It was a funny old day yesterday. It started out as quite a normal day. Fighting over who got the last of the Crunchy Nut Cornflakes, attempting to coax the four year old into wearing something with her Peppa Pig wellies (as in actual clothes), dragging my brood to Waitrose as the cupboards were bare (see Crunchy Nut Cornflake-gate above) but somehow I don’t think that life will ever quite be the same for me.
You see, nothing has changed. Except it will never quite be the same again.
I’m now sounding terribly dramatic, I know. And also slightly cryptic. And I have a feeling that this may be a rambling one so please bear with me. I have always seen my blog as my space. Warts and all. So I make no apology for writing this.
You see, I knew that something was wrong. If I’m being completely honest, I had known for some days but I was ignoring it in the hope that it might just go away. Not the best way to deal with problems, I know. Anyway, my Other Half was working from home yesterday so I took that chance to go and see a doctor. I hoped that I wasn’t wasting his time but his manner suggested otherwise.
I think I might have had an early miscarriage.
He huffed and typed into his computer as I fumbled over dates and explained my symptoms then he went on to churn out phrases like ‘maybe it was for the best’ ‘nature is just taking its course’ ‘more than one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage’ ‘the bleed means that there is no pregnancy to test for’ ‘you would have been so early on that there wouldn’t even be anything there to scan’ ‘just a mass of cells’ ‘nothing that can be done’
I stopped hearing him after a while. Tears streamed down my face. I didn’t expect to be so upset. I hadn’t even realised that I was pregnant. Now I was facing the reality of losing my baby. It was all very strange.
I feel like a fraud for even being upset. How can I be upset about losing a baby that I didn’t even know that I was having? How can I suddenly feel so numb? So empty? When I didn’t even know that I was pregnant? We weren’t even trying for a baby. I don’t feel like I have the right to be upset.
Everything is the same as it was, except it doesn’t feel like it quite now. I’m torn between being completely heartbroken and feeling that I don’t have the right to be. How can I be heartbroken about a baby that I didn’t actually realise I was having until it was too late? Up until now, I have never truly known just how fragile life is. I thought I did. But I really didn’t.
All around me, life is carrying on. The reality is that I have to carry on as normal. But that doesn’t mean that I feel like it will ever be quite the same again. I find it hard to believe that anything so heartbreaking can be for the best, just natures way and all the other stock phrases that the doctor churned out. I feel like he saw me as just one of those awful statistics. A waste of his precious time. That I should just brush myself down and carry on as normal. There is nothing that he can do for me. But I don’t think it is quite that easy. Not for me at least.
Part of me wants to grab the gorgeous children that I do have and never ever let them go. I have never felt so blessed to have them. Another part of me wants to run away from the world and curl up into a ball somewhere. I just need the world to stop. Just for a little while. But the reality is of course that it can’t.