A quick update

Hi all, I hope you've all had a better week than I have! My week has been tiring and stressful, work has been frustrating and I've been feeling quite low. Even Rob has become emotional earlier on in the week, after receiving a message on a group chat of a scan picture I saw him gazing out of our back window at the apple trees. He admitted he was not ok and cried on my shoulder as I stroked the back on his head. The scan picture was just like Passenger's the legs were so similar and it had brought everything back for Rob. We have had to protect ourselves and muted that particular whatsapp group as it was unfortunately triggering us both, obviously we don't want the members of the group to change their behaviour we understand their excitement and happiness but it's just a little too much for us to take at the moment. 

My symptoms are getting worse, I'm finding it hard to get to sleep and like clockwork I wake up 4 hours later and doze until my alarm went off. I've noticed a tremor in my hands that has hindered my work slightly. I had tried to live my life as best I could but my mask was slipping, keeping it on has been exhausting and was certainly taking its toll. My period still hadn't arrived and I was getting anxious and after pouring my heart out to my sister in law I rang the doctor. She suggested going back on antidepressants - sertraline at 50mg and I felt some relief. So I've been taking medication for the last couple of days and low and behold, AF arrives! My cycle was 47 days long, I'm fairly sure I hadn't ovulated although I did see some change in my cervical fluid it never went to raw egg white consistency. My period itself is also a little unusual for me, much heavier than normal and really bright red fresh blood even with tiny clots mixed in but luckily no period pain (weird since I've had period pain on and off for over two weeks!). Even though my period has been different I'm not worried, I think it's still in the normal range.

I originally wanted to get Rob's story of Bean for this post, a husband's point of view, a father's point of view of miscarriage. When I approached him about it although he was up for it and felt it a good idea to get a mans view across he has been a little anxious about it. He's said he doesn't want to offend me if he doesn't remember every detail like I have, but that's the point, I want to understand his experience. However, we haven't had time this week for us to discuss it properly really, we've found it hard to set time aside specifically. We obviously talk about Bean a lot but delving back to the painful times has been very hard and almost a little unnatural if that makes sense. He's also not a "talker" unlike me, so when we do get round to recording I will need to try and coax it out of him.

We've had such a busy weekend with a family member's birthday celebration that my post will be really short this week and won't have any of Beans story, but hopefully by next week I will have Rob's take on things and also the results of my consultation with the genetic specialist regarding genetic testing after Passenger's condition. I'm really sorry it's so short but I will be back next week!

Stay strong, 

Adele xxx

Surgery

May the 7th marks International Bereaved Mother's Day, a day dedicated to mothers who have gone through any sort of baby, infant or child loss. It's a day to bring recognition to ALL mothers. I am a mother of two, I didn't get to meet either of them properly, I've never heard either of them cry, I never felt either of them kick, I don't even know their gender for certain. 

Today has brought me to the end of my week off with my husband, we have transformed our garden from an over grown, dark, claustrophobic space to a lovely light and open garden. We buried Passenger under her apple tree and it stands proudly next to Bean's apple tree, standing among pansies and carnations. It was a very hard day, it was difficult seeing her going under. We'd written some more notes for her and Bean which were obviously difficult to write. 

<<From this..to this!>> 😀

It's been a weird week, although it's been really positive and productive in terms of the garden and the house, I feel I've gone backwards in terms of my psychological health and grief. I've continued to feel down, my period still hasn't come I'm now in CD42. I'm sick of this never ending cycle, there are no signs of change. I took another pregnancy test yesterday - negative. I'm pretty certain I have not ovulated at all, although I did see a change in my CF I don't think it was enough to release an egg. Family say not to track and not to stress, it's pretty hard not to track, I notice everything now, and I think it's better to track in case I am asked any questions at my upcoming consultations at the hospital. It has been an up and down week, tears, frustration, laughter and happiness, pain and worry. The pain mostly relating to to my tattoos! I got the other feather done on Tuesday and I am so pleased with it, now I have the whole family with me, my babies walk with me everyday.

My last post led us to the day before my surgery, I didn't sleep that night, how could I? I'd never had any sort of surgery before, I was terrified but completely unanimated. The shock had ran so deeply I couldn't do anything but stare into space and wonder what I had done to deserve this. I slumped forward, I didn't have the strength to sit up, tears caught in my throat constantly, my eyes were rimmed in red, my cheeks had damp, salty streaks, my nose was hot and pink, my hair was greasy and unbrushed, my fringe was wet with tears plastered to my forehead. My mind was literally shutting down, it had taken too much trauma but I had to get to the hospital, I needed this to be over.

We got to the outpatients department, I brought some stuff with me - a dressing gown, slippers which happened to be my mother in law's as I still hadn't got round to unpacking mine yet. We checked in and we sat down in the waiting room, the tears came again as we waited. I shrank in the chair, almost bent double leaning my chest on my lap with Rob's arm around me. I didn't look around, I wouldn't have seen anything if I had anyway. A few minutes later I was called in on my own, I kissed Rob. I was really scared, I didn't want to go on my own, but the nurses said that they didn't really allow men on the ward as it was specifically for women's surgery. I followed her to my little bay, I confirmed I hadn't eaten or drank anything since around 8am, it was around noon by this point and I was already feeling thirsty. I remember seeing a couple of other patients on the ward, there was a lady to my right as I laid on the bed in the hospital gown that was throwing up all the time. The sound was horrific, terrible dry retching every 5-10minutes, she must have been exhausted. I don't know if she was having a reaction to the medication or whether she was suffering for morning sickness. The noise made me feel nauseous and I had no music to drown her out I really hate sick in general, I'd never be able to work in a club or a pub I wouldn't be able to deal with people being sick. All I could do was try to block her out until she went in for her procedure. There was another young girl opposite me in another bay, she was accompanied by her boyfriend I assumed and that's when it dawned on me - this ward housed women suffering miscarriages, complications in pregnancy and those with unwanted pregnancies. Of course I was making huge assumptions but the young couple can't have been much older than 15-16, I suddenly became incredibly envious and angry with them both. How could they go through an abortion when I had lost my very much wanted child? Why was that allowed in this modern world? I was so critical of that couple, thinking now, I had no idea what they had been through and I'm a little ashamed but I can't help what I felt and I'm only relaying my thoughts and feelings as they were back then. I guess I just felt such an overwhelming sense of injustice and I was projecting my anger of my loss onto them which wasn't their fault. It also pissed me off that she was allowed to have her boyfriend there with her! I'm suffering too if not more so! Again I'm ashamed to say I was thinking that. Now I accept that everyone in that room has had to make either a heart breaking choice or a heartbreaking choice has been made for them without their control. 

I shut the curtain, at least I had the sense to know when something was triggering me and it was better just to shut them out, or shut myself away. I was near a window and I stared out often as the time went by. The retching died away so I guess that lady went in for surgery. I texted Rob updating him on events, or lack of as the case was for at least the first hour. Eventually another nurse came round and explained that she had to give me the same medical management pills as before to soften my cervix in preparation for surgery as no incisions are made during the procedure. This time she inserted them, I remember her face afterwards, she looked disgusted, only for a split second but I saw it. There were no encouraging words, no bedside manner. She did what she needed to do and moved on. I put some paper panties on and wedged a huge pad between my legs. I stared out the window once more feeling the hot tears roll down my face again. It seems like I never had dry eyes during that whole month since finding out Bean had died, my eyes were always on the brink of overflowing at any moment. 

Another hour passed at least, it must have been past 2o'clock by now, I was gagging for a drink and my belly rumbled impatiently. The ward was quieter now, many of the women had been in to have the procedure and I got more frequent pop-ins from the nurses, I was getting desperate for the surgery now, my mouth was so dry my tongue was a clump in my mouth. I asked if Rob could come in and my wish was granted we waited together as the pills made my uterus cramp mildly. I was worried the pills would take affect and I'd start to bleed before I had time to go into surgery, I stayed laying on the bed to stop gravity from helping proceedings. 

Finally my time came, and suddenly I wasn't desperate for surgery anymore I didn't want to go in. But everything was already on it's way, the pills made me cramp, I'd signed everything, and in the end there was nothing I could do. I had to go through this. I knew it was the right thing to do. It was the only way. This would be the end of the awful physical part of miscarriage. After this I'd be able to get better, things would go back to normal, right? 

I remember walking down a corridor, yeah, walking, I wasn't on a bed. I was walking through the hospital, the young anaesthetist was behind me wrapping the comically over-sized hospital gown around me one and a half times and securing it into place. I shuffled along painfully conscious of the paper pants and maxi pad I was wearing. Then I was led into an anaesthetic room, a little room where they administer the general anaesthetic so you don't end up seeing all the offensive tools they'll use in you during surgery. I said that these rooms were a very good idea and I lifted myself onto the bed slowly and the anaesthetist told me that a lot of hospitals were starting to phase them out. Idle chit chat really, I was keeping a brave face pretty well. A few minutes later and I was ready to go under, then reality hit, this was going to be the end of my first pregnancy. This was saying goodbye to Bean, after four weeks of limbo and hating it all I was now terrified of leaving, what was going to happen next? I felt guilt rush throughout my body, I was killing Bean. I was killing Bean's pregnancy. Burning spikes pricked my eyes and I cried anew, everything stopped, the gas mask was hovering above my face, the young anaesthetist asked if I was alright. I choked out an answer "I don't want to say goodbye to my baby." She held my hand, I gripped it tightly and quietly sobbed for a few more seconds. There was such a big build up of emotions it was impossible to hold them all, I had let out a trickle to relieve some of the pressure and I started to relax back into the quiet state of despair, my strength left me and I let out a ragged sigh. I gave a slight nod and the mask was put over my nose and mouth I started counting down from ten and the world faded away.

I awoke 20 minutes later in a dumb and drowsy state overhearing conversations about London 2012, I spoke incoherently but was trying to tell the nurses that me and Rob had been to see the badminton. I don't actually know if those conversations were real or not, it's a pretty weird detail to remember! When I'd fully come round I was taken back to my bay where Rob was waiting for me, I was so glad to see him, he really was and still is a rock for me. I was brought some water and a sandwich I wolfed them both down instantly, it was well after 4pm by this point and I hadn't eaten or drank anything since early morning. The hospital couldn't let me go until I had been to the loo but I was so dehydrated I literally couldn't go. I drank another pitcher of water and waited, I was becoming so exhausted from the day and no sleep from the night before, I really wanted to go home and get away from this place. I shuffled towards the loo, the paper pants had been discarded at this point but I could feel a pad. I hoisted up the robe and looked down at myself, I was covered in iodine which took me by surprise and again I tried to understand what had happened to me. I managed a dribble of pee and I was allowed to go home. Rob helped me dress, I was scared of moving roughly and the anaesthetic was still coursing through my veins so I was slow and cumbersome. When we got home all I can remember is being on the sofa and examining my hand where they had administered the anaesthetic, it was bruised and swollen. I curled up and dozed in and out of sleep.

The next day was a Saturday, my parents travelled down from "up North" early to see us. Since all of this I've become much more open with my mum, we've always been really close but as a family we don't really show our feelings, especially the real deep dark feelings we might experience. So when they said they were coming down, it was to see if we were ok but also to help us clean up our house, after all we hadn't been moved in a week yet. We hugged with watery eyes and everyone got to work while I stood around an delegated. Rob had already taken up the carpets so my dad was removing the staples from the floor boards, me and mum were cleaning up as we went. We even popped a bottle of Champagne for moving in, it was bizarre, I was living two alternative lives that weekend, I was bleeding from surgery, coming down from anaesthetic, unpacking my life into a new house and inside my soul just shrank away into a black crumbly stone. But on the outside I was already practicing wearing the mask. Whether it was to protect Rob, my parents or myself I couldn't tell you, probably a mixture of all three. My parents left on the Sunday, I felt less groggy but was still bleeding lightly. I prepared to start my new job the following day.

Little Bean lets go

Hi all, I hope you've had a good week. I must admit that I've been feeling pretty low for the past week or so, among other things that I won't go into here I had a negative pregnancy test and I'm still waiting for my period to come. I'm on day 35 and although I've been getting period pains there's absolutely no sign of AF. I want to get it over and done with now so we can try again in my next cycle but I can tell that isn't going to happen for some time. I've also been having pain in the area where Passenger was, I'm not sure what to do. However, one positive thing has happened this week, I got one half of my remembrance tattoo done in honour of our Little Bean. It's a feather in a sort of yin yang style black meaning feminine, representing me and Little Bean as the bright blue heart inside.

I'm super chuffed with the result, just waiting for the swelling to go down now! I'm getting the other half done on my other foot on Tuesday - white feather for masculine meaning Rob with Little Passenger inside as a bright pink heart. 

My last post took us to the end of 2015, on Jan 5th 2016 we moved into our current home in Peterborough nearby to Rob's parents and friends. It was (and still is actually) an old fashioned bungalow needing some decorative TLC but everything structurally solid and in working order. Rob started his new job literally the day after in Cambridge so I was left to unpack and clean the place up. I continued to bleed throughout those days leading up to this point, nothing so bad as the first night mind you, much more like a normal period but it dragged on and on. I was on the verge of tears continuously, I didn't sleep much. I became gradually withdrawn, sitting staring into space trying to process everything that had happened. I couldn't get my head around it all, so much had happened. I'd left a job I really liked for the past five years, I'd left the people I loved there, they were my support network through anything and I'd left when I needed them most. A miscarriage is truly awful at the best of times never mind when we were buying our first home, moving in and starting new jobs each. I've often thought whether it was that stress of the house that caused the miscarriage, is there anything I could have done differently? Should I have exercised more or less? Should I have changed my diet? All these unanswered questions spun around in my head from the moment I woke up until I finally got to sleep at night. 

I tried meditation to calm myself down, every night before bedtime I would sit in the dark and try so hard to clear my mind. I think it did help in some way, it helped me get to sleep faster but I don't know if that was my body shutting myself down. Unfortunately it didn't keep me asleep, I'd wake two, three, four times each night at least and struggle to get back to sleep again. When I was asleep I had vivid dreams, not nightmares as such where I'd wake up covered in a sheen of sweat but disturbing dreams where I would go through the miscarriage all over again. In other dreams I would be judged and spat at for miscarrying, like I had a choice. I would try explaining to the crowds of people surrounding me while I caught the clots in my trembling hands that this isn't what I wanted, I never ever wanted to lose this baby, it was snatched from me cruelly, unfairly and I couldn't help what was happening to me. There was another dream where I went though the miscarriage again then the next second I was looking at tiny feet in my hands, they were almost translucent, pink and wrinkly little things, unmoving and clammy. 

A couple of days later I went to our new local hospital for another scan to check the medical management had expelled all of the pregnancy tissue. Rob was at work, I know he would have come but with him starting a new job he didn't want to start on the wrong foot so his mum came with me. We waited in another early pregnancy unit waiting room, everyone had anxious faces. I don't know how anyone could work there, I couldn't drag myself out of bed everyday to see so much pain. Finally we were called in, there was a consultant and a sonographer in the room and they scanned me internally, I laid on the bed, I craned my neck round once again, Bean was gone. Tears rolled from the corners of my eyes and gathered in my hair and ears. Our Little Bean had let go of me. My mother-in-law held my hand tight, I had no words, just tremendous sadness knotted in my throat I could scarcely breathe. The miscarriage was over, it had taken four weeks. We were led into an office room, a different nurse came in with my paperwork and explained my uterus lining was still a little thickened. Again they gave me my options, wait two weeks, medical management or surgery. I couldn't take it anymore! I said surgery but the nurse was reluctant, she said it wouldn't normally be done that way for a thickened lining. I pushed further, I didn't want medical management again and I'd waited too long, I needed this to be over so I could start gathering my life back together again. She left the room and I went to do another pregnancy test, I noticed as I was walking back there was a heated discussion going on in the scanning room but I didn't think much of it and took my seat to wait for the nurse. A few minutes later she appeared and immediately said "I'm sorry but forget everything I just said ten minutes ago." The notes were wrong, Bean's gestational sac had been retained in my womb, the medical management had failed to a degree. Bean was still gone, he had let go and was now at peace but my body was desperately trying to keep hold of whatever was left of him. I really believe my grief had affected how my body reacted to the medication, I wasn't ready to let go, so I didn't. 

I broke down again, one minute I was being told that only a layer of uterine lining remained now I was told the medical management had only partially worked. I couldn't take this roller coaster of information. I couldn't take those medical management pills again. The nurse was horrified that a mistake had been made hence the heated discussion I had accidentally overheard. She told us that the consultant was able to perform surgery on me after seeing how emotional I was in the scanning room. It was by chance she was in there otherwise I may not have been given the choice of surgery. I was booked in to have the procedure the following morning and I went home feeling I'd been battered. My head throbbed, my eyes were puffy and bloodshot from crying, the darkness surrounding me slowly closed in. My soul dissolved a little further into nothingness.

I can't remember talking to Rob that night, I was numb, grief had enveloped me I guess as a coping mechanism, a sort of grief coma. My brain only contained thoughts of Bean and of surgery.

Refusing to let go

Hi everyone, I hope you are all well and continuing to enjoy the nice weather. This weekend has been a tiring one as I walked just over 20 hilly miles with my dad, uncle and mother-in-law over the North Yorkshire Moors. It's fair to say I am aching today but it was a stunningly pretty walk, although very hard and I had to be patched up throughout, thank goodness for compeed blister patches!

My last post covered probably the first week or so of the "two week wait" leading up to Christmas 2015, I'll carry on from there...

Our Christmas of 2015 was the worst of my whole life, in fact it didn't happen, to us it was another day there was no cheer or celebration. We had no Christmas dinner, no presents, no Christmas tree, it was dire. We were deep in grief and I was on the hunt for answers why we had miscarried. I am a biological scientist and as a scientist I naturally need answers and understand why things happen. I'm one of those people who search their symptoms on the internet for example. 

I found the common causes of miscarriage - mostly a defect in the genetic or chromosomal make up of the embryo either caused by a dodgy egg or sperm where nothing can be done. But I did come across other websites stating that too much Vitamin C can cause miscarriage and there were even websites giving instructions on how to bring on a miscarriage for unwanted pregnancies. It basically said to overdose on the fizzy multivitamins and it would cause a miscarriage. I must admit I did try this method as the two weeks wore on but it did not work. I was pretty shocked there are these websites out there basically saying how to have a home-made abortion in my opinion. I found other websites claiming menthol caused miscarriage, this worried me greatly as I'd had a terrible cold the same day as I started spotting and I had used menthol crystals the help with my congested sinuses, although I had researched before using them and had mixed reviews I'd taken no other medication and was suffering greatly so I used the crystals. That played on my mind quite a bit, I couldn't forgive myself if Bean had died because of something I did. But Bean had stopped growing 2 weeks before that point so that couldn't have been the cause. I also researched into miscarriage-causing foods in case I had eaten something I shouldn't have and it came up with cinnamon as a possible cause, again this brought up a lot of concern for me as I had eaten porridge with cinnamon on almost everyday of my pregnancy. I was becoming frantic trying to find a reason, something or someone to blame. Of course I blamed myself entirely even though there was nothing I could have done. Luckily throughout this frantic period Rob was there all the time, he gently brought me back down to earth giving me the facts that there was no one at fault, we both did everything we could have done for Bean, his  genetics just weren't compatible with life, no one is to blame.

While I was making unhealthy internet searches Rob on the other hand was making much healthier ones, at the hospital I'd been directed to the Miscarriage Association website but had failed to go on there, Rob however had made an account for the forum for me to get support from others who had suffered loss. The people on there really are amazing, each message is moderated and the moderators themselves sometimes send personalised messages to you via email. I would guess all of the people responding to forum posts have experienced loss whether it be miscarriage, missed miscarriage, blighted ovum, chemical pregnancy etc. Although it was a little while until I used the website myself once I did it really did help me hugely and because it was linked to Rob's email address he saw my posts once he had a notification that it had been approved. So even when I was very closed off it allowed him to see what I was feeling at that time. 

The two week wait drew to a close, the new year was approaching, our property contract was almost signed, my last day of my job was on its way, but my body refused to give up our Little Bean. We went back to the hospital on the 30th December for another scan via the park and ride as the parking situation at the hospital was so bad. They scanned me and confirmed what I already knew, I had not miscarried naturally, I still retained Bean even though I had had a few more spotting spells. The gestational sac was steadily breaking down, Bean still measured 4mm no more than 6 weeks gestation, in normal circumstances I should have been around 11 weeks. It broke my heart anew when I saw him again on the screen, why was life so cruel? I couldn't believe we had to go through this pain. 

After the scan the Doctor gave us our options again, we could wait another two weeks, have medical management, or surgery. The idea of waiting another two weeks was not an option now as I was soon to start my new job in Cambridge on the 11th January. Surgery frightened me having never experienced anything like that before and we'd have to wait a few days so we opted for medical management, equally terrifying but I couldn't let this linger on for much longer, I needed some sort of end so I could start to grieve properly and process everything that had happened and start to rebuild myself. 

We were sent off and I had some bloods taken, I don't remember what for, possibly to determine pregnancy hormone levels and blood type but not sure. Then we waited around two hours for those blood test results. We came back to the Early Pregnancy Unit, we were the last to be seen for the day, the nurse explained the tablets to be inserted vaginally cause the cervix to dilate and bring on the miscarriage. Another tablet would be inserted anally, an antibiotic to prevent any infection. And strong painkillers to be taken anally and orally. She explained I could experience period-type cramping that could feel quite severe and will obviously have heavy bleeding. Any very severe pain or very heavy bleeding and we should go to A&E. I signed a bunch of stuff saying I understood and agreed to the procedure. We were almost ready to go, in passing she asked where we were parked and we explained we had used the park and ride as that was advised since the parking at the hospital was so terrible. She stopped dead and said she couldn't allow me to go through with the procedure then travel back to the car via bus. I totally accept that and it was nice she was looking out for us but why couldn't she have explained that beforehand!? We'd just been waiting over two hours. It was just another stress on top of everything else, Rob had to get back to the car as quickly as he could and get back to the hospital again which took over half an hour. 

Depending on the hospital you are in depends on how they handle medical management of miscarriage, where we were the nurse explained to me how the tablets should be inserted as I had to do it myself. She put us both in a small room with a bed and a curtain, laid out the tablets, left the room and locked the door. I inserted the tablets with tears steaming down my face soaking the pillow behind my head while Rob held my hand standing by the bed. I couldn't believe this was happening. My brain could not process the situation at all. When it was done I was given a large square pad to sit on and a thick pregnancy sanitary pad, I was told to expect the miscarriage to start in the next two hours.

As mentioned earlier we were nearing completion of buying our first home while all of this was going on. On this particular day Rob and his dad were meant to have been packing up all of our furniture to temporarily store. We were due to get the keys and move out of our current place on Monday 4th January, the 30th December was the only day they could hire a van in time. We were moving two and a half hours drive away and the van hire was in Rob's name from a depot where we were moving to. It's a little complicated but a long story short it meant that I would end up being on my own at home while the tablets were taking affect, having been quite a solitary couple we didn't have anyone nearby who could look after me while Rob was gone. Luckily though one of my best friends Vicky came to the rescue, she travelled down from Leeds at short notice to make sure I was ok, we watched Bridget Jones' Diary and laughed and cried. She got me talking about other things whenever I became quiet, I was scared of the pain and what I will see in the next few hours, there was going to be a lot of blood, would I see our Little Bean? Will I miss seeing him? I think I was more scared of missing him and not seeing the foetal tissue. 

Rob and his dad were packing away our furniture while me and Vicky watched films, slowly our rental house became more and more empty. By the time the van was packed up we only had a couple of camping chairs and a blow up mattress left. About 4 hours passed before the bleeding started, I passed a small handful of clot rich with blood which plopped into the toilet, even though I didn't have a lot of pain it was a very frightening experience seeing all of that blood in the toilet water. It physically felt odd as well, I would feel a clot begin to make it way down and get the the bathroom in time pretty much every time. After the first clot I even caught the others in my hand before looking at them closely to see if there was any grey foetal tissue there. I really don't know if that was healthy behaviour or not, I think it was a mixture of scientific curiosity and the fear of not seeing our baby after effectively giving birth to him, I think there was an element of still not wanting to let go as well so catching what was leaving me seemed to make sense. I did see some jelly-like substance during that night with a tiny Bean-shaped blob nestled inside, we believe that was our Little Bean. I didn't keep the tissue, parts of me wish I did, but I threw it down the loo. I must admit I feel pretty guilty about that. But I take comfort in believing we saw our Bean.

After the van was packed and Rob's dad had driven away, Vicky left us, I won't be able to thank her enough for what she did for me that night. She was truly amazing and made me laugh while I was going through the most awful procedure. We slept on a blow up mattress that night, I awoke often and bled steadily. The smell of blood was strong in the room and Rob had to wake me once because of the smell and I passed a large clot, again into my own hand then into the toilet. Up to this point I hadn't required the strong painkillers but during that night I had experienced stronger cramping and in order to try get some sleep I took some of the codeine.

The next day was my last day of my job, of course I wouldn't have normally have gone in after the medical management but I needed to clear my desk and say goodbye to my work colleagues as I'd not seen them in two weeks. I still can't believe I went in at all but I even did some work as well, I can't have been in my right mind. I was still bleeding but it was much like a normal period now, all of the clots had been passed the previous night, I still felt some tenderness and took the codeine as and when I needed. 

That takes us to the end of 2015, needless to say New Year's Eve was much like Christmas, there was nothing to celebrate and I was in bed (the blow up bed I mean) and asleep by 9pm. I was exhausted, my body had finally shut me down, I'm surprised I'd even got as far as I did. The amount of stress was enormous with the moving house stuff on top of the miscarriage. 

Phew! That was a really long post, apologies for that, I thought I'd make up for the shorter one from last week by getting to the end of 2015 in this one. It covers only a week or so but so much happened in that week. It marks the end of the first part of my story. As always thank you so much for reading and if you have any similar experiences feel free to comment. I'm particularly interested in whether others have had to administer their own miscarriage tablets for medical management like I had to.

Thanks a lot,

Love, Adele xxxx

The two week wait

Happy Easter everyone, I hope you are having a pleasant long weekend and indulged sufficiently in Easter eggs and hot cross buns! I've been spending a lot of time in the garden, we are preparing the ground for turf at the moment and it take a lot of time and graft!

I've felt reluctant to write this week, not entirely sure why. I guess the prospect of delving into those dark days is scary.

As we travelled home that day we didn't talk much, I looked out of the window and watched the world blur as tears filled my eyes and trickled hot down my cheeks. My head throbbed and my bones felt heavy, time ran ahead of me while I was transfixed on the spot in that moment when we were told Bean had died. I realise now that time did not move for a very long time for me after that moment. There was a song that has stayed with me throughout this whole experience and I remember it now as Bean's song. It came on the radio and finished just as we were pulling up to our driveway, it was Ghostpoet - Be Right Back, Moving House. I'd never heard it before but it really spoke to me this song, it repeats the lyrics "one day at a time" I took it as a sign and this song became part of my grief and a sort of mantra. 

The two weeks after the news of Bean's death were truly awful, I couldn't face anything, I informed my employer what had happened and my manager was extremely understanding and said to have as much time off as I needed. I barely left the house, in fact I barely left the sofa. I became numb and the world began to darken around me. I'd spoken to my mum and she told me about her suspected miscarriage before I was born, she didn't know she was pregnant at the time and went to the Dr after having an unusually heavy period, they said it was probably a miscarriage and nothing more was done. She hadn't even told my dad about it so that news came out all at the same time, my dad had lost a grandchild and possibly a child all at the same time. 

I became a shell of myself, I don't know how Rob coped, I wasn't there for him, I wasn't there full stop. I'm sorry I wasn't there Rob, I'm sorry you had to keep everything afloat on your own while having to deal with the news yourself. I just stopped functioning, it was uncontrollable grief. Uncontrollable shock. How could this have happened? I can't describe the type of anxiety felt when you dread going to the loo in case you see the start of a miscarriage in your underwear. The tumbling doom when you wake up from a restless nights sleep and you remember what has happened, that sickness in your stomach when reality hits and it wasn't a nightmare.

Christmas approached and we agreed not to bother with a tree or presents. We were thinking of not having a tree as we were very close to completing our house purchase so it wasn't a shock really. I'd had no signs of natural miscarriage, no pain, no blood, no nothing. Part of me thought maybe the Drs got it wrong, maybe Bean was ok, but that feeling would only last a few fleeting seconds and I'd crash down to earth again and be swallowed by grief. 

I started writing as an outlet and meditating to try bring down the stress I felt. I'm going to copy some of the letter I wrote to Bean now.

"I'm sorry I have taken so long to write. Like you I have been here and not here. It had been the worst time of my life. I have felt utterly useless and numb. I've hated myself for not being a better place for you to grow and thrive. I have cried and cried. I have blamed myself for telling too many people too soon. I have to-and-fro-ed about taking medical management so the process will be done and I can grieve for you properly. I've wanted to be so close to your Dad and on my own at the same time. I've wanted to hibernate until you are ready to come out. I'm scared of seeing you - what if I miss you and don't realise you have come out? I'm scared of the pain, where, when it will be, Christmas is so close. I want to run and sleep at the same time. I will run again but it's so hard to get out the door. I knitted clothes for you what do I do with them now? I had already attached them to you? Do hand-me-downs still work when the original recipient hasn't even touched them? I want to eat and starve, I feel I should punish myself.

I don't know how to end this letter. Apart from say how much Mam and Dad love you. And love will remain. We will never forget you. And I am sorry, I'm sorry I let you down. I will miss you forever, I'm sorry your life was so short. The universe is cruel. There will never be another Bean. You are Bean. I love you, I love you, my Little Bean. Love, Mammy xxx"

Reading the hand-written letter in a frantic scrawled manner has brought up a lot of feelings for me there. I can see already that I was going down the hole of depression, I wrote about punishing myself and I remember censoring myself in the letter because I thought Rob would read it but I felt suicidal. I had failed as a woman, I didn't carry a healthy child, I was ashamed and felt I didn't deserve anything. I wanted to hurt myself, I wanted to feel even more pain than I already did. I started saying "what is the point" to myself a lot. I gritted my teeth so hard it hurt to stifle the sobs, I pulled at my hair for the pain sensation. I peeled the skin off my fingers to reveal tender flesh below, I stung all over. 

Going back to those days is very painful but it really tells me how far I've come and how much stronger I am. I'm a strong woman! I mentioned at the start of this post that I was reluctant to write, but now I feel tough and powerful. Everything will be ok because the worst has been already. 

Thank you for reading,

Lots of love, Adele xxxx

The stages of grief: Denial

Hey all, I hope you are enjoying the beautiful weather like we are this week! Over 20 degrees today in Peterborough, pretty much unheard of in April! As well as saying hello to mr sunshine again I have been tracking my cycle in preparation for ttc and I received a letter confirming a genetic consultation appointment has been made for me on the 16th May to discuss the possibility of having genetic testing done on me and my husband Rob. It's been a bit of a struggle even getting to this point but I'm glad I'm in the system now and I'll at least be able to discuss my options with a specialist. I'm preparing myself for refusal for the tests so I want to have my argument ready in my head for the appointment. If anyone has gone through genetic testing before after multiple losses please get in touch with me and share your experiences, I'm pretty anxious about the whole thing.

I'll carry on with Bean's story, last week I was talking about how we had gone back to the early pregnancy unit for our first scan.

Our turn came and we entered the scanning room. We explained the brown spotting and minor car accident and they did an internal scan. We saw Little Bean on the screen and he was so cute (we thought Bean was a boy from the beginning). He actually looked like a Bean and measured 4mm from crown to rump, he had a little tail still like a tadpole. The sonographer asked us how many weeks we were and I said eight. She said Bean was measuring at 6 weeks, I was sure my dates were correct but I thought it was possible for me to count from the day of conception and the hospital could have been counting from the first day of my last period. As a precaution she suggested we have another scan in a weeks time, and we came out of the scan pretty much fine. I was confused by the discrepancy in dates and was a little anxious but that was all.

Since we'd been having to go to Warwick the whole time for these scans we asked if we could book the next one in the John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford which was fine. I rang my gp for a referral and explained our situation, while speaking to her she said it was important to get another scan to find out if the pregnancy had mistaken dates or was "a no-goer from the start." At the time I found these use of words pretty insensitive but thinking now I think her choice of words out right shocking and I will never forget that. I understand that GPs will come across stuff like that all the time but to use those words while talking to an anxious patient was not professional in my opinion.

Before long our next scan came along in Oxford in the early pregnancy unit, during the week leading up to it I'd received a text from the hospital alerting me to our 12 week scan scheduled for 30th December 2015. Whenever Rob and I talked about Bean we only wanted to see some growth, we knew a heartbeat may not be detected at only 7 weeks (judging by the first sonographer's prediction) so we just wanted to see Bean bigger than 4mm long.

 I remember feeling desperate for the loo before the scan as they said they may do a normal external scan first, they were also running late with the appointments as an emergency case had come in. By the time our appointment finally came the nurse said they'd do an internal scan anyway so I was allowed to go to the loo! Again they asked how many weeks and we explained our dates and the scan dates. Then they scanned me, she was quiet for a little while while I craned my head round to see Bean on the screen. Then I heard "sorry". In those first moments I remember everything and nothing at the same time. I remember gasping and my hand on my mouth, I remember lying there with rob beside me on the chair wondering what had just happened. I broke down into a fit of emotion and didn't hear anything like I was enveloped in a cloud. My world pretty much crashed at that moment, it changed forever. There had been no growth, no heartbeat, Bean had not grown for the past 3 weeks. 

Before I knew it I had been bundled into a spare consultation room, they had to move me quickly so they didn't frighten the other expectant mothers in the waiting room, I had to try and hold my emotions for those few steps to the room. We were left in there for what seemed like an age, I have no idea how long it actually was. I cried, I begged, I crumpled into a heap on the chair, the whole world seemed to darken around me like I was in a tunnel. I remember being lifted onto my feet by Rob, he was so strong emotionally while I fell apart, I can't imagine the pain he felt at that moment, because even though we didn't know it then, he was about to lose his baby and his wife all at the same time. 

I buried my face into his chest as we stood there together while the world around us fell apart. I don't remember if I spoke, I can imagine myself asking questions out loud but I don't know what they were. My mind became a fog, a very dark, cold, foggy place. I don't remember anything Rob said I just felt everything close in around me.

Eventually someone came in to see us, she asked if I had any pregnancy symptoms, I told her I hadn't suffered morning sickness but had had some severe fatigue that had improved over the last few weeks. She then proceeded to tell us our "options". First was to wait two weeks to see if my body would recognise the missed miscarriage and react accordingly. Second was medical management of the missed miscarriage where tablets would be inserted to bring on a miscarriage. And the third was surgical management. How dare they give me these options when 30mins before I thought I would have a healthy baby inside me? How could they talk to me about inducing miscarriage so early after I was told? There was no way I was ready to let Bean go, so I opted for conservative management, I was to wait two weeks and see if I would miscarry naturally. 

Now it's been a while since this happened I can look back with a different mindset. In hindsight when the nurse had asked me about my symptoms I understand now that my energy levels had started picking up again around the time that Bean had ceased to grow. I wish she had explained that Bean was measuring at 6 weeks while I was at 9weeks pregnant, meaning he had not grown for 3 weeks, I wish she would have explained the likelihood of my body realising in another two weeks that Bean had died when it had failed to realise for 3 weeks already. Maybe I still would have gone with the conservative choice and waited, maybe I would have thought about medical management. Maybe I wouldn't have heard her even if she had told me these things. Maybe she would have said these things if I wasn't such a mess to begin with. Either way I opted to wait the two weeks to see if I would miscarry naturally, I see now I was probably in denial which I believe was totally understandable for the time frame, everything seemed to move so fast in terms of the next steps but the time in my mind seemed to be moving through treacle. I couldn't process the information I had been given, so there was no way I was going to make a big decision like medical management. After the decision was made we were given another appointment for two weeks time - which happened to be the 30th December 2015, our original 12 week scan date which I thought was incredibly cruel then we were sent home.

While writing this portion of the blog I asked Rob if he felt he had any say in that decision making process. He felt like he didn't really have a say but that was because he wasn't carrying Bean so it was ultimately my decision. Later on in the blog I'd like to get a fathers point of view when it comes to miscarriage, I think it would be beneficial for Rob and myself to get it written down. 

That's all for today, thank you for reading and if you have any comments or similar experiences get in contact.

Love, Adele xxx

Fairytale starts to fade

Hey everybody! The past week has been pretty good for me, I've been learning to use Instagram for the first time and now have a page Our.Pale.Days. I'm posting as often as I can so while I delve into my past here, my present life will be documented there until my story catches up to itself. Please add me if you are interested in my tale of Bean and Passenger. 

Now I'll continue Bean's story..

At the beginning of December we arranged to go up North to visit my parents for an early Christmas, we were both looking forward to seeing the family and I was happy my fatigue and achey boobs had eased off considerably.

It was the Friday before we went to see my parents, I was at home waiting for Rob to come home from work. I went to the loo and saw brown discharge on the toilet tissue after wiping. I remember a wave of terror run through me like pins and needles. There wasn't very much on the tissue and nothing in my knickers but I rang Rob straight away and he suggested ringing NHS 111 - a free 24hour number patients can ring for advice on symptoms that are not serious enough for A&E. The man on the phone was pretty good, he asked me if I had had any pain and whether any of the blood was red rather than brown. I'd had no other symptoms and he referred me to a doctor who rang me back within an hour or so who asked me the same questions again. There had been no change in my symptoms and no more blood was seen. She said it wasn't uncommon to see dark blood during the first trimester of pregnancy but to take thing easy for the next few days. She also said not to travel, which admittedly I ignored as we were due to visit my family 5hours away by car the next day. I figured As Rob always does the driving all I would be doing is sitting in the car and what difference is that to sitting at home on the sofa?

My anxiety continued to rise when Rob came home that evening and I cried and I was scared and frightened. I researched extensively what brown blood in first trimester meant. Although it came up with the word miscarriage it also associated it with abdominal pain and bright red blood and heavy bleeding all of which I didn't have at all. 

The next morning we travelled to my parents and actually had a great early Christmas. We didn't mention the brown spotting and I remained on the plan of not eating soft cheese or drinking.

On the Sunday we set off home again, we'd managed a pretty good run and hadn't even had a break on the 5 hour drive. During a 40mph stretch along the motorway the car overtaking us momentarily distracted Rob with his lights in the wing mirror as he passed. The car in front of us broke suddenly and I shouted, Rob broke as hard as he could but there wasn't enough room and we hit the car in front at around 25-30mph. No damage was made to either drivers or passengers and the cars didn't suffer much but I instantly thought of Bean. I had no pain but I rang 111 again and explained the situation. They suggested that we go to A&E to be checked over. 

We waited around 3 hours in Warwick A&E before I was seen, again I had no pain during that time or bleeding or any sort. They did a pregnancy test which came back positive and booked me in for an early scan the next day. Needless to say that night was an anxious and sleepless one but I was hopeful, Bean was safely nestled deep in my pelvis as I was only around 8 weeks, I'd had no pain and no bleeding. I tried to keep calm and I didn't want to upset Bean by being stressed.

At the time I thought I was stressed out and anxious but knowing what I know now, I had no idea what stress was then and I was very naive. Even though we knew of the first 12 weeks being the danger zone of pregnancy it was only a little seed of doubt in my mind and I never really thought anything was wrong, after all we were two young healthy individuals who had only taken 3 months to conceive. 

So we went along to the early scan at Warwick hospital (a little way from Oxfordshire where we rented a little place). As we waited I saw the anxious faces around us, a couple in particular really stick in my mind. I young woman and I guess to be her boyfriend or husband came out of the scanning room, their faces were grave and I overheard the girl say "I knew it, I knew it." The partner didn't say anything as he carried her coat and bag. It was obvious they'd been given bad news and a relayed it to Rob with a look. They sat back into the waiting area which struck me as odd at the time but I guess they were to go into another room to be given their options. I was extremely sorry to see that couple and felt awful for them but it didn't phase me in terms of Bean and our pregnancy, Bean was fine, I'd had no pain, the crash was very minor and the only concern was the brown spotting from Friday which had not occurred since. 

I'll leave it there for this week, I'm trying to keep my word count down per post but if you think it's too long or short please let me know and I'll change the count accordingly.

Hope you have a great week and remember to follow our.pale.days on instagram!

Lots of love, Adele xxx