This past week

Before I begin I'd like to wish a Happy Father's Day to all daddy's of angels, all of your babies too beautiful for this world are looking down on you, you are all amazing fathers. 

This week has been one of my darkest for a long while. I'm now on CD37 with no sign of anything changing, I've had neither fertile cervical fluid or any signs of a period. It's really been getting me down even though this is what I expected after surgery. I was also due to attend a Hen weekend for one of my best friends who happens to be pregnant. I thought I'd be ok with it but on Thursday I was so anxious and crying at work I didn't know what to do. I've felt so broken and damaged, when will my body get better? Am I destined not to have children? 

I texted my friend on the Thursday warning her that I was not in my right mind and I'd either not be able to go or if I did attend I would come home early. She was really understanding but really hoped I would be able to go. I'd already booked the Friday off in order to travel to Leeds for the hen do but wasn't due to travel until the afternoon so I made an appointment for the doctors in the morning. I told her I was sick of being broken and I didn't know what to do. Admittedly I'd started taking my antidepressants every other day as I was experiencing some side effects, she said it would be better to take a half the dosage every days rather than take one every other day so that's what I've started doing. She assured me that side effects are temporary but I'm still waiting for that to happen. She did have the results of mine and my husbands chromosome testing which thankfully were both normal. So it seems that Bean and Passengers deaths were a case of terrible luck. Although we will be at a slightly higher risk of anencephaly as we'd experienced it before it is much lower than if the cytogenetisists had found any chromosomal translocations. I was surprised the results were ready so early as we had been told 8-9weeks so I was expecting the results to be available at the end of July. Although I can see the positives from getting these results and we are capable of producing a healthy baby it doesn't really help my current situation in terms of feeling very low and anxious and most importantly the fact my cycles are non-existent at the moment.

I said this to the doctor and she asked if I was going to counselling. I replied that I'd been seeing a counsellor for over a year and although it was a good thing to talk things through it can also make the pain raw for a lot longer as you're constantly bringing everything up again, making it difficult to heal. I mentioned that I was writing this blog and that it had some therapeutic effect but I didn't know what else I could do. She only said that I was doing everything I can, but she suggested trying to not get so stressed, don't track cycles and periods or look for signs of fertility or infertility, go on holiday somewhere and try to get some sort of normality back to my life. This is a doctor suggesting these things to me. I have been grieving for two babies for 18 months, this is normal for me now. This is my life. It's impossible for me not to track cycles anymore, I don't deliberately look for signs, I just see them when they're there! So in short she did nothing for me and I came out in tears, I already knew they wouldn't do anything for me as that's what had happened before but it still hurt. 

I got home and wondered if I was well enough to attend the hen party, every time I thought of a group of girls together for a weekend it made me feel sick. I felt terrible but I couldn't put myself through that. I told the bride to be that I was unable to go. I just wanted to be with Rob this weekend, I needed some stability.

I hope she had a fabulous time, I know if I had been there I would have brought everyone else down. It's just too hard for me to see pregnant ladies right now, no matter how close they are to me. I'm anxious about next month when my pregnant sister in law comes home from Australia. I just hope my mind is in a better place by then.

It's pretty ironic how last week I was remembering another hen do and how it had helped me see the world again when this week I've been crippled at the thought of going to another one. 

My head is still all over the place right now so the thought of delving back into the past tells me I'm not strong enough. Sorry guys, I hope next week I'll be back with you all.

Stay strong,

Adele

Sick Leave

Hey everyone, I hope your week has been a good one and you have celebrated World Gin day yesterday! Along with stripping wallpaper I've mostly been watching the new series of House of Cards, oh my god, what a series! I'm addicted! On a ttc related note, I'm currently on CD30 and pretty convinced I've failed to ovulate this month. I'm thinking of trying out ovulation tests again although they weren't very reliable when I used them the first time round. we have also seen Bean's apple tree starting to fruit! We are delighted and surprised that a tree so young would bear so much fruit, we will see in the next few months how many mature.

I finished my last post with me crying on the toilet floor at work, it was one of the lowest points since Bean died. The next day I rang in sick to work and tried to get a doctors appointment but there were none available. I didn't know where to turn. Robs youngest sister took me to a walk in clinic to see if they could write me a doctors note but they didn't have the authorisation. I felt completely let down, I was numb, my world was black and I was just led from place to place for someone to listen to me. The day after I managed to get an appointment with a doctor. I don't remember what I said or what she said but I was given a doctors note for 2 weeks sick leave. It was the first time I had discussed what had happened to a doctor since having surgery 3 months before. I'd had no follow up appointment for physical or mental health I was just left to cope and get on with things myself. 

I sent off the sick note and got home, there I was consumed by my grief, I couldn't crawl out of the hole I'd found myself in, I wallowed in self pity. I missed Bean, I missed being pregnant, I missed the future I had dreamed of. All of it had been scrubbed out and I didn't know why. I knew I should have been doing something with the house, wallpaper stripping or gardening, something like that but I couldn't bring myself to do it. Hannah kept telling me to do things that made me happy, self-loving; but how could I do that when I repulsed myself? I hated myself, I hated my insides for not being good enough for Bean to survive and hated them even more for not going back to how they were in terms of cycles and periods and hormones. My body was a dead zone as far as I was concerned, neither pregnant or fertile. It was merely a shell I wanted to break free from but didn't have the energy to do so.

Hannah was with me almost everyday of those two weeks, I don't even know what we did I was in such a different world, I just coasted along. When we weren't together I drowned my mind with Netflix (House of Cards actually) and reading. I ate too much and didn't exercise which contributed to my self loathing even more. 

Towards the end of the two weeks I saw another doctor, I felt awful there was no way I was well enough to go back to work. Two weeks had done nothing as I knew it would. Why would they think two weeks off would heal the trauma, pain and heartbreak I'd been through? Had they been through this type of loss? Did they understand at all?

I was advised to take another 4 weeks sick leave. I started looking into spiritual ways of letting go of grief and getting a normal cycle back. I restarted meditation, particularly chakra meditation and using crystals. I tried getting back into yoga during this time but I didn't stick with it long, I think I had taken on a bit too much all in one go. But I did try grief meditation; a guided meditation where you are with your loved one and remembering them. I found that really nice even though I cried the whole time, Bean was at peace and he wanted me to be too. He didn't want me to be sad or hurt and I keep that thought with me now whenever I do feel down. I started trying to write down 3 things I had achieved that day while I was off. Most of the time it would involve exercise of some sort or logging a meditation session, other times I couldn't think of three things and I felt extremely low. My confidence was at rock bottom, not just because of the grief but because of the job I had found myself in, I was grossly over qualified but I felt that I wasn't even good enough for that. I started applying for other very low paid jobs but closer to home, thinking back it shows I was thinking in a slightly wider circle at this point if I was thinking of and applying to jobs, even if they were not suitable for my skill set. I also started one of those relaxation colouring books and dedicated it to Bean which took me out of my own mind at least for a little while. 

My mum and dad took me to York while I was off which was a great chance for a change of scenery, it was nice to get away from everything that reminded me of my loss. I associated our new home with Bean's death, in fact I associated the whole new town we lived in with Bean. I hated it all. I actually didn't want to live there and Rob and I had briefly discussed selling up within the first three months of moving in. To this day I still don't feel settled here, I say it's home but I can't say if it ever will be. The fact is that our lives have never been so traumatic since we moved here.

A week or so before the 4 weeks sick leave ended I was due to attend a Hen Do in Nottingham. I really didn't want to go to be honest, I felt I would bring everyone down. I didn't want to answer questions like "when are you going to try for a baby?" After going through loss I don't ask those types of questions anymore because you have no idea what the couple have been through or are currently going through. I know no one would purposefully ask me in order to cause upset but a lot of the time people don't know how much others are affected by the things they say. 

After some persuasion I packed my bags ready to go. It was hard being around a big group, never mind a group I didn't know. I think I only knew one girl besides the Bride-to-be but I tried to play that to my advantage. I planned to listen and not talk much, then I'd just come across as a quiet girl rather than if I'd known all the people and acted in that way everyone would know something was up as I was normally an outgoing bubbly person. I played the shy girl as best I could, I sat in the background and listened to the others and the weekend turned out much better than I expected and by the end of the weekend something amazing happened. 

We were walking back to the train station and I remember seeing the buildings around me. I didn't just look at the buildings but I SAW them. I didn't look at the ground oblivious to everything around me, I started turning my head, I saw the streets, I saw the cross roads, I even saw the sky. Slowly the dark curtain veiling my eyes was being pulled back just a tiny bit. It was incredible. The pinprick I was seeing life through had opened slightly. And it didn't only allow me to see but it allowed me to feel again. I consciously gripped my mini suitcase and felt the handle. I cautiously held out my other hand and ran it along the brick of a building as I lagged behind the rest of the group. I felt the breeze and lifted my face towards the spring sun. It sounds crazy but it was like I was experiencing these things for the first time. It dawned on me how long I had been ill for and how much I desperately wanted to be better. I had a new hope, I knew then that I had turned a corner on my road through grief to acceptance. 

That's it for today, a little shorter than usual but I wanted to end on a positive note. I will never forget walking through Nottingham that day, it blew my mind to see the world again. I hope this can give others hope and show that things won't be terrible forever.

Stay strong,

Adele xxx

Darkness Descends

Hi everybody, I hope this post finds you well! My week has been long and tiring, work has been stressful and full on due to understaffing and a mountain of work to get through! Been rushing around like a blue-arsed fly! I've managed to start running again properly this week which I think has helped my low moments in my mood as I have been feeling a bit up and down. I'm on CD23 and still haven't seen any ewcm although I have seen some changes in my cf I'm not convinced anything significant is happening so I'm pretty frustrated and anxious. I've been on sertraline 50mg for around 3 weeks now so the drug will be truly in my system, I think it is taking the edge off most days but now I'm unable to reach climax! Apparently it's a fairly common side effect but that doesn't take away the frustration!

For the last couple of weeks I've been posting Rob's point of view on the loss of our Little Bean, I hope it has given an insight on how the father has to deal with more than the mother in some respects as he loses a child and has to care for the grieving mother. In this post I'll go back to my point of view again, I had just gone through surgery to remove Bean's gestational sac and was about to start my new job in Cambridge the following Monday.

I did think should I start a new job after going through so much trauma but I really didn't want my new employer to think badly of me instantly by delaying my start date. I had recovered from surgery very well in the weekend afterwards and I was keen to start a fresh and put the horrible-ness behind me. The role was based in a hospital within the Histology department, from my understanding I would be collecting fresh organs from theatre and dissecting them to be stored in the Tissue Bank primary collaborated for research purposes. In reality I couldn't be further from the truth, it's true I was to collect fresh specimens from theatre but the rest of the job role was quite a shock to me. I was a glorified cleaner, cleaning the blood and gore from the safety cabinets in the laboratory where cut up took place. I did stock takes of the lab equipment, I scanned and copied documents, i couriered bloods from one part of the hospital to the other. Don't get me wrong, all of these roles help keep a lab ticking over but I was shocked at the relatively slow pace and how the restricted the job was. After working in a very busy lab for five years previously as a lab technician cleaning up blood and guts was a big step in the wrong direction. This was reflected in my pay packet as well, I'd lost 10k per annum. I know some of you might think well how come you didn't know that job role before you started? How come you didn't realise after seeing what salary you were being offered? And yes I agree I should have realised, I did expect a different job, less responsibility to what I was used to but not so little as that, I was amazed and within a few weeks I knew it wasn't the job for me. I was grossly overqualified and I had taken it to ensure pay would be coming in when we moved house. 

My mental health dwindled sharply, I had moved away from my support network in my previous job which was extremely important to me, I was in a new neighbourhood that I didn't know, in a house I didn't really have any attachment to and that needed a lot of work doing to it and was in a job I detested which I found demeaning and boring. I think anyone in my position not even taking into account a miscarriage would have felt similar. I became very depressed throughout the month of January, I felt my soul had died, I wasn't me anymore. I was only a shell of a person with dead eyes merely surviving the days. I often wept on my way into work and during work hours. Our days were long with long breaks so it was hard not to get absorbed into my own thoughts and only think of Bean and what I had lost. I read book after book in the Histology tea room to escape my own sad existence, no one knew anything of my struggles or the loss I had suffered until one day I couldn't take it anymore, I was so upset one morning I couldn't contain it. I confessed to my managers what I had been through tears streaming down my face. They were very supportive and let me have some time to gather myself, it was a great relief to me to get it out in the open. My managers suggested ringing the Care First advice number which I think is specifically for NHS staff to seek advice on anything really, financial, housing, family, dealing with loss etc. I rang straight away and told my story, choking up throughout, the lady however wasn't what I expected, although she was sympathetic to my situation she denied me counselling for my loss. She declared my feelings were all grief related and there was nothing she could offer me. I put the phone down feeling disappointed and let down, I was obviously crying out for help and I was refused. She may have been right, maybe at that point it was grief flowing through my veins and not depression but I still don't understand how I couldn't be helped through my grief. If I had been offered help at that time maybe I wouldn't have spiralled into depression like I did.

I hadn't been myself for over 2 months and my feelings of isolation, grief and darkness suffocated me. I can only describe my depression as looking through a pin prick at the world, everything in my vision apart from that pin prick of life was completely black. I could physically feel the darkness envelop me, I was exhausted by it all, I was almost at rock bottom. My cycles were nonexistent I was still waiting for my first period after surgery 8weeks on, I had abandoned any sort of intimacy with my husband, sex terrified me. Sex lead to babies, babies lead to loss, loss lead to darkness. I was losing confidence and respect in myself, I stopped looking after myself as I should have done, I just could not function. I had nothing of Bean's and I desperately needed to hold him in some way, Rob got in touch with Warwick early pregnancy unit where we had our first scan and asked if they could post the picture over to us. They were happy to do so which was lovely and I was able to hold my little Bean and look at him again. 

I few weeks on and I was looking through all of the information we were given on miscarriage still very much in my dark world when I noticed a small pamphlet advertising Petals, a charity set up in Cambridgeshire specifically to help parents who have suffered miscarriage, still birth or infant death. I resolved to take a step in the right direction and emailed them explaining what had happened to us and asked if for an appointment. I was assigned to Jaqui, a wonderful lady to listened and helped me make sense of what had happened to me. As well as listening she also asked me certain questions to figure out what stage of grief I was at or whether I had slipped into depression. Although this was by no means a diagnostic tool she did find that I could be classed as clinically depressed by the events of the last few months and that I had experienced trauma. She gave me the strength to start thinking about a funeral for Bean, I had been wanting to do something to honour him but wasn't sure what or whether I could handle it. 

At the end of February we let off a balloon in Bean's memory with notes attached. It was absolutely heartbreaking, for me it was the equivalent for going into surgery all over again, we were letting him go. To me it almost felt cruel, I felt guilty for letting him go, I felt like a bad mum. But I know we had to do it, it gave us some closure and we saw Bean float towards the coast on his little balloon holding onto our notes of love.

March into April were very much the same as the start of the year, I continued to go down hill in terms of confidence, self worth and mental health. Everything around me was veiled in black, my soul had never returned to me I didn't even know who I was anymore really. My period arrived after over 70 days after surgery, I was both dreading and anxious for it to come, when it finally came the loss became so real all over again. As I'd been spiralling into depression I'd become pretty numb to everything around me and experienced constant pain (I know that sounds contradictory, I mean that the pain was so constant that I was just used to feeling that way and therefore felt numb), so after getting my period it became a spike of pain that I experienced. A stark reminder I was no longer pregnant, Bean was dead, I would never see his face or hear his cry. I tried to see the positive and I think I did a little bit, I was glad in some ways to finally have a period because 70 days was so abnormal and alarming but it only lasted two days and was extremely light. Having a period did not mean we were going to try again though, far from it, there was absolutely no way I was going to try to become pregnant again any time soon. We used condoms from that moment but again we were very naive, expecting to fall pregnant straight away was pure foolishness, not only were my cycles going to carry on being very irregular in the future but we simply weren't having sex enough to even have a chance of becoming pregnant. 

April rolled on and I was so sad all of the time I don't know how I carried on. I don't know how Rob coped with me, I just wasn't there, I wasn't in my right mind. I tried to meditate and was starting to use chakra crystals during meditation but I was so consumed it was near impossible for me to clear my mind. I couldn't sleep and when I did drop off I'd wake up throughout the night and early before my alarm went off for work. I became anxious particularly on Sunday evenings knowing that work would start again the next day. At work I saw things inappropriate for someone of my position, I saw containers with bloody fluid labelled products of conception. I saw small cardboard boxes containing foetuses, luckily I didn't look inside. Obviously I saw Bean in all of these situations and I was heartbroken at seeing so many, my morbid curiosity betrayed my grieving mind and I read the paperwork relating to the cardboard coffins - missed miscarriage of twins was one that sticks in my mind. I cried in the specimen room when I read that and scolded myself for reading it in the first place. I knew I would be upset by what I read but I did it anyway. I'm not sure why I did it, I think it was another way of punishing myself and hurting myself. 

Then it happened, I hit rock bottom. Towards the end of April 2016 I sat on the floor of the toilets at work my knees tightly curled up into my chest making myself as small as possible. I cried hard into my knees, everything around me was a dark blur through my tears, I clawed at my knees causing my fingers to turn white with the pressure, I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached. I threw my head back and smacked it onto the wall behind me and I moaned as a wept. I buried my face into my knees and choked out sobs while pulling at my hair. I wanted to scream my lungs out I wanted to run away as fast as I could and hide away at the same time. I've never felt so awful as I did in that moment I thought that would be my life from then on. When I had no more tears to give I tried to calm my breathing, it was ragged and the sobs kept catching the breath. I emailed Jacqui and told her where I was and what I was doing, she emailed back straight away and said to consider seeing a doctor. I was scared and relieved, relived to hear that I wasn't well from someone else and thinking that I wasn't unjustified. Scared because I'd never been through this before, what would happen now?

Thank you for reading, I hope this explains my feelings well for you to either understand or relate.

Stay strong,

Adele xxx

A Father's Perspective - Part Two

Hey everyone, I hope you are all ok and enjoying our little heatwave! This week has been pretty uneventful, I'm feeling a whole load better and think my antidepressants are starting to kick in which is nice. I'm hoping if my mood improves so will my cycles. We are fully in ttc mode, I just hope I ovulate this month and have a shorter cycle, for me that would be a great improvement.

Last week I posted part one of my husbands point of view to our loss of Bean, I hope it has been useful to read a fathers perspective. This is part two of that interview.

Rob was still going to work when we went through the two week wait to see if my body would start to miscarry naturally. He said he didn't do much work, he already hated his job but again trying to get into some sort of routine for him was a coping mechanism. He even went to his work Christmas party but obviously wasn't in the mood for celebrating anything. He did end up telling a couple of colleagues about what had happened. He learned that some of them had suffered the same fate (both male) but Rob didn't find this helpful knowing that others had gone through what he was going through.

We went back to our naivety again, how I never thought we would be part of that 1 in 4 statistic even though I had mentioned that miscarriages are common. Then Rob said "now it's the other way round" I asked him to explain what he meant. "Now we see so many people having kids, we don't know if it will be us. It feels more like it's going to fail than go well." That was really heartbreaking for me to hear, he's normally quite an optimistic guy but this is the first bit of doubt I've really heard him say in terms of us having a family. He added, "But you don't get where you wanna get to if you don't try. If you don't believe in the impossible, the impossible will never happen." My optimistic husband was back ☺️. 

I asked him about the next scan we had in Oxford after our two week wait. He said he wasn't expecting anything because he didn't know anything, he didn't know what was going on. I feel guilty that he felt that way, everything should have been explained to both of us until both of us knew what was going on, I understood so how come he didn't? Maybe it was another coping mechanism, maybe it was denial. He said he followed my lead throughout the whole process, I find that interesting thinking back because I was such a mess and all I was focussed on was Bean and the loss, admittedly I didn't consider Rob much hence why I didn't realise he was being ignored the whole time. I was unable to function to do everyday things so Rob had picked up the slack in that respect. Conversely, he was looking to me for everything to do with the loss, following my lead because he didn't understand, couldn't process the information or couldn't cope with it at that time. I think it makes us a strong couple and unknowing at the time we were taking burdens on and from each other, making us a pretty good team in the face of an awful situation. 

After that scan which showed I had not started to miscarry naturally Rob said he still didn't think about the baby, he just focussed on me the whole time. He said he tried to "keep" me, he couldn't think of the right word, I think that kind of means he tried to prevent me from going over the edge into depression. Which unfortunately he didn't prevent, I was absolutely devastated after the loss because I thought having a family was pretty easy. I think now we've had two losses I have coped better because I expect the worse now which is awful in itself. I think only people who have been through loss will understand that sentiment. 

Rob said that he had to sort out the last few things regarding our new home while we were losing Bean so again the pregnancy itself wasn't at the forefront of his mind. Even when the pregnancy was going well in those first 6 weeks he admitted he never thought of Bean and he only thought of how I was. I was pretty surprised by this comment but I understand his point of view, Bean, in his mind was still part of me so I'd like to think even though he was thinking only of how I was, he was really thinking of me and Bean as the same being. After he read my letter to Bean it changed for him, he said he thought about the loss a lot afterwards, it started going around his head. I asked at this point if he actually saw Bean's death as a loss, I was finding it hard to understand his view of the events, he said it was a loss but it was more of a massive change in me that he saw as a result and had to try and help. He said the scans only showed the beginnings of a baby inside me which was still me. Again his concern started and ended at how I was feeling and trying to take away my hurt and pain. After he read the letter was when he started seeing the baby and realising what we had lost. I think this relates back to what I was saying before with how the woman always has that connection with the baby from the very first positive pregnancy test, but the father can take a bit of time to find that connection. 

He described that once it dawned on him what we had lost the grief played on his mind for a couple of months afterwards then he forced himself to snap out of it whereas I couldn't. Then he tried to keep our lives afloat again. I couldn't comment on these months where Rob was grieving because I was in such a dark place myself I was in no position to even function for myself. He told a work colleague who happened to have gone through the same awful experience, and he said that the father has to be strong like a wall and hold his wife up. That's what Rob did, he completely became my rock and I was fully dependant on him I don't know what would have happened if he wasn't there. 

We went back to the night where I underwent medical management to start the miscarriage. Rob said he couldn't remember the night at all. At the start of this interview he said for me not to be mad if he couldn't remember every detail and I think he was a little nervous at this point in the story as for me if was a massive deal. But I honestly think he can't remember it because it was a coping mechanism, his mind has locked it away because it's too painful to comprehend. He focussed on moving all of our furniture and packing it up into a van ready for us moving into our new home.

After we moved Rob started his new job straight away which helped his mood and depression he had, although undiagnosed, from his old job in London. I had my third scan which showed the sac was retained in my uterus meaning the medical management hadn't worked fully. He said that news was annoying because it delayed my healing even longer which was frustrating. Surgery followed, he remembered being with me for a while and that I was in pieces. The nurses barely acknowledged him. While I was in surgery he had to wait in a little room with other men, I originally thought this room was full of the fathers of the sadly miscarried babies but he then told me there was a chatty old man in there that had been for a procedure himself so I guess he was in the general day surgery waiting room. He remembers reading a car magazine while he waited for me then coming to see me straight away after I had come round from the general anaesthetic. He can't remember going home or that night, only that I was very wounded emotionally. 

I asked him how life changed after the physical side of the miscarriage was finished. He said I was sad for a very long time, and that he felt he had lost me for a very long time. He felt like I wasn't me anymore and he found it hard to talk to me about anything as I was consumed by grief and depression. He felt like he didn't have many people to turn to and got confused as to who was around at that time. I think the confusion is understandable when you've been through trauma, the memory becomes a mishmash and it end up piecing together different times, I'm sure this kind of thing is Robs coping mechanism. 

I asked if there was anything he would have done differently, he said he would have suggested surgery straight away and not bothered with medical management. Then confidently he said apart from that there was nothing we could have done differently because we had done nothing wrong, he feels he did everything he could have and that's important. We have to think in this way otherwise we'd both me consumed with what ifs and guilt, we have no answers why we miscarried but we have to believe and know we didn't cause Beans death. I mentioned my need for antidepressants then and now and said that he had felt strong enough throughout both losses not to need medical intervention, he described himself as the rock from earlier, he said that rocks do not absorb anything and that was his mechanism. The waves of grief washed over him as they would with anyone but he managed not to become consumed by grief.

He said even though he felt he'd lost me I couldn't change how I felt or reacted to the news, it was right for me to react that way and I agree, when you go through grief whatever you feel in any particular moment is the right thing for you to feel at that time. You can't force yourself to move on or feel a certain way, you just have to ride the waves of grief and get through each day or even each hour without drowning. And if you drown, like I did, that's acceptable too, although it's awful it's where I had to go because  I went there. I don't know if that makes much sense. I'm just trying to say that grief throws you around a lot and because it is so personal, everyone's experience will obviously be different so there is no set route so don't feel guilty for whatever you feel throughout those times. If you are laughing don't feel guilty for it, if you are feeling angry seeing pregnancy announcements on social media don't feel guilty about it, you are entitled to feel angry and unfairly treated by the universe. Accept each emotion and feeling as they arise, and ride each one until the next comes along to sweep you away. 

Finally I asked Rob if he had anything to say to any other fathers out there who were going through loss. He said he didn't think he did particularly well and felt he wasn't in a position to give advice. He then proceeded to say it depends on the couple as to how they cope with loss. Essentially, he did the jobs that I couldn't do, he became the rock and functioned for the both of us. Whereas other women may be much stronger or able to cope with loss in a different way to how I did, which would allow the father to behave and react differently. He felt in our situation he didn't have a choice in how he reacted and he had to keep the both of us afloat. So in the end the way the father reacts can depend on how the mother reacts to the loss of a baby. If the mother is strong it allows the father to let his guard down if not he has to keep it up for her sake and look after her. I think that's a pretty balanced view and shows how much of a team we are and reflects again how he has been thinking of me the whole time we have been through this horrible time in our lives. 

I had one more question but it wasn't received so well. I wanted to see if Rob wanted to say anything to Bean but he said he wouldn't really want to talk about it, I pushed a little bit to get a response but didn't really get one. At this point the interview ended and he became very quiet, I was worried I had pushed too far. It was amazing that he'd even agreed to talk openly at all and I was concerned I had ruined it at the end. I gave him a big hug and felt he was upset, his breathing was a little ragged and he wept for Bean. I think that was the first time he had really talked fully about our first pregnancy and first loss, it had brought everything to the forefront that was locked away for well over a year. It was my turn to be the strong one, the rock even for a little while.

I'd like to say a very special thank you to Rob, it's so important that the fathers perspective is documented and I know how hard it is for him to talk about emotional stuff. I really appreciate it.

Thanks a lot for reading, stay strong,

Adele xxx

A Father's Perspective - Part One

Hi all! Hope you are doing alright and your week went well. We had our genetic testing consultation on Tuesday and it went pretty well. I was preparing myself for an argument as we were previously denied testing by my previous consultant and was told by a genetic counsellor that it would be unlikely to be offered after "only two losses". But I was pleasantly surprised by the whole experience. First off Rob was acknowledged straight away by the genetic consultant and felt included in the appointment, after all, our babies are half his genetic make up and that's what we wanted to discuss. The consultant was really lovely and asked us questions about both of our families and drew up our respective family trees, she came to the conclusion that it's unlikely that Passengers fate was genetically influenced although she did tell us there was a slightly higher prevalence of anencephaly in Scottish and Irish families. I come from Scottish and Irish blood and Rob has The Irish running through his veins, I found that really interesting and it was pretty much the only thing we were told in the appointment that I didn't know beforehand. After running through our family trees and discussing how we were coping with the two losses (I mentioned being prescribed sertraline and explained the struggles we have had after losing two) she offered us Karyotyping. Karyotyping looks at the chromosomes which are made up of our DNA, the structures are examined to see if each of the 23 chromosomes are the right size and the right number. There is a possibility that either one of our chromosomes has undergone what is called a "balanced translocation" where a chunk of DNA from one chromosome has been swapped with another chunk from another chromosome. In a parents case it doesn't show a disorder or phenotype but it is possible to pass it onto offspring which can cause duplications or deletions of genetic sequence ultimately causing miscarriage, genetic disorders or defects that are incompatible with life. If this is the case Bean and Passenger could be linked. Then again our results could (and hopefully will) come back completely normal meaning that Beans fate was awful bad luck and Passenger's was either again horrible luck or a result from environmental factors, namely lack in folic acid intake on my part (even though I took the daily amount recommended).  I did ask about getting biochemical/genetic testing for the MTHFR gene which metabolises folic acid into its natural form but she said that if I had something wrong with that gene I would be showing folic acid deficiencies. She explained the 5mg folic acid tablets I am now taking are used like a vitamin in which the body only takes what it needs and anything over that amount is expelled in the urine. We will find out our Karyotyping results in 8-9weeks which is standard turn around time for that kind of test, so I will keep you posted.

I mentioned last week that I wanted to get Rob's point of view on Bean and our miscarriage. It's been awkward to get him to talk but I finally cornered him while I was cutting his hair last night. I recorded the conversation which lasted about 40 minutes and I want to just summarise what his answers to my questions were rather than write out the whole conversation, reading a script wouldn't be very interesting!

I found it hard to think of specific questions, I really I wanted him to reel off his experience from start to finish just as I am doing with this blog. But that's just not how Rob works, he has admitted before that he doesn't show his feelings easily, like a lot of men I think. So him opening up was a little difficult. Even before I started my first question he immediately said  "please don't say 'how did you feel..' it's such a hard question." Like he was dreading opening up in that way but that's what this whole thing is about. Sharing his experience so I understand him fully, just like he is understanding me by reading these posts. 

I proceeded to ask how he felt in the beginning, I wanted to leave the questions as open as possible. He said in the beginning that he didn't really take any of it in, the information of the miscarriage, because he was instantly focussed on me and how I was and making sure I was ok. He said he feels horrible but he didn't think about Bean as much because he was so focussed on me and looking after me. He didn't take anything else into account. Similarly to how my world closed in around me his closed in around him but he described me as being at the end of the tunnel and everything else was closed in all around him, further explaining the focus he had on me and me only. It took me a little while to understand this analogy. I thought he was saying that I was far away from him but I'd gotten the wrong end of the stick. He then went  on to say that it wasn't until during the 2 week wait when he read my letters to Bean previously talked about in this blog that he really thought about Bean and the actual loss and realised what had happened. I guess this was shock taking over his mind really. His brain had chosen to focus on one thing and that happened to be me and he was unable to process any other information. I remember him being quite emotional when he read the letter to Bean. I think that was the first time I had seen him cry since we were given the devastating news. However, he didn't really know whether he felt emotional reading it because he was reading and feeling my emotion and grief for Bean rather than feeling his own grief himself. 

I asked him about his connection with Bean, as a mother I felt a connection as soon as we got a BFP, probably even beforehand as I knew we were pregnant before I took the test. But he felt he didn't really have that same sort of connection. I think that's fairly common in fathers, I think the idea of a pregnancy and a baby that is so tiny is rather abstract for a father, especially a first time father. He said even looking at the scans of Bean he didn't know what he was looking at, Bean never looked like a baby and he never moved or was ever going to. Whereas seeing Passenger on the screen moving around and looking like a baby gave him a much stronger connection. I don't think for any second that Bean is loved any less at all but Rob saw him as a "pre-person", he was a bundle of cells and to Rob Bean was still part of me, not a life in his own right. I don't agree with this view but I think that's the difference between the mother and the father, mothers feel a connection straight away which is very strong, mothers know their child longer than the father does. And seeing something on the screen, although amazing, still doesn't seem real. 

I asked him about the crash, he felt immense guilt after the crash because he thought he was the cause of Bean's death. One momentary lapse of concentration for a split second could have caused all of this. But we know the crash wasn't the cause, Bean had stopped growing three weeks before we had that bump in the car. He said even while we were waiting in A&E he was sorting out insurance and other things so again he was not thinking about Bean, and only thinking about me. I suggested him throwing himself into other things could have been a coping mechanism and he agreed, although all of the insurance stuff would have needed to be done anyway. It's not like he was throwing himself into pointless tasks and burying his head in the sand, he was holding the fort and doing all of the jobs that I couldn't do because I was stressed and worried and later after we were given the news I was incapable of functioning. 

He mentioned how naive he was back then while waiting in the early pregnancy unit for the first scan. He remembers the very sad couples in there but never thinking that we would be one of those couples. I completely shared his naivety, I never thought for a second we would have been the 1 in 4 that suffer miscarriage and after being told and going through it we both have said that we wouldn't be able to enjoy a pregnancy again, for at least the first 12 weeks if not longer now with what happened with Passenger. 

We talked about our visits to Oxford, being told officially that Bean had died. Rob said that he didn't know how he felt then which is totally understandable, there is no way to describe that feeling when you are told that news. He said he had wanted me to make the decision regarding our options as it was my body, and he would have gone with whatever I decided. Again his main focus was to keep me safe because I really broke down after that news. My world caved in and all Rob could do was to shield me as best he could. He said that no one talked to him in that hospital at all, no one even looked at him. I was appalled to hear this and also ashamed because I never noticed at the time. He said I was the centre of attention, not in a horrible way but that's the way it was, but the fact was that half of Rob had died too and the way he has been treated throughout the process of both of our losses has been terrible. Not that he has been treated badly but just completely ignored through the process. He told me about the nurses that didn't even look at him when we were both in appointments, and consultants that didn't acknowledge him. He felt empty and helpless but again he was holding me up, that's the recurring theme in his speech. He was holding me up, physically in a lot of cases but mentally all the time. That's the job he had taken upon himself, he didn't think about anything, he didn't have questions for the doctors that ignored him he just instantly became my rock when I collapsed. 

Much like in war film when a grenade goes off and the the background noise of the film becomes muted, that's how he saw and felt things when we were given the news. Again the focus was on me but everything else was muted and muffled so he didn't hear or think anything.  Completely understand this analogy, where he had muted sounds I had muted colours in my life. My world literally became black and grey when we went through the loss of Bean and subsequently suffered depression afterwards. My world became pale, that's where the name of this blog comes from.

This is taking way longer than I anticipated and creating a very long post so I will split it into two or three sections. I hope this is helpful for you all. It's been really hard for Rob to talk about our loss of Bean and talk about his emotions and for him to open up for 40 minutes has been amazing.

Stay strong,

Adele xxx

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.