. I wear it everyday with pride and hold it close at night whilst the tears fall as I go to sleep.
But even now I am scared of the day when I take it off. Right now I cant imagine ever taking it off - but years down the line I know I probably will. And then what?
And so I have decided to finally get that tattoo.
I dont get to see my baby growing in front of me I dont get to hold her. I believe that a tattoo will be my way of taking that emotional pain to a physical place. I will be changing my body in a physical way just like my emotional side has been forever changed when I lost Emily.
I even have an idea in my mind of what I want it to look like. Now I just need to find someone to do it and the courage to go through with it.
So I decided it was unlikely I would ever get a tattoo.
And then we lost Emily.
Since losing her I have felt an intense desire to find some way, any way, of keeping her with me. With pregnancy loss being such a taboo subject - no one wants to even imagine it exists so why would they talk about it? So I'm struggling along. I have found a lot of support online, connecting with other baby loss mothers. Other families devastated by the loss of a much wanted baby. And it helps, it really does, to have someone understand just what you are feeling and thinking - someone to walk this path with.
But I still have this longing, this need for something physical. The only way I can describe it is a longing to hug someone - I physically ache for Emily, I want to hold her in my arms and protect her. But I cant. I know thats impossible so I have decided to get something that will act as a constant reminder that she existed - that she was my baby girl.
The first thing I done was order a beautiful necklace from Allison at www.pastelprints.co.uk. It is called the Angel Wings Memorial Necklace and this is mine -
It is incredible. And it means more to me than words can ever tell. It has an angels wing, a little tag with Emily on it, 2 birth-stones - Ruby for July when Emily was born and Garnet for January when she was due as well as her hand and footprint on charms. I wear it everyday with pride and hold it close at night whilst the tears fall as I go to sleep.
But even now I am scared of the day when I take it off. Right now I cant imagine ever taking it off - but years down the line I know I probably will. And then what?
And so I have decided to finally get that tattoo.
I dont get to see my baby growing in front of me I dont get to hold her. I believe that a tattoo will be my way of taking that emotional pain to a physical place. I will be changing my body in a physical way just like my emotional side has been forever changed when I lost Emily.
I even have an idea in my mind of what I want it to look like. Now I just need to find someone to do it and the courage to go through with it.
Sunday 4 September 2011
Today...
Today is not a good day. Today is a bad day. Today is a day where I want the world to end. Today I cant imagine getting to tomorrow. Today I dont know how I got here - where did it all go wrong? What did I do to deserve this?
Today I should be 23 weeks pregnant. I should be walking around with a big belly bump, buying cute pink outfits, decorating my nursery. I should be excited - counting down the days till I get to meet my baby girl. So why am I instead 6 weeks on from saying goodbye to my precious girl. Why did I have to spend the morning sat on the wet damp grass by the side of my daughters grave tears streaming down my face wanting to scream - Why cant I have her? Why cant I hug her? Why couldn't I keep her safe inside me? What did I do wrong? Why did it have to happen to her? How is that fair? Why is life so cruel?
There is a huge gaping hole in my heart and I dont think it will ever go away. Its been 6 weeks and yes some days I feel stronger but some days, like today, I dont want to face the world.
Why did this have to be my today?
Today I should be 23 weeks pregnant. I should be walking around with a big belly bump, buying cute pink outfits, decorating my nursery. I should be excited - counting down the days till I get to meet my baby girl. So why am I instead 6 weeks on from saying goodbye to my precious girl. Why did I have to spend the morning sat on the wet damp grass by the side of my daughters grave tears streaming down my face wanting to scream - Why cant I have her? Why cant I hug her? Why couldn't I keep her safe inside me? What did I do wrong? Why did it have to happen to her? How is that fair? Why is life so cruel?
There is a huge gaping hole in my heart and I dont think it will ever go away. Its been 6 weeks and yes some days I feel stronger but some days, like today, I dont want to face the world.
Why did this have to be my today?
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