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February 8th 2001
It is a year ago today that I had my forth miscarriage. I
think that the main thing bothering me is that no one else
has remembered. But then, why should they? Unfortunately miscarriages
are still quite an undesirable subject to broach with some
people, maybe because to them it was an insignificant occurrence
or maybe because they too have experienced it and don't want
to stir up painful memories. Whatever the reason, this was
my BABY, my little boy or girl who should now be five months
old and in my arms, who should have been with me this morning
as I walked around Tesco's, where people could look at me
and see that I'm a mother. Instead, when people see my partner
and I walking hand in hand and they ask us if we have any
children, I say no. I really want to say yes and tell them
about everything that I've been through, but I guess I'm protecting
them from an uncomfortable situation, or even myself from
the potential verbal bullets that they may fire back at me
like, "There was probably something wrong with it", "Are you
sure that you didn't overdo it?", or my all time favourite,
"It's probably for the best".
I've had four miscarriages and they've all been quite different.
My first pregnancy started in June 1998. At the time I divided
my time between London and Grimsby, working in London during
the week and driving up to Grimsby at the weekends to see
my partner. I had already handed my notice in at work and
would be moving to Grimsby for good in mid July. But before
I did that I had a week in Corfu and two leaving do's to attend.
The fact that when I finally arrived here my period was late
didn't really register anything with me, I just got on with
settling down in my new home.
Two weeks after I moved here it occurred to me that I might
as well get a pregnancy test from the chemist although I wasn't
experiencing any symptoms of what I imagined pregnancy would
feel like. You can't imagine my shock when I later did the
test and it came up positive. I didn't want a baby! I'd only
just started a new life and a screaming kid wasn't part of
the plan. I discussed it with my partner and we were both
reasonably indifferent to it. The next day I went to register
myself with a new GP and got a pregnancy test at the same
time. The result would be in on the 6th August. That morning
I woke up with a bit of cramp and went to the toilet only
to discover that I had started bleeding. I panicked, even
I knew that bleeding in pregnancy was bad news. However, it
was only a little bit so I got dressed and went to the library
to get some books out on the subject of pregnancy, after all,
I'd need all the information I could get.
As it turned out none of the books I managed to get hold
of had a lot to say about any problems that may be encountered.
They all detailed the wonderful aspects of the miracle of
childbirth but only managed to devote one paragraph to the
prospect to losing a baby. They said that bleeding was common
but could mean trouble if accompanied with cramping, so I
was to report this to my GP. When I got home I realised that
I had started to bleed more heavily. I phoned up the GP for
my result and calmly mentioned what was happening. The receptionist
said that I should go in that afternoon. All of a sudden I
was frightened. This baby hadn't been planned and although
I didn't particularly want it, I certainly didn't want to
loose it. By the time I was sitting face to face with my GP
I was absolutely hysterical. He booked me into the EPAU for
the next morning and told me to go home and put my feet up,
after all, if I was going to miscarry then there was nothing
that could be done to prevent it. The next morning the cramping
and bleeding were far more intense. I had my scan and was
told that there was nothing there, the baby had already gone.
Now I was really confused. I was officially no longer pregnant,
surely this was what I had wanted, I had moved to Grimsby
to start a new life without a child and this plan was now
going to go ahead.
However, during the weeks that followed I had a change of
opinion. All of a sudden I DESPERATELY wanted a baby, and
so we decided that we would try for another, after all we
were both young, fit and healthy. Having a miscarriage was
common enough and didn't necessarily mean that my next pregnancy
wouldn't be successful. In the mean time I got a job and by
October we were trying for our second baby.
It wasn't until the following July that my period was a day
late and I went into town in my lunch hour to purchase another
pregnancy test. I couldn't wait this time and did the test
in the toilets in the shopping precinct. I was absolutely
over the moon when that magical little blue line appeared
confirming that I was indeed pregnant. I immediately phoned
up my GP for an appointment and that afternoon went in for
the "Official" test that would get the ball rolling along
the track of ultrasound scans, visit's to the midwife and
eventually the birth of my child!
A couple of days of happiness and excitement passed until
the day of my test result when I woke up in a lot of pain.
However, there was no blood and I was still optimistic. I
went into work feeling terrible and mid morning phoned the
doctors for my result. I couldn't believe it when the words
"inconclusive" and "need to do another" were being said to
me. I was told to go in after work and do another specimen
for them. After I put the phone down I went to the toilet
and again discovered that I had started bleeding. I didn't
bother doing another test until four days later, I knew that
this time it was over before it had even begun and this was
confirmed when the result came back negative a week later.
The most likely explanation for this is that it was a "chemical
pregnancy", it didn't implant properly and therefore wasn't
viable. This is probably quite common, many women will never
be aware that they were pregnant and will just assume that
their period was late. It's only down to the sensitivity of
modern day home pregnancy tests that I knew what was going
on.
Although this pregnancy only lasted a few days, in my mind
my child already had a name, a personality, had been through
school, university, was married and had children of his own.
By now I was reasonably depressed. I was under a lot of stress
at work and decided that this could hinder my chances of successfully
getting pregnant again. So I handed in my notice and lined
up a nice, stress free, part time job. I was prepared for
my next pregnancy to take a while, after all, the last one
had taken nine months, so imagine my surprise when just two
weeks after I had started my new job another home pregnancy
test confirmed that I was pregnant. Again, off to the doctors
for a test and another lecture about "trying not to worry"
and that "if you're going to loose it, you can't prevent it".
For two weeks I thought of nothing else. I became superstitious
and decided that if I sang all of the words to Wilson Phillips'
"Hold on" every day then everything would turn out fine.
Everything WAS fine until at six weeks I woke up and saw
that I had started to bleed again. In a panic I phoned up
to make an appointment with my doctor. Fortunately I was able
to get one that morning and after yet another "Nothing you
can do" lecture, my third one to date (and they don't become
anymore helpful the more you hear them) I was given the number
for the EPAU and told to phone them if I wanted a scan. That
afternoon I was again in a lot of pain and the bleeding had
become quite bad so I phoned them up and went straight in.
Three hours later I was looking at an ultrasound picture of
my baby. OK so it didn't look like a baby, it looked like
a blob with a little fluttering in the middle but to me this
was the most amazing thing I had ever seen in my life.
I was told that the bleeding wasn't coming from the baby
and that everything looked fine. I was to go home and rest,
if the pain or bleeding got worse then I was to call them
again. That night as I lay still I again planned out my babies
future, what it would look like when it was born and what
sort of mum I was going to be. The next morning when I woke
up I knew that it was all over. I begged the nurses for another
scan and in the afternoon I was faced with a motionless ultrasound
screen. I was offered a D&C but the prospect of the general
anaesthetic terrified me so I turned it down. I went home
to ponder yet another failed pregnancy. This wasn't to be
the end of it though. A week later I was still bleeding heavily
and it was decided that I would have a D&C after all. It was
a decision I wish I'd made sooner as although the waiting
was an ordeal it was a relief knowing that when I came round,
I could get on with life again.
I now qualified to see a consultant. I had some blood tests
done and had an appointment for the beginning of January 2000.
In the mean time I decided to get as much information as I
could. The library hadn't been much help so instead I spent
hours on the Internet. I joined an Internet support group
and although the majority of the women in it were American
and had a completely different set up where their health care
was concerned it was still a place I could go to and get some
understanding from people who weren't embarrassed to talk
to me.
When I had my appointment with the consultant I was told
that everything was normal apart from a slight problem with
my thyroid, I was given the go ahead to try again for the
fourth time. This was just as well as a week later yet another
home pregnancy test confirmed that I was pregnant again. I
was far from relaxed. It was a Saturday and I was in the process
of changing GP. I wouldn't be able to even make an appointment
until Monday and they had no idea of my history.
On Monday morning I phoned up and was told that I couldn't
see that doctor until Wednesday. Somehow I managed to keep
it together long enough to explain my situation and they agreed
that I could see him immediately. I was fine on my way to
the surgery and even in the waiting room. It wasn't until
I was again face to face with my new GP that I started sobbing.
I managed to tell him my story and begged for a blood test
this time, I knew that a urine one would come back negative
at this early stage and I was desperate for something different
to happen with this pregnancy. The nurse at the surgery phoned
up my consultant and it was arranged for me to have a blood
test that afternoon and an appointment with the consultant
the next day. This calmed me down a bit and when I was at
my appointment the next day with confirmation of my pregnancy
I begged to be put onto progesterone. I had read somewhere
that this could help to keep the pregnancy and was determined
to try anything, if I had read that running twenty miles a
day would help I would have done it.
I had a scan booked for six weeks and when the day arrived
I was apprehensive yet reasonably confident. I had had no
cramping and no bleeding, surely this time everything would
be perfect. The scan revealed a pregnancy sac but no heartbeat
yet. Still, I could live with this. I knew that not all pregnancies
showed a heartbeat at six weeks. I was rebooked for a week
later. A week went by still with no cramping or bleeding,
half of me was looking forward to seeing that fluttering on
the screen again but at the back of my mind though there was
still a nagging doubt that this could all still fall apart
for me at any time. I had read about "Blighted Ovum's" where
there is no baby, just a pregnancy, and the pessimistic side
of me thought that maybe my pregnancy was heading in this
direction. So on the morning of the scan I packed an overnight
bag to take with me, again the superstitious side of me thinking
that if I got too confident then I was tempting fate. This
didn't stop the worst from happening. The screen showed no
development and my HCG levels were too low to be supporting
a viable pregnancy. I decided there and then to have another
D&C. As I came round from the anaesthetic that afternoon my
consultant asked me if I'd like to be referred to the recurrent
miscarriage clinic at the Jessop hospital in Sheffield.
So six months, several visits to Sheffield and numerous tests
later, I was diagnosed with Antiphospholipid Syndrome and
Poly Cystic Ovary Syndrome. I'd had an Endometrial Biopsy,
a Hysterosalpinogram, more scans and blood tests. It was the
blood tests that showed the Antiphospholipid syndrome. Interestingly,
I had already tested negative for this, it seems that the
levels in the blood fluctuate and that for a positive result
they must be high for two consecutive blood tests. The PCOS
was confirmed by scan. It also transpired that the month they
had monitored my hormone levels prior to the biopsy, I hadn't
ovulated, another indication of PCOS.
In August 2000 we were given the go ahead to try again. It's
now February and the last six months have been incredibly
difficult for me. I spent that later half of the year 2000
very depressed, I did some serious comfort eating and managed
to put a stone on before Christmas. However, the new year
was a chance for me to look to the future. I know that diet
and exercise are very helpful for PCOS sufferers, so I have
been trying my best to be healthy in the hope that it will
increase my chances of conceiving. For the last two and a
half years I have lived and breathed the whole cycle of pregnancy
and miscarriage. This certainly is a world away from the life
I had planned for us when I first moved to Grimsby.
Not a day goes by when I don't think about it, it hurts so
much when I read about yet another celebrity who is pregnant
or who has given birth. It's not that I begrudge them their
happiness, far from it. I can now appreciate just what a miracle
having a baby is and hope that one day I am fortunate enough
to share this miraculous experience with them.
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