The Probe

So, the testing has started!  I’m actually quite glad as it feels like we’re getting somewhere – we’re making positive steps in the right direction….hopefully.

When you’re told you will be going for fertility testing, you crumble a bit….what if there is a problem?  What if there isn’t a problem and we’re a medical mystery?  What if it’s something we can’t fix?  There are a lot of ‘What if’s’ on this journey but something I’ve learned is you cannot control the ‘what if’s’ or the ‘maybe’s’….you can’t control anything.  You just need to go with the flow and hope mother nature is kind to you and has given you a problem that can be fixed.  It’s wrong but you secretly hope they find something…but something that doesn’t mean it’s the end of your journey to becoming parents!

So it’s Friday, I’m due for an abdominal scan at St Mary’s.  I’m guzzling my 2 pints of water an hour before and hoping to god there are no delays.  But of course there are delays (remember, we’re not blessed with good luck…of course this isn’t straight forwards)!

“Due to staff sickness, our appointments are running behind schedule, sorry for any inconvenience”!  You have got to be kidding me, I’m fit to burst already.  Although I’ve drank my 2 pints, I’ve taken a bottle of water with me and sipping it throughout the wait – WHY???  I’m going to pop and I’m adding to it….this isn’t going to be pretty if I blow!

After a 30 minute delay (bearing in mind I’ve been holding my pee for over an hour), I’m called up for the scan.  I almost waddle to her, hoping I’m not going to let it all out on the waiting room floor.  The sonographer is a lovely lady, asks how I am, noting the waddle.  “Bursting” I tell her…”you’d best not press too hard”!  She points to a door. “Please can you go and have a wee, given your history I want to do an internal”!  Oh dear Lord, the probe!  I’ve never been more thankful for an internal scan…I could have kissed her!

The Probe!

 

As I’m undressing (although I’m now used to this, it still feels very bizarre chatting to a stranger whilst my arse is out), she asks me about the last scan, what they saw and whether I had a follow up.  Of course we go into details about the nightmare that took me to hospital with Sepsis.  She tells me she won’t talk to me much and she might look blank faced – I’m assured that this is her concentration face!

The probing starts and she is very gentle….a welcome change to the usual ‘digging for gold’ probers.  She asks me if anyone has ever commented on my uterus.  Oh this is another thing I’m well read on….in the numerous scans I’ve had. I’ve been told preiously I have an abnormality with my uterus – each time though it’s different!  I’ve had a bicornuate uterus, arcuate uterus, partial septum….everything but a normal* uterus!  Each differs and most can cause problems with getting pregnant, staying pregnant or carrying to full term.  She tells me mine is arcuate.  Thankfully this is the mildest of the abnormalities.

To explain it in bog standard, lay person terms, your uterus should be a pear shape….mine is a dinted pear (its the bruised looking one at the supermarket you wouldn’t normally take but don’t mind if its the last one on offer, it’s not as bad as it could be)!  She asks whether I have been told if I have a septum too (a septum is like a flap of skin growing down the centre of the uterus and dividing it in two).  She can’t see it but the surgeon from Oldham may well have done.  He didn’t say he had so she is confident that it isn’t too problematic.  I might need a 3D scan though just to make sure.  She tells me it could be causing the miscarriages but she doubts it, given the mildness of the abnormality.

She also explains that the lining of my left side of the uterus doesn’t look like it should.  It differs to the right side but she’s not too worried about it.  She tells me that this sometimes happens when a woman has had a D&C and it can normally correct itself.  PHEW!

We talk about the rest of the testing.  She specifically wants to know what the hospital have said about trying for a baby.  I tell her we’re on pause until the blood tests have been completed as if I get pregnant before them, I come of the waiting list and have to go back to the end of the queue if anything happens!  We can’t risk it again.  She tells me I’m ovulating (Scott detests this word….).  How bloody annoying!  When time isn’t on your side you want to try and catch every egg.  When you’re told you can’t it’s so frustrating.  You know it’s a missed opportunity!  ARGH!  Still, it’s for the best!  Once the tests are out of the way and we’re waiting for the results hopefully they’ll let us start again!

Just 2 more weeks until the blood tests….!  I can’t believe I’m willing those two weeks away!  For someone who hated needles, I’m not doing too bad!

 

*(if you want to do some further reading on abnormalities of the uterus, this page is really clear and explains them well http://www.babycentre.co.uk/a1038163/abnormalities-of-the-uterus-and-fertility )

Sepsis

Once the miscarriage was confirmed, me and the hubby decided we needed a break.  We needed to get away from everything and focus on us.  We needed to completely relax and just forget the trauma of the last couple of years.

We like to go away for our wedding anniversary, but because I was pregnant, Scott didn’t want to take the risk of flying.  I agreed.  I wanted to do the exact opposite of everything I’d done in the previous pregnancies, with a hope that everything worked out fine.

So we booked an 11 night complete relaxation, all inclusive break in the Dominican Republic.  Sun, sea and Pina Colada on tap would fix everything!!

A couple of weeks before we were due to go away, I started to feel like I was getting a bit of a cold.  I was snotty and felt tired and run down.  Of course it was to be expected.  But I also knew the risks of infection with miscarriages so I checked my temperature daily, just keeping an eye on things.  My temp was fine so I had no need to worry.

In the early hours of Wednesday morning, a week before we were due to go away, I woke up feeling like I had the flu – aching limbs, extremely cold, then hot, feeling very weak.  I felt terrible!  I lay, trying to get back to sleep for hours until the alarm went off.  I told Scott I felt like I had the flu and took my temperature.  At that point it was 37.4 degrees – just above the norm.  I got up to go downstairs and burst into tears…I was so weak.  But I couldn’t take more time off work.  I decided to ask Dr Google about my symptoms.  I typed in “miscarriage flu like symptoms” and all the posts told me to get to the docs immediately as there was a chance it was an infection.  I rang St Mary’s who reiterated that – they wanted me to get to them if I could but said I should definitely get to the doctors.

Having lost faith in my doctors I decided to head to the walk in centre.  Scott took me down and we were seen straight away by a very thorough doctor.  She took swabs, temperature, blood pressure, pulse, measured my breathing rate and took a pee sample.  The sample showed there was an infection so she told me I’d have to go to hospital for a scan to see whether there was something causing the infection.  I didn’t want to go to St Mary’s after my last experience of them so I opted for North Manchester.

Walking in to North Manchester I was greeted by the same nurse I have seen on several occasions.  Again I got a hug and she told me she hated seeing me….she really is a lovely woman, so caring and the type you would want as your nanna.  She took my stats and my pulse and temperature were high. They took blood to see what my HCG levels were, whether they were dropping.  I needed to wait and have a scan again to see what was going on.  At this point I was shivering with cold – how could I be so hot according to them!  I was given a blanket and waited an eternity for my scan.

When I went into the room for the scan, turns out a student was scanning me with one of the regular sonographers. It started as an external scan with puzzled faces. They kept concentrating on a certain area, with the senior sonographer directing the student. They could see something but I wasn’t sure what. I needed an internal before they could confirm what they had seen. I shook throughout the scan, still freezing.  They told me that there was something on the scan But didn’t tell me any more. I dressed and went back to the waiting area where the nurse ushered me to a bed to lie down. At this point I was shivering uncontrollably and had terrible back pain. I’d had a bad back throughout the pregnancy and especially after the miscarriage. I didn’t realise the bad back was part of this complication. I was asked by the nurse what I’d been told….I told them – I still didn’t know much at this point but she looked extremely concerned.  They put me in a bed furthest away from the nurses station. I discovered there was a reason for that….I could hear a doctor speaking to an oncologist and straight away I realised it was about me….cancer? Again?

When the doctor finally came to speak to me I was asked to explain everything in detail about the scans at St Marys. Exactly what had been seen and what they had said, whether we’d seen a heartbeat….everything. Apparently, in this day and age of technology, they couldn’t get my scans from St Marys to compare with what they were looking at. The doctor told me that a mass of about 2cm had been seen in my cervix. They were treating this as a possibly molar pregnancy….again!  I told her about this being mentioned previously. I told her it wasn’t possible as my pregnancy symptoms had gone but they were convinced it was molar. With molar pregnancy symptoms would still be strong, if done enough research on the subject to be confident in arguing the point!

At this point, I’d been checked over a number of times. My temperature was rising, yet I was shivering one minute, burning up the next. The nurse explained that I was septic and they needed to control my temperature.  I was put on IV paracetamol, antibiotics and fluid. Yet still it raised. At one point it was at 39.5 – dangerously high!

When my blood results came back, the doctor told me that my HCG had dropped from the levels at St Marys – 13000 when I was pregnant to 200 now. I knew this was good news but we still didn’t know what was wrong. I needed to be transferred by ambulance to Oldham Royal, stablised and prepped for an operation.  At this point I’d been on starvation all day.  To be honest, I was so poorly I didn’t even think about food!

By 7pm they realised that I wouldn’t be having the operation that night as I was too sick so I was fed and transferred to Oldham. The transfer was torture! I couldn’t have the blanket, I was still shivering and I was in agony with my back.

I got to Oldham and was taken to a bed where my stats were checked again. My temperature was still extremely high and my meds were topped up. I needed to wait until doctors rounds tomorrow to find out what was to happen.

The following day I was given breakfast before doctors rounds. When the doctor came round he took one look at me, said I looked better and should go home. He’d never seen me before…..the nurse pointed out my high temperature and he said I should go home and come back for a scan the following week. What about our relaxing holiday?? I told him about this and he agreed that I’d have surgery that day. They wanted to do a procedure known as a D&C.  Effectively they have a hoover that sucks out any “pregnancy product” left that is possibly causing the infection.

Throughout the day I was visited by various people – the surgeon, anaesthetist, pharmacist and nurses. My temperature was following typical patterns.  I was shivering, then burning up, my temperature would spike then they’d give me paracetamol and it would stabilise before starting the cycle again. By 3pm I was scheduled to go to theatre. They had an emergency so I was late down. Typical!

The surgery went well – I instantly felt better. My temperature seemed to stabilise and the pain in my back was gone!  Afterwards the surgeon came to chat to me. He explained that they didn’t get much out from the D&C so he’d scraped all round my cervix (gross I know). He thinks he’d got the infection out but he doesn’t know what the “mass” was that they saw on the scan. They’d send everything off and get it tested.

Thankfully that night I felt much better and slept a little better (apart from being woken by the little old lady in the bed next to me, dazed and confused going for a wee, pulling her catheter out, knocking over her drip and exposing her rear to the entire, now awake, ward).

The following morning the nurse came to see me. She instantly saw that I looked better and commented on this. She then went on to explain how sick I actually was….I’d been told I had an infection and it was likely septic but I wasn’t told it was actually sepsis. I’d heard about that, I’d heard it was deadly. God I was lucky. Thank the Lord for Dr Google!  She explained that if I’d left it any longer to get to hospital, it could have been a different story. 

Thankfully I’d stabilised enough to be discharged. I could go home. Hurrah. Three days in hospital was enough to make anyone ill! The doctor said I should be fine to swim on holiday, after a week, but I shouldn’t go in the sea…DOH (this turned out to be a blessing, the sea had hideous seaweed that kept touching me so I avoided….). I needed to wait for my antibiotics but I could go home. Scott came for me at 2pm. I’d been discharged at 11 so just waited for my canuler to be removed (I was on my fourth by now as I kept blocking them) and my meds. During my wait a doctor came and told me I’d need Anti-D again. I’d asked the surgeon when he’d come to see me whether I needed this, he said no. But now I had to wait for it! I just wanted my tea. 5 hours after Scott had arrived to collect me, I’d finally got my injection (apparently they need to request this from the transplant team). Hurrah! I asked for my meds, the nurse went to check. The doctor had forgotten to do my prescrition…WTF!!! Grrrrr! 

Finally, another 2 hours later, I’m home to my kitties with a hearty bowl of stew (mmmmmm). 

A week later we’re relaxing with this view. 

And now we start the journey of testing, to see if there is a reason we keep losing our babies!! 

Three

The NHS like to do things by the book.  If you have a miscarriage no-one will investigate until you have had three.  If you don’t get pregnant they won’t investigate until you’ve been trying for 12 months.  We fall somewhere in the middle.  After the second miscarriage we’d been on our journey for over 12 months.  But no-one was interested.  I’d go to see my GP and ask for help.  I told her of the emotional trauma it was causing us but I was told the same thing, stop trying so hard and let it happen naturally.  Let me tell you that once you know when you are ovulating, there is no way you can ignore it, you know it’s happening, you can’t just ignore it and pretend you don’t know and “accidentally” get pregnant!  I went back and forth for months.  They didn’t seem interested that time wasn’t on my side.  Thankfully my colleague intervened.  He managed to get the name of a wonderful consultant who said she would see us.  I just needed to get a referral from my GP….easier said than done!

The usual doctor wasn’t interested so I requested an appointment with another doctor.  I broke my heart to him and he told me he wanted to help.  I explained that I’d almost wished I’d never got pregnant as they would have started investigations by now.  He said he was treating me as though I hadn’t and agreed to get some blood tests done and then complete the referral, because surely, over 12 months in, we needed some answers!

Most of the bloods came back OK (secretly you want one of the “easy to fix” ones to come back abnormal so perhaps it will explain why you’ve had the miscarriages).  One particular test needed to be spun and sent to the lab in a certain time period.  Three times I had to have that test before I got the results!  When I did get them, this was the one that could potentially cause some issues down the line.  They tested something called my AMH levels which indicate your egg reserves.  Unfortunately mine came back low for my age.  Although this wouldn’t stop me having children, it would put me on a countdown – counting down faster than I wanted it to.  I didn’t know whether this was causing the miscarriages, I was still ovulating but wasn’t sure how long for.

So I managed to get a referral to St Mary’s for June.  They agreed that I would have some tests on the first day of my period and return to discuss the results in September.  We were at Glasto for that first day (not pleasant with long drop loos….actually, completely horrendous) so we agreed I’d go back in July.  As we were leaving she said “You’ll be pregnant next month, you watch”.

And I was!

I’d booked the monday off work, Scott had gone to the gym early and I was getting up to get the house ready for the estate agent visit to take photo’s.  I went to the loo, pee’d on a stick (remember, it’s an addiction) and went about my chores, not thinking anything about the test.  When I remembered, I went to check and holy-crapola there were 2 strong positive lines!  My period wasn’t even late yet so I didn’t expect it.  I rang Scott and we chatted about how his gym session was and I told him he might want to pop home as I was pregnant.  We both couldn’t believe it!

From finding out I was pregnant I decided that I wasn’t going to think about it or believe it.  We told our parents and kept the news to ourselves.  We really thought this would be our time now.  Good luck comes in 3’s.  I had a new job, we were selling the house and now the baby, it had to work out….surely.  I’m doing everything they tell me to do – taking double dose folic acid, taking aspirin (just in case it’s clotty blood blocking the placenta early on and starving the baby of oxygen) and taking vitamin D – I’m rattling I’m taking that much.
One Wednesday evening, at about 6 weeks pregnant, I spotted brown….again (story of my life).  I decided there and then that I wasn’t going to go in for a scan, I was going to wait it out and see what happens.  With this pregnancy I’d also decided I wasn’t going to make my midwife appointment until closer to the 12 weeks – I didn’t want to waste people’s time.  So I’m sat at home, relaxing, checking Facebook (yep, you know me…addicted to the bloody thing), when I spot a post from Tommy’s talking about a trial for women who had had recurrent miscarriages and women who spot during pregnancy.  They are offering a  trial where you are either given progesterone (low progesterone may be a cause of miscarriages, that’s what they are trying to work out) or a placebo to have up to 16 weeks of pregnancy.  The trial is double blind so it meant neither myself or the doctor would know whether I have the drug or not.  There is no risk to myself or the baby if I take part so I email them to sign up.  I get a call the next day telling me I need a scan straight away if I’m to sign up so off I trot to St Mary’s.  They send me into the usual ultrasound area with all the pregnant women.  This time I’m not really feeling traumatised by the spotting, part of me thinks this is just me going through the motions.

I have my first scan on the Friday and they can see a sac and a yolk.  At this point they should be able to see a foetal pole but I try not to worry – lots of women have scans and don’t see what they expect to then the baby catches up.  After the scan I’m met by a lovely research nurse who takes me up to the Emergency Gynae Unit and we meet a doctor to go through the trial protocol and get my tablets.  Little did I know that these were pessaries to be inserted internally (front or back ladies….I mean, who on earth would chose back).  I have to insert 2, twice a day until I’m 16 weeks.  I collect nearly 300 tablets off the nurse, not knowing whether I have the good stuff or the fake!

I start using the meds straight away and by the following day I have terrible symptoms….sickness, tiredness, headache!  I’m convinced I have the drug but equally I’m glad I have the pregnancy symptoms.  It gives me a little hope that our baby is growing nicely!  I still very much feel pregnant!

2 weeks later I go back for another scan.  At that point I’m still spotting but nothing too bad.  I’m prodded and probed and the sonographer asks me that question which instantly I know means something isn’t right – “how far gone should you be”.  Almost 8 weeks at this point.  She explains that now have a larger sac and a foetal pole measuring 5mm but at this point there should be more – there should be a heartbeat and it should be bigger.  They ask me to come back for a repeat scan on the Monday but I refuse and tell them I’d rather wait a week.  I want to give my bean a chance to grow before any decisions are made.  During these early stages the baby should grow about a millimetre a day so giving it 7 days would give it a certain chance to get it’s little arse in gear.

By the time I go back for the next scan I’m almost 9 weeks pregnant.  I’ve had slight bleeding but still have symptoms (quite horrendous at times) so I’m positive it will be good news.  The sonographer tells me that she will remain quiet throughout the scan but wants me to confirm how far gone I am. “9 weeks tomorrow”. So she gets out her wand and starts the scan.  As usual there is a lot of prodding and poking but complete silence.  Neither me nor Scott can see the screen, it’s all done very discretely.  After a few minutes, she says “I’m sorry, there is no growth, it looks like you’re miscarrying”.  WHAT?  AGAIN? It doesn’t feel right – I still feel pregnant, I’m not bleeding.  How can this be.  She explains that the baby hasn’t grown at all and is still measuring 5mm.  I’m completely in shock, I dress in silence and sob!

I’m taken to a room to wait for the doctor.  After an eternity a nurse comes in with some leaflets to explain my options.  I know the score and tell her I’m doing it naturally.  She doesn’t explain much about what they have seen.  I ask what happens now, after all I’m in the “fortunate” position of having 3 miscarriages so we can get help.  She doesn’t seem aware of what we’ve been through in the past and goes to speak to a colleague.  When she returns I’m told that a referral will be sent to the Recurrent Miscarriage Unit and I will receive an appointment in about 8 weeks.  I ask whether I should have the surgical removal of the foetus for testing and she tells me that it’s not necessary if I don’t want to.  She tells me that they could test but might not find out what is causing the problem.  Again I ask whether it is helpful and she tells me (and I swear I’m not making this up) “if you want to do it naturally and have testing, perhaps you can catch the foetus and bring it in”.  Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not one of those icky people that is traumatised by blood but this is just ridiculous!  How on earth can they expect that I would want to catch the foetus, put it in a lunch box and drive it down to them?  We’re horrified.  Numbly we leave the room and head home to let nature take it’s course.

I decide to go in work the Tuesday after.  I tell my new boss what is happening (luckily she knows the history and is fab about it all) and tell the staff I look after I’ll be off at some point.  What good is it sitting at home and thinking about it all?  Work will take my mind off it and get me through the day! I just want things to be normal!  I don’t cry as much as I have previously and I feel confident I’m dealing with it well.

The heavy bleeding and pain starts the week after.  It’s nothing I can’t handle so I take the time off work and spend days lay on the sofa.  I can’t make anything this time (we’re moving so I can’t make pretty curtains for our house yet) so I catch up on back to back Cold Feet (forgetting about Jenny’s miscarriage on the programme – cue sobbing mess).  We cancel all plans and just ride it out.  At the weekend it’s Derby Day.  I don’t want to leave the house so my lovely (City fan..unfortunately) in-laws come visit (and to hijack our Sky TV).  I wake up in the morning in agony – not like anything I felt with previous miscarriages.  There’s an unusual pressure in my abdomen and its getting worse.  Scott trots off to the supermarket to get me some pain relief (buscopan – amazing) and a hot water bottle.  The pain and sudden need for the loo continues for about 4 hours.  I pass large clots during that time, knowing the baby is gone.  Once the clots seem to have gone, the pain dies down and I feel human enough to face people. That’s it, all over in those few hours.

Routinely I have a scan booked for the following week at St Mary’s.  They need to check everything has passed so there is no risk of infection.  I’m still bleeding so I’m aware it might not all have passed yet.  The sonographer tells me that everything looks normal apart from a small bit of lining working its way out of my cervix.  But, given I’m still bleeding at this point, it should all work out.  We all agree that I will be fine and I’m sent home to allow nature to finish taking it’s course with strict instructions that if there is pain and heavy bleeding I’m to go back.

But of course, this is me and nothing about our journey is straight forwards….!

 

Two

After the first miscarriage I became afraid of a lot.  I wouldn’t drink as I had an irrational fear of the grief. I didn’t want to socialise because I didn’t feel like me.  I hated my body and binged on sugary food, almost punishing myself for not being able to stay pregnant (I still can’t bloody stop eating sugar, bleedin food of the devil!).  After a miscarriage you need to do pregnancy tests.  Boy do I know how to do pregnancy tests.  Once you start trying you pee on a stick at every available opportunity, wishing for the two lines.  Only this time you are wishing for just the one, just the control line to tell you that it’s negative and there are to be no further complications.  I’ve never prayed for a negative pregnancy test…..you do on this occasion!

It took 4 months for me to fall pregnant for the second time. The doctors advise you not to try too soon. They don’t explain why but my instincts say that it is because emotionally trying again is hard. You feel like you’re cheating on your deceased baby, you worry about whether you are mentally ready to go through it again. And you’re still grieving!  But you have to try again. If you want the dream of a baby, you need to.  And time certainly isn’t on our side, I can hear that tick tick of my body clock, reminding me that I’m knocking on a bit (as if the wrinkles and silver flecks of hair weren’t enough)!

So 4 months later, once again we get those two pink lines and initially we are thrilled. Thrilled but completely terrified it could happen again. But lightening doesn’t strike twice, surely?!  The odds are in our favour – only 2% of women have 2 miscarriages in a row! My due date is 29th April – exactly 12 months to the day since our first miscarriage. It’s a sign, it’ll all be OK! Hopefully!

The week after we find out, we are off to Croatia for our first wedding anniversary. Naturally I’m apprehensive but the midwife thinks it would be good for us. So long as I’m careful what I eat, don’t drink (mocktails really aren’t that bad guys…No-Jito’s are quite impressive) don’t get too hot and look after myself, I’d be fine. Vitamin D would be good for the baby!  A few days into the holiday I start spotting brown again. Of course I’m terrified but I know the score and I know my body. There is no way I’m going to hospital abroad, I’ll just deal with it!  Thankfully it doesn’t get any worse. At this point I’m 6 weeks pregnant, the same as when it all started last time.

We return from holiday and I’m still worried. We go off to the hospital for a scan, fearing the worse. As we walk in a nurse recognises me and gives me a big hug. I’m told  to drink lots ready for the scan. When I go in, the sonographer attempts to scan me but you can see she’s having trouble. “Go for a wee but not a full one, half of one please. Your bladder is too full”. I’m sure she must have been joking. Half a wee?! That’s not possible! Anyway, off I toddle for half (!?) a wee and go back for my scan. Again she’s struggling to see anything so I have to have another internal scan. It seems like she spends an eternity doing the scan. Scott can see the screen with the black blob and the sonographer looks worried again. After a while she turns the screen to me. I fully expect bad news but she points out our little baby. It’s tiny, you can hardly see it but then she tells me to hold my breath so we can see more. “There is your baby’s heartbeat”! I sobbed. Delighted. Our bean was OK. It was going to be fine.

I start to relax a bit (although I’m still on knicker watch every time I go to the loo) and believe it will all work out this time. At just over 7 weeks pregnant I’m interviewing at work. Thankfully one of the candidates hasn’t turned up so I get the chance for a wee break (anyone who has had kids will tell you that you pee for Britain those first few weeks). I go to the loo and gush red blood. Red blood isn’t good. I’m terrified it’s happening all over again and manage to leave work to go to the GAU. I’m seen by a doctor who checks my cervix and says it all looks OK.  I explain my history and ask for a scan but he tells me that it’s not necessary – if I’m having a miscarriage a scan won’t help me.  I’m sent home to rest, completely appalled by his attitude, still with no idea what will happen and whether our baby is OK.

By almost 9 weeks pregnant I’m bleeding again and back to the GAU. I insist on a scan this time, deep down I know it won’t be good news. The sonographer is scanning me and asks what we saw on the scan last time. I explain that we saw a sac, baby and heartbeat. She’s confused. She spins the screen round and shows me clearly that there are 2 empty sacs. I’m told that if this was the first scan they would think it was a twin pregnancy but because it’s not it looks like I’m going to miscarry again but I have to go back in 10 days for it to be confirmed (NHS protocol apparently). By that point I’ll be 10 weeks pregnant so surely you’d see something. I’m in complete shock. Why isn’t it straight forwards? I’m signed off work and told to rest up!

10 days later I return for the scan. We fully expect to receive the news that the pregnancy has once again ended in miscarriage  we are prepared for it. What we weren’t prepared for is the news that we now have 3 pregnancy sacs and this is now being treated as a new triplet pregnancy of around 5 weeks. I explain that it’s not possible (the poor hubby was on a sex ban as soon as we found out) but they can’t treat it as a miscarriage unless they are 100% sure.  As much as I protest, I’m sent home with high dose folic acid and told to rest and return in 2 weeks by that point the ‘babies’ should be visible.

I’m rarely off work sick, so being off sick for a few weeks has registered with a few people. I check my emails one night and have an email from one of the consultants at work, giving me his mobile number and asking me to contact him as he’s worried about me.  I work with Cancer consultants so you don’t ever wish to call on them for anything but what harm can it do. I contact him and explain what we’ve been going through.  He’s speechless at the way we’ve been treated and the fact we’ve had no real answers about what is happening.  Thankfully he knows people within the gynae world so he arranges for a specialist to come and see us at our next appointment to try and give us some answers.

Over the next week I start bleeding, heavily. I know exactly what my body is doing now. There is pain but absolutely nothing like last time.  It’s bearable this time.  So much so that I use my time wisely and make a lovely new door curtain and lay a new floor in the hall.  No point in dwelling on it, being productive makes me feel like I’m in charge of the whole thing! After a week, the bleeding stops.  I’ve passed clots so I know it’s all over.  I’ve accepted it’s over.

We return to the hospital for a final scan, knowing that our baby (or babies) won’t be there any more.  At this point I should be 12 weeks pregnant and going for my first scan, not my fourth.  I’m taken into the room for an internal scan.  I explain that I’ve miscarried and I know there is nothing there.  The sonographer confirms this and tells me I’ve passed everything. Sadly I’m relieved that the ordeal is over but I can’t help but cry for our baby. Again it’s not our time!  After our appointment the specialist comes to see me. He wants to answer my questions and help me understand what is happening.  He explains that the 3 “sacs” were likely areas of bleeding and not actual sacs, indicating that the miscarriage was in full flow.  I ask him what happens next and I’m told that we should carry on trying and all should be OK when I get pregnant again, after all only 1% go on to have a third miscarriage.

Sadly I’m in that 1%.

 

One

29th April 2015

3rd October 2015

8th September 2016

I’ll never forget these dates – for all the wrong reasons.  These were the dates our dreams of starting a family were crushed!  As much as we remember the good times, bad memories tend to have a way of engraining themselves in your memory and never leaving!

It took 8 months for me to fall pregnant the first time.  I remember seeing those two pink lines and thinking, that’s it, we’ve done it, we can relax now!  How wrong we were!  I worked out my dates and I was due 10th December.  Knowing first pregnancies can be overdue I calculated that there was a strong possibility this could be a Christmas baby, something I hated being one myself but I’d deal with that.  The baby would get used to it and we could moan about it together!

We were so happy about the pregnancy that we instantly told our family.  It was Easter and the hubby had bought me a huge Easter egg for me and ‘Pip’.  We’d told family the exciting news on Easter Sunday and were thrilled with all the chat about our plans.  We were on cloud 9.  That was about to change though….

6 weeks into the pregnancy we’d gone to Liverpool for a gig. Co-incidentally, it was right next to the Liverpool Women’s hospital.  I’d gone to the loo and noticed some brown spots.  Instantly, you know that’s not right.  Dr Google told me that although this wasn’t normal, it might be fine.  The next day I rang the midwife and explained.  She told me the stock line I was to get used to hearing over the next 18 months – “If you start bleeding red blood or you have pain, get to A&E”.  The rest of the week it didn’t get worse so I didn’t panic (too much).

Date night’s with the hubby were now lovely food and no drinking for me, so after another lovely meal out, we’d drove back home early and settled for a film.  Halfway through I thought I’d wee’d myself (I’m getting on a bit so it’s to be expected) and popped to the loo.  Turns out I was wrong, that’s when I’d started bleeding.  Frantically we drove to A&E, knowing something wasn’t right.  I was examined and told my cervix was closed and everything looked fine but to go back Monday for a scan and make sure i took it easy over the weekend.  That was the longest weekend of my life.  I couldn’t focus or do anything.  All I could think about was our baby.

On Monday we arrived for the scan at the Maternity unit.  Whoever thought that someone going through this should have a scan where women are going through normal pregnancies and are beaming at their happy pictures needs shooting.  As we went in the room, bladder full, the lady performed an abdominal scan.  Instantly I could see the worry and confusion in her eyes (a look I was to become accustomed to).  “How many weeks are you supposed to be”  she asked.  At that point I was 7 weeks pregnant.  I then experienced what was to be the first of many internal scans.  I tried to remain positive – we both did – but there was a blank look on the sonographers face and what looked like a mis-shaped black hole on the screen.  I was told “I’m sorry but I can’t see anything in the sac, it looks like you are going to miscarry”.  Nothing prepares you for those words.  Instantly you go into shock and there is a part of you that doesn’t want to believe what they’ve said.  I’m sent up to the Gynae Assessment Unit with the scan result to have my bloods taken and speak to a doctor.  The doctor tells me at my point in pregnancy they should see a heartbeat but because they can’t I need to go back for another scan 2 days later.  They also explain that my blood results show my hormone level, HCG, is a 57,000.  For a single pregnancy this is extremely high and it’s at that point I learn about another frightening complication with pregnancy, Molar Pregnancy.  I’m handed a leaflet and there is talk of chemotherapy if it is Molar.  What?  I went in pregnant and now I’m being told that I “might” need chemo as the pregnancy I thought was a little bouncing foetus “might” be a cluster of cells that form a cancerous tumour!  How on earth can that be?

I don’t think I’ve ever felt as low as I did that day.  I spent hours at home researching a misdiagnosed miscarriage, looking for stories of hope.  I found them, of course I did.  As the hubby says, you will always find what you want to find on the internet and you’ll dismiss everything else.

2 days later and the scan was a completely different story.  Once again I was sent to the maternity unit to have an internal scan.  The sonographer did a lot of digging around (I’m sure she could see what I’d had for breakfast she was digging that far).  She seemed puzzled and asked about the previous scan.  We explained what was seen and expected the worst.  However, our baby had a heart beat. A feint one, but still a heartbeat. We saw it flickering on the screen, a little miracle.  This meant that it was a baby, no more talk of molar pregnancy and something positive to take forwards.  We met the doctor on the GAU again and they explained that the heartbeat should be stronger but they were happier with what was seen.  I was sent away and told to return the following week for a repeat scan where they would expect to see much more.

By the time of the next scan,  felt a little more content that everything was going to be OK.  I’d had no bleeding, no sign that things were wrong.  I’d had a bit of back ache but nothing I was concerned with.  The scan this time was in the GAU.  Much better.  It can’t be nice for pregnant women waiting for a routine scan to be faced with someone sobbing over their lost child.  Equally, you’ve just been told you are going to miscarry, why on earth would you want to sit in a waiting room of pregnant women.  Anyway, as usual, the sonographer lube’d up her wand and started probing.  Instantly, I saw that sad look in her eyes.  She explained that she would have to call up her colleague who did the last scan to get her opinion.  I was frantic.  What was happening.  It seemed to take forever for her colleague to come up to the room (meanwhile I’m lay there legs akimbo) to review the scan.  They looked over the previous scan, whispering, and then came to examine me.  I heard the words that have haunted me since “I’m sorry Kerry, you’re going to miscarry”.  They explained that the sac was now an irregular shape, indicating that it was collapsing and they could no longer see a heartbeat or our baby.  That was it, it was over.  Our baby had died shortly after its heart had started beating.  This isn’t what’s supposed to happen.  This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.  We were give our options.  There’s 3: natural miscarriage, medically managed or surgical intervention.  Where was option 4?  where was the option to carry on with a normal pregnancy and take my baby home after 9 months?   I’d decided to go home and let nature take its course.  However, after much research on the internet I came across a post from a woman saying she’d originally wanted to have a natural miscarriage but she realised she was holding on to something that wasn’t there. At that point I realised I was doing the same.  I’d gone through enough.  We made the decision to take “medically managed” card.

The next day I went to the hospital for the procedure.  I was taken to a room where 4 pessaries were administered.  I had to wait an hour to make sure that I was OK.  My body decided to go into shock and I spent the whole hour shaking uncontrollably.  Mentally and physically, this was going to torture me.  I was given an injection of Anti D before I left.  Being rhesus negative I needed this with having medical intervention, apparently it stops any further complications.  I just wanted to go home and forget about it all.  I was sent away with a sick note and prescription for pain relieve.  Apparently I’d bleed and it would be like a painful period.  Oh how they lied.

By 7pm I was doubled over in absolute agony that seemed to come in waves.  I’d be crippled in pain, sat on the loo sobbing one minute, the next I’d be in bed exhausted.  It was terrifying.  My wonderful hubby lit a relaxing lavender candle, got me a water bottle and put on some soothing music.  I can’t tell you what music he’d put on as all I could hear was the internal screams in my head! I spent 12 hours like this, with Scott considering calling an ambulance at one point because I was in so much pain and begging him to help me.  Pain killers didn’t help either because the pain made me throw them up!  Either I was on the loo bleeding in complete agony or in agony in bed.  My body appeared to have also gone into shock again as I couldn’t get warm, despite the PJs, dressing gown, duvet and 4 blankets!  By 6am the pain seemed to subside and I gave in to exhaustion.  What they didn’t tell me at the hospital was that the tablets they give you are what they use to induce labour.  My body was in labour and I wasn’t going to get the squidgy pink prize at the end.  2 days after the process I had this strange feeling down below and went to the loo.  I passed my sack and the baby on the Sunday.  I didn’t think I’d want to see it but I did, I got to say goodbye to my little bean.

 I spent most of the next week either lay on the couch mourning our loss whilst watching idiots arguing over paternity tests on Jezza Kyle or trying to keep busy (the result of one particularly productive bout of staying busy was a set of 4 new kitchen chair covers I made with my newly acquired sewing machine – every cloud eh).

So I’d been told about the pain, bleeding and the grief but no-one told me about the anxiety attacks I would have.  I didn’t want to see people, I didn’t want to socialise and the following months I became anxious at seeing people for the first time since it had happened.  I didn’t know how I’d react around people and I didn’t know how they’d react.  I just didn’t want to know people.  I went back to work a fortnight after it happened and cried the entire journey to work.  We were moving offices that day so I could keep myself busy but walking in the office made me a bag of nerves.  We all hugged and cried.  It was all we could do.  Life was just crap!

But no-one tells you about all this because no-one talks about it….

 

#waveoflight

Candle lit for the Babies B in support of Baby Loss Awareness Week ❤️

Taboo

Let me get one thing out there….I’m not brave – far from it! My husband tells me I’m like Tiny Tears! I cry a lot, sad things, cute animals, other people’s misfortune, someone turning their chair on The Voice. I cry a lot! So no, I’m not brave.
It’s taken a lot of recent campaigns in the press about miscarriages to get me to fully open up about what we’ve been through. Yes, my close friends and family know the score (and have been awesome throughout everything) but fertility and people’s struggles with infertility are a taboo subject, not often talked about. Miscarriages are not something people discuss. You’re not told about them when you learn about how babies are made at school, in fact, I’m not even sure they were referenced in my whole chapter on pregnancy when I was studying Life Sciences with the Open University (I’ve got half a degree you know, not worth much but cost me a fortune!). There are plenty of sites out there where miscarriages are openly discussed with strangers but the sad reality is, no-one wants to talk about them to their nearest and dearest.
Those who know me know I like to talk – a lot! I’ve talked about this until the cows come home – the ins and outs of what happens with appointments, fears, pain and the mental torture of the pregnant women you see on a daily basis, nothing is missed out! Yet still people don’t broach the subject, there is a fear that the woman might get upset, she might not want to discuss it. But what if she does? What if she is desperate to talk but doesn’t want to make the first step. What if she’s worried that she’s boring you with her problems? Don’t get me wrong, there are times when I don’t want to discuss what we’ve been through, times when I just want to live a normal life, not tainted by this issue hanging over us. But the issue is here, the black cloud doesn’t move. And with every friend, colleague, family member who announces their pregnancy, their relatively straight forward journey, talking is what helps!
Why can’t our journey have been straight forwards? Why do we have to go through this? The reality is it sucks – massively! I saw a great quote the other day as part of Tommy’s Baby Loss Awareness week. “Parenthood is a privilege that should not be off limits to 1 in 4 couples”. Yet it is. At first you’re a statistic – it affects 1 in 4 pregnancies unfortunately but, after the first, it probably won’t happen again according to the professionals. When it happens the second time you’re deemed unlucky but the odds are you won’t suffer another loss. But then you do, for the third time, and it’s only then that the professionals finally listen to you and believe you when you tell them something isn’t right! And that’s when the testing, hospital visits and consultant meetings start.

 

My blog will allow you to all come along on the journey with us – to see exactly what is involved in fertility testing and recurrent miscarriages. I don’t plan on it being a depressing read but I warn you now, there will probably be tears along the way (probably just mine)!

 

In my next post I’ll bring you up to date with the journey so far. I just need to pluck up the courage to document it all….it’s been a tough 2 years but writing it all down might just help with the healing process!

 

Thank you for reading guys!  Feel free to follow my blog.  I’ll post updates to my facebook page too! 🙂