Sunday Night Fever

It started with a cough, nothing serious, just a little cough. On Saturday it got a little chestier. Saturday night, oh my, we were awoken by that pesky cough at 3.30am, it had got deeper from lying on it through the night. The amount of coughing caused little man to be a little sick. So in he came to Mama and Daddy's bed, resolutely lying on top of Mama and not sleeping again until it was time to get up.

A busy day and calpol kept the cough and temperature at bay on Sunday. Home again and the sore throat began, a croaky poorly boy with big sad eyes cuddled up to Mama on the sofa before bedtime. Hot honey and lemon was made and calpol dispensed before bed but that pesky cough would not shift. At 11.30pm little man awoke sick from too much coughing. Daddy brought him into our bed again and I got a hot feverish body lying on top of me. Mr Bump was retrieved from the fridge and used to cool a clammy forehead. Little sweaty fingers wrapped themselves in my hair, and a hot little head snuggled into my neck. And there we stayed until morning.

Doctors, grrr. Ours has a first come first served policy when phoning up from 8am. I couldn't get through for twenty five minutes and when I did, all appointments were taken, the earliest was for 3.30pm the next day. I took a day off work, a day when really I should have been in the office, and little man perked up. Calpol and hot apple juice with lemon and honey have kept him happy, as has a new Peppa pig game on Mummy's Kindle and a walk in the glorious spring sunshine to get some fresh air. Nap time came around and when he woke up he was immediately sick again (his bedding has never had so much washing in so short a time), so more cuddles on the sofa and hot apple juice to drink.

To top it off we've not been able to use the bath/shower for four days, not good when really all I want to do is dump a sickly, sweaty toddler into a haven of warm water and bubbles. Instead we have sponge baths by the sink and wet wipe rub downs. Plumber has yet to appear.

So not a good start the week, I hope yours was better. I have Pilates tonight and will be keeping my fingers crossed that our bed stays ours tonight and the cough begins to subside.

A day in the life

I love reading these types of posts on other blogs and haven't done one in a while so thought I'd capture a couple of days in the life of a working mama whilst Charlie is 2 yrs 11 months and my office has finally moved to Piccadilly.

Monday - Hubs and I alternate nursery drop offs and pick ups through the week and as I collect C on a Monday I have to be in work early so I can leave at 4pm.

The alarm goes off at 5.30am and I shower and dress quietly so I don't wake my boys. Packed lunch today is yesterday's leftover spaghetti so I chop a salad and am pleased I made a jar full of homemade Caesar dressing last week as there's plenty left. I'm already running late so no time to make coffee. As I leave T is just getting up and I can hear stirring in C's room. Some days he's wide awake by now and I get a toddler cuddle before I go, but not today.

As I walk past the bus stop on the way to the station a serendipitous bus pulls in so I jump on and make it in time for the 6.38 train, which is delayed and then cancelled. I read the BBC headlines on my phone as I wait get the next train instead. I read my book on the train, May We Be Forgiven, it's this week's choice for my work book club and I need to finish it in time for the meeting on Thursday.

At London Bridge I wait on a platform looking up at the Shard and then step aboard a train to Charing Cross. I go past the London Eye, the river and Big Ben, I love my new commute! I walk to Piccadilly through Trafalgar Square, it's early and quiet. As I failed to pack a coffee or breakfast I stop at Eat to pick up a latte and some bircher muesli.

At work I'm the first in and spend a quiet hour answering emails and updating copy for a competition page that needs prioritising. As my colleagues start arriving we chat about our weekends and log on to the MDS website to track a team member running in the Marathon des Sables (6 races in the desert in 7 days), he's doing well and is in the top 20%. My desk buddy and our team assistant has just got back from an American holiday, so the morning is filled with talk about San Francisco and New York, in my head I mentally work out when I would next be able to do this and reckon it would at least be another 8 years...

I have a couple of meetings to discuss some leaflet printing and the content for this month's newsletter, the rest of the day is spent writing copy and briefing web pages. The news of Margaret Thatcher's death and the subsequent books that will be published come in throughout the afternoon and we also discuss who we think will win this year's Women's Prize for Fiction.

At 4pm I leave the office and get the trains back home to collect C from nursery. He's had an accident, a bitten lip while being silly and running under a table. The lip is swollen into what looks like a blood blister, the nursery teacher says if it pops then there will be a lot of blood so to keep an eye on it. They'd already put an ice pack on it and there wasn't anything else we could do. I sign an accident form and help C into his coat. The lip doesn't seem to affect his mood and he happily says goodbye to all his friends.

We walk to the bus stop and he tells me about his day, they went in the garden but came back in for lunch, he painted and played with his best friend (he'll have done much more than this but that is all he'll tell me). On the bus we go upstairs and sit at the front, C loves shouting out everything he sees but hates it when I suggest he pretends to be the driver "the driver's downstairs mama and we're upstairs".

At home C takes off his coat and hangs it on his peg. I remind him to take off his shoes and he puts them away too. I make him a yogurt milkshake whilst he grabs a babybel from the fridge and is immensely proud that he can open it by himself. We snuggle on the sofa and watch some beebies, then I give him an early bath and get his jammies on.

I've got a Pilates class tonight, so when Daddy gets home he's the one who reads C his bedtime story (Thomas the Tank Engine's Murdoch) whilst I change into my gym gear. My friend picks me up and we drive to the dance studio. This is the first class of a 6 week course and it feels great to be out doing something on an evening. We have a great time and I get home by 9.30am. T and I then watch some Arrested Development and then it's time for bed and more reading of  May We Be Forgiven.

Tuesday - It's my day to take C to nursery so I get a bit of a lie in. T leaves at 6.15am and C wakes (and therefore I get up) at 6.30am. We have a morning hug and I fix him a milkshake. His lip is looking much better, though still a little swollen. He's really into singing at the moment, so after I explain that we shouldn't sing Jingle Bells in April, we decide to sing Hickory Dickory Dock, he gets really involved, giggling at the 2nd and 3rd verses and repeating it over and over.

Whilst sitting on the potty we sing Hot Cross Buns and whilst getting dressed it's Miss Polly. C then watches some Peppa Pig on the TV (he's learnt to pause, start and return to the menu on our DVD player) whilst I have a shower. As a treat I let him pick one of his Easter chocolates, he picks a rabbit and demolishes whilst I'm getting ready, I leave a wipe for him to clean his hands and mouth after he's finished and as he hate's having sticky fingers he uses it perfectly. I wear a new pink cardigan which is way more frilly then I remember it being in the shop and as I'm feeling full of energy from the Pilates I get some housework done, a quick tidy, washing up and laundry on.

It's drizzling today so we walk down to nursery in the rain. I let him pick which way we go and he waves good morning to the lady at the bus stop who always greets him. At nursery we hang his hat, gloves and coat on his peg and he gives me a big hug goodbye. I leave him deciding what he's going to have for breakfast and asking when his best friend will arrive.

I start writing this post on the train into work  and then walking through Trafalgar Square I see Dr Who's Tardis suspended from a crane with a woman inside. At first I think it's something for the tourists, but then realise that they actually are filming Dr Who! Jumping up and down beneath the Tardis is Matt Smith and it's Jenna-Louise Coleman hanging out of the Tardis' door. I stop and take photos and a film which includes a Japanese tourist asking me what's going on. Then a squad of actors dressed in U.N.I.T uniforms march in and I phone T who is madly jealous!

At work it's little quiet as two of our team are out today. I have a weekly catch up meeting with web designer and a publisher meeting, then spend the rest of the day pretty much the same as yesterday getting assets and pages ready for our monthly newsletter. I get two signed off nice and early which is good.

At lunch time a friend from work and I go back to Trafalgar Square to see if they're still filming and amazingly they are! The crowd around the Tardis is now massive, and randomly we get asked by people from Capital FM if we would like record sound bites for their breakfast show, we decline.

After work all public transport works perfectly for me and I'm home in time to spend time with C before bed. He gives me a huge hug when I get in and then proceeds to show me a catalogue of Thomas the Tank toys he wants for his birthday. Daddy helps him clean his teeth and then I read him a story in bed.

I make a quick dinner, stuffed mushroom, garlic bread and broccoli and then T and I watch some more Arrested Development as I write this post.

Easter Weekend 2013 - part two

Easter weekend 2013 part 1

Having planned to have a quiet weekend at home this year, we've actually been really busy. Here's some of what we've been up to.

Charlie's nursery closed for a half day teacher training on Thursday, so C and I went for a long walk in the park, made a big swirly train track and did some sink play. On Saturday we swapped eggs with Nana and Grandad, saw T's brother and had lunch at Byrons.

On Saturday we went with C's friend little T to do an Easter Egg Hunt at The Horniman Museum. The boys had to find yellow flags which they loved doing. They'd spot one and run off to see what baby animal picture was underneath. Each flag had a letter, once you'd got all the letters and unscrambled the anagram you could hand your sheet in to claim a crème egg. We also saw some bunnies and sheep and went down to the aquarium to see the fish.

Today (Easter Sunday) we decided to go for a family trip to Ightham Mote, a National Trust house 40 mins drive away in Kent. It was really cold, so walking around the stately home kept us warm and C was really well behaved. He then had a run in the gardens and loved the waterfall which he described as 'massive'.

The reality of what I've lost

12 days after the ERPC operation I had after my silent miscarriage I am physically better. The bleeding is slowing and I'm no longer taking pain meds for the occasional cramps I still get. However the emotional side effects are still emerging and today it struck me what it is that I've lost. It wasn't just a 12 week foetus that was removed from me, it was:

- A life time of love and nurturing, of birthdays and schools and university and jobs.

- A September birthday and the chance to be one of the oldest in their year group. 

- A nine month maternity break from work (during our busy Christmas period). 

- The opportunity to lessen the guilt of being a full time working Mum to my first son before he starts infant school as there is no longer a maternity leave to allow him to only be a part time nursery attendee. 

- The widening age gap between my first and second born.
- The timing of this birth with other family announcements. 

- The peace of mind of only ever experiencing a good pregnancy and not being on future tenterhooks at every tiny pregnancy discomfort or symptom. 

It feels like my life has split down a different road, chaos theory in full blown Technicolor. The plans and hopes and dreams I had, have been ripped away to be replaced with a much much harder road to travel, the heartache I have experienced and the heartache I know I have to come are almost unbearable. 

And just right now I have no positive end paragraph, people say time will help but how can time help when the one thing I thought I'd have was a lifetime with this little one? 

Toddler day out in London

After the rollercoaster of the last week and a half I decided that my son and I needed a Mummy-Charlie day out. So having gone back to work for the first time on Thursday, I kept Friday as a holiday day and took my boy for some toddler fun in London.

We went to The London Transport Museum for Tom's birthday at the start of the month and got given a free annual pass, so because he had enjoyed it so much I took the boy back to look at all the trains and buses.

My new office is on the 6th floor of a gorgeous building in Piccadilly, so after visiting the museum we went to see my colleagues. Charlie loved the view through the window, in particular the massive cranes just outside and the fact that he could see the London Eye. We then bought a new Thomas book (Alfie the Excavator) and read it and did jigsaw puzzles in the café.

A long bus ride, train home and walk in the park have made my little lad super tired and he fell fast asleep when we got home, hopefully dreaming of trains and cranes.

I love it that London is right on my doorstep and C has got to an age where we can really enjoy a day out together. Plus, apart from lunch and the book, the whole day cost me nothing and kept my mind from those dark thoughts.

Miscarriage - my coping techniques

Today, six days after I found out about my silent miscarriage, I stumbled across this amazingly upbeat post on Netmums from a woman who has had a far worse time then me and it got me thinking about coping techniques. So I've put together a plan with the idea that as each step gets ticked off I will feel one step closer to getting back to me again. Some of it I've already done, but it feels right to write it as if I was back at the beginning again.

- Step 1 - Take the first few days to grieve. Cry, eat chocolate, keep topped up on pain meds. Read about miscarriage online and take comfort from other women's experiences. Writing down the whole story was the first thing I did that made me feel a tiny bit better. I've re-read that blog post many many times, it's a comfort to re-live the events in an orderly manner rather then have them bouncing around. I haven't yet been able to read it without a few tears, but it feels good and more in control then just letting those powerful memories overpower me.

- Step 2 - Take the time to let your body adjust. It's terribly cruel that straight after the operation outwardly you look no different. My bump was still there, large and hard and I read that it could take at least 4 weeks for it to disappear. On day five it lost the hardness and although still there it is already smaller. The winter coat I could only do up the top button on fits again. I want to get back to being fit and healthy again so have signed up for a 6 week Pilates course starting in 2 weeks time

- Step 3 - Don't feel guilty about enjoying the things you've missed. There's a balance to find to help feel normal again. Having coffee is a nice to have, I'm not drinking as much as I did pre-pregnancy but buying a full latte rather then a decaf now feels like a treat. The house had got into a bit of a state, so I'm embracing all the chemicals I'd been avoiding whilst pregnant and having a spring clean. Even catching up on the blog posts I'd missed was good and I've starting dipping into my own blog at random to discover memories of Charlie that I had forgotten. There's also a bottle of red waiting for when I feel ready.

- Step 4 - Take this time to focus on you. I've mentioned Pilates and I've booked a hair cut for tomorrow. One big issue for me is that without the baby I can't bear to wear any of my maternity clothes or the things I wore to disguise the bump at work. So I am going to buy some in-betweeny clothes, not maternity in cut but a bigger size whilst I wait (and work) for my tummy to shrink back down. These can also been seen as an investment because when we cross that pregnancy bridge again (and we will once we can face it)  I will have some larger sized clothing to wear in the stage before needing maternity clothes. Even just looking at clothing sites online has given me a mini project to focus on as I decide which colours and looks to go for.

- Step 5 - Read a good book. Reading is a big thing for me but it's also incredibly relaxing if you're facing time alone as you adjust to your loss. I'm reading Ada's Rules  because it's what happened to be on my shelf, but am finding a lot of comfort in it. The story of a large American lady trying to lose weight is uplifting, takes my mind off my own life and is also inspirational as she also has a goal to reach. My favourite tip from the book so far has been 'Fake it to Make it', until everything feels better again, I will put on a smile and pretend that it already is.

- Step 6 - Start making contact with friends, family and colleagues. When this first happened the only people I could bear to see face to face were my husband and son. Email, text and FB messaging have been a good way to tell the news. We've selected the people we tell and I can take a deep breath before reading their replies, or stop and come back to it later when I feel strong enough. One week after we first found out I'm now tentatively making plans to face people. I've been in touch with work, and will go back for a one day week this Thursday, I'm picking dates 2 or 3 months away to meet up with friends who live a long way away and am tentatively organising a play date for the weekend.

Recovering - one day at a time

It's four days since my ERPC operation and I'm starting to feel a little more like me again. We're taking it one day at a time and there's still some big emotional mountains to climb, but right now I'm skirting around them and concentrating hard on getting through each day.

To add to the confusion around the miscarriage I had to return to hospital this morning for an anti-D injection. My blood results came back as neither rhesus D positive or negative and have been sent on for further analysis. To be safe I had the jab anyway just in case I am negative and it could affect a future pregnancy. It took all my strength to revisit the hospital so soon and not breakdown. I sat in the same two waiting rooms and saw the same nurse as before, and although it was only four days ago, I was able to realise emotionally how far I have come, yes there were a few tears when I first sat down but I wiped them away and pulled it together. This time the EPAU had at least three women who looked how I had looked six days ago, I wanted to say to them that they will recover and get better, but of course I couldn't, I read my book and tried to keep my mind clear and the threatening tears away.

I've now had time to reflect on the 12 weeks of pregnancy before the miscarriage and how they had taken their toll on me. It was a bad pregnancy. I felt queasy and tired all the time, my skin dried out, I couldn't brush my teeth without gagging and there was a constant fog on my brain, but I also thought I'd get through it, that when I was safely into the 2nd trimester I would look back on the bad times and think that it was all worth it. Now my skin is (rather ironically) looking radiant, my brain is tick tick ticking over and I am enjoying being able to eat anything from the fridge without  throwing up. The big emotional mountain here is what happens if I get pregnant again and go through the same symptoms? However this mountain is in the distance and I've turned my back on it for now. Other mountains looming are how will I cope in September when I'm still at work and not on maternity leave, and a rather close one, how will I cope going back to work and having a tricky conversation come up?

Facebook is a bit of a minefield, it's been hard to see pregnant friends complaining about Braxton hicks, posting week by week updates and seeing the photos of the little girl born the day I had my baby removed (particularly as she is wearing the same baby-gro Tom gave me on Mother's Day, which took place four days after our baby had died but we still weren't aware).

I am finding a lot of comfort in reading the miscarriage and loss chat boards on NetMums. Even though I'm not participating in them, it is comforting to read the advice and success stories from women who have gone on to have a happy healthy pregnancy afterwards. One member wrote a wonderful quote:

"No one will ever know how much I love you, because you are the only one who heard my heart beat from the inside"

I loved reading this as it summed up my feelings entirely and also made me realise how lucky I am that I already have a little someone who has heard my heart from the inside and who fills it up again every day. When Charlie came back home on Saturday, coping with the miscarriage stepped up a gear. Suddenly I was singing songs about goblins, covered in wet kisses and being accused that I'd fed him (horror of horrors) an orange babybel instead of a red one (I hadn't but he refused to believe me). It is the normality of cooking pancakes, walking in the park, splashing in puddles and cooking spaghetti (just like Peppa Pig) that shows me that our family can get through this, we are strong together and although we have been horribly shaken, we are not broken.

Miscarriage - a mother's devastation

 

There's a pattern to look out for on Mummy blogs, the posts become shorter, more sporadic, less in depth and then a few months later there's a pregnancy announcement, a flood of newborn preparation posts and cute older brother/sister photos.

This was supposed to happen to me but instead at 12 weeks I had a silent miscarriage and only knew about it 6 days later at my first scan.

I want to write about it here for selfish reasons, I hope it will be cathartic to have everything that's raw and painful written in one place so I can move on, I can't speak to family and friends about it face to face yet but hope to direct those close to me here if they want to know more about what happened and I hope it will give some help/support to those going through the same experience. I have definitely found understanding and comfort in reading messages in blogs and forums from other strong women.

My first pregnancy was pretty much textbook, I was a little queasy but only physically sick once, no real issues came up and I gave birth to a healthy 8lb,9oz baby boy in 4 hours from start to finish. We started trying for baby no. 2 last year and the little pink line appeared this February with baby due 20th September. Almost immediately after finding out I knew this pregnancy was different, I was queasy 22 hours a day every day, I was fatigued constantly and put all my energy into getting through work and then spending time with my son. Reading on the computer screen gave me headaches and so I stopped posting on the blog, stopped taking photos and felt guilty about spending weekends inside instead of taking my boy out and about. When I spoke about these symptoms to the midwife she said this was normal and repeated what I'd read in What to Expect When You're Expecting, morning sickness is caused by increased hormone levels and so it's possible I was expecting twins as the higher the levels the more sick you get.

About a week and a half before my scan I started being physically sick, at first once over a few days and then daily, usually in the evening after work. In total I was physically sick nine times, but when I looked it up in the pregnancy book, it was down as a sign of pregnancy and nothing flagged up that it could be a sign that I'd lost the baby. It was only in hindsight, reading specifically about silent miscarriage that I read vomiting is sometimes a symptom.

My '12 week scan' was booked for 12 weeks, 6 days, we planned to announce baby two to family and friends after the scan and were annoyed that it was 6 days later then the name suggests. We had told close family (including Charlie) at 7 weeks, and at 12 weeks told a few selected friends, in total 19 people knew I was pregnant, including my line manager at work because I'd been feeling so ill. I feel absolutely terrible that we even had a mini-dinner party with two friends to tell them the news without knowing that my baby had already died.

On Tuesday my husband and I took the afternoon off work and got the train together to the hospital for the scan. I was so excited to see the baby, that morning I had dug out the 12 week scan pic of Charlie so I could compare them when we arrived home.

The waiting room was full of pregnant women, young, old with families, kids, partners. It was busy and noisy and I was pleased when we were called in relatively quickly. The sonographer turned the screen on, located the baby and said something like 'there's your beautiful baby'. The first thought to go through my head was 'it's very still, is it sleeping?' Almost immediately after this I replaced that with 'no, something's wrong'. In Charlie's scan's he'd always been at an upright angle, swishing around. This little one, the size of a plum, was lying flat at the very bottom of the womb with, I think, his back to the screen. He looked perfect, but wasn't moving. The sonographer asked if I'd had cramps or bleeding and I said no, but long before this the message was flashing on repeat through my brain 'he's dead, he's dead, he's dead'. She looked for maybe a minute or two and then said she thought it was sad news but she needed to get a nurse to confirm. My husband and I were left staring at the screen for 2 or 3 minutes (which felt like hours) at our dead baby.

I'm not sure when the baby turned into a boy in my mind, at 12 week's it's too early to tell, but talking to the nurse the next day she suggested that you should almost always go with your gut feeling as this is usually right. The nurse came in, looked at the screen and confirmed there was no heartbeat. The sonographer said the baby was the right size for 12 weeks so would have died then. Tom pointed out later that the biggest thing missing was the noise. With Charlie the room had been filled with the sound of his beating heart, but from the start there was absolutely no noise here.

The tears started falling immediately. I got up and wiped the gel from my bump with flooded cheeks and the feeling of my contact lenses welding to my eyes. We were told that we'd need to come back tomorrow to talk through options but the sonographer would take us to a nurse now to give us a little more information. So we had to go back through that waiting room brimming with pregnant women and feel all eyes on us as I clutched my belly and silent tears fell down my cheeks. We went to the waiting room in the EPAU ward, which thankfully was empty, and had a long wait to see the nurse. She was very good, she kept things short, gave me leaflets about the options which I didn't have to read unless I felt up to, and gave us written instructions to come back between 9am-11am the following day to discuss everything fully. We got a taxi home.

I found I couldn't face talking to any family or friends, so T took charge, he was amazing phoning our parents and my brother, arranging time off from his work and making me tea. I emailed a short email to my manager requesting time off and cancelled a visit to see a friend's new baby for the following week.

We read through the leaflets over a cup of tea and found out about the three options:

Surgically: an operation, often called an ERPC which removes everything from the womb, I'd be booked in quickly and take a couple of weeks to physically recover. You have to have a general anaesthetic and there's the usual risks involved in doing this.
Medically: with a combination of pills and vaginal pessaries which will make labour start, I would have to give birth to the baby and it could take a long time, there would be a lot of blood.
Naturally: letting nature take its course which could take up to 6 weeks and I would be at home alone with the blood and possibly an intact body.

When I first heard the names of the three options, I immediately thought I'd want to go with the medical one, but on reading the details and with Charlie in mind, I opted for the surgery. I wanted everything to be over quickly and there was no way I wanted Charlie to walk in and find me bleeding or in pain. T and I talked things over and then we had some respite when he collected Charlie from nursery and I had two hours before bedtime playing with my boys rather then thinking dark thoughts.

Night time was the worst. I dropped in and out of consciousness crying almost continually and never  forgetting even for a minute what had happened. My brain conjured up all sorts of images, but the one I couldn't shake was of a jelly Futurama toy T had at university. It was filled with a fluorescent green slime and inside was a small plastic model of Bender, the robot. Bender floated in the gunk and fell around whichever way you shook it. I couldn't shake the image of my baby being like the plastic Bender and my womb having a snow globe effect so that every time I moved the dead baby would float and sink like the plastic robot. I had strong thoughts of denial, I prayed for some kind of maternal magic to prove the scan wrong, that actually my baby was fine, I still felt pregnant and somehow my baby would come alive again. I thought dark thoughts of sharp things, knives and glass and teeth and claws, tearing me apart inside and most of all I hated my treacherous body for not giving me a clue. Not a single cramp or drop of blood which would have taken me to the hospital a little earlier. I couldn't bear that my baby had been dead inside me for 6 whole days and I'd been none the wiser.

Morning dawned and I stayed in bed whilst T got my son ready and took him to nursery. I couldn't eat but did shower, dress and have a cup of tea which I felt was pretty good. I even stopped crying and gave my puffy face some relief.

When we drove to the hospital I found I couldn't speak to the receptionist so handed my card to him silently. Already it felt wrong, the hospital had kept hold of my green baby book, so unlike the other pregnant women in the queue, I had a tiny appointment card rather then a big A4 booklet to clutch. We sat in the exact same seats as we had for our scan, and my tears started again. We had to wait amidst all the other pregnant women knowing that ours was dead. After what seemed like an eternity (20 mins) we were given the number 19 and taken to the EPAU waiting room. Yesterday we'd been told the other women waiting there may be in the same situation as us or experiencing bleeding and the symptoms you'd expect with a regular miscarriage. However the waiting room was full and I don't think any of the women there had had confirmation of a dead baby. I was the only one with a puffy swollen face and most were going through for scans rather then just seeing the nurse like we were. What made it worse was there was a beautiful little girl, about 18 months in a pretty dress with her pregnant mother, it was incredibly hard to watch a child (particularly as she was loud and having tantrums) when I knew I was a massive step backwards from having an 18 month old again.

As it was a drop-in clinic we spent most of the day in that waiting room, waiting to see the nurse, filling in paperwork and seeing the surgeon to discuss the procedure. It was the same lady we'd seen the day before and she handled everything really amazingly. It was a very tough conversation, I was in tears for much of it and twice, when describing the options and next steps she used the phrase 'I'm sorry but I'm not going to sugar coat this for you'. I was booked in for the ERPC operation for 7.30am the following morning, we filled in paperwork asking for the hospital to cremate the remains for us and they took a blood sample. We were sent for a coffee and then came back to talk to the surgeon, although she wouldn't be doing the surgery, she talked us through the procedure (some very gruesome details) and more paperwork was filled in. She explained the risks involved with general anaesthetic, the infection risk of having surgical equipment inside me and the fact that they are as gentle as they can be, so it's possible that I'd need another operation if not everything was removed first time. We were also given stats, 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage and the overall resounding message from everyone we talked to was that it was not our fault, there was nothing that could be done to stop a miscarriage once it started and it would almost certainly be chromosomal, the baby wasn't right genetically. After spending hours downstairs we went upstairs to the ward I'd be arriving on the following day. Here they took my stats, filled in more forms did an MRSA swab (it came back negative) and gave us details on what to bring and where to go the following day.

We picked Charlie up on the way home and Tom arranged for his parents to come and collect him that evening and have him for a few days. We have yet to tell him that the tiny baby in Mama's tummy has gone, but did explain that Mummy was poorly and going to see the doctor the following day. At home there was a beautiful bunch of white flowers waiting for us from my parents and we had had lots of messages of help and support from our close family. I found I still couldn't face talking about it to anyone but Tom, so after playing with Charlie for an hour or so, I went to bed whilst the boys waited for T's parents to arrive. T then called my family to give them an update on where things stood.

The second night was easier, I was exhausted and slept deeply until about 3am, then it was time to face more tears, more dark thoughts and after I finally fell back to sleep the alarm was waking me at 5.45am. I had to wash with hibiscrub, an antiseptic medical wash and dressed in my maternity combats and soft grey maternity jumper. Still having the bump and being uncomfortable in normal clothes is very hard, part of me feels I shouldn't wear maternity clothes without a baby, but I can't fit comfortably in my normal ones so am stuck with stretchy waists and bump sized jumpers.

On this, day three of knowing about the death of our baby, the initial grief and raw harsh emotions had passed. The long day of focus and filling in paperwork at hospital had helped and emotionally although still very upset I could control the tears better and stay calmer. We were focussed on the removal of the body rather then the loss of all the hopes and dreams of our future family. The baby was no longer an alive, bright future, it had slipped quietly into becoming a much loved and missed being. I found that I could begin to think more rationally about my feelings surrounding the loss.

At the hospital I was taken to a bed and had the curtains pulled round. T stayed with me as I put on the hospital gown, dressing gown and slippers. Then the surgeon came to see us, he was very good. The nurse yesterday had reassured us that these operations happen every day and no students or trainee surgeons do them, it is always a senior surgeon. He spoke to us for 5 minutes about what he was going to do and assured us that it wasn't our fault, that humans are very complicated to make and sometimes the chromosomes don't come together properly. After the surgeon we saw the anaesthetist. He was also very reassuring and explained the medicines I'd be taking and the process. At 8.50am I said goodbye to Tom and was taken down to the anaesthetist's room. Here I stripped to the gown, lay on a trolley and had the cannulae put into my hand (it took ages because of my 'tiny veins'). Then they gave me a strong painkiller followed by the anaesthetic and I was asked to breathe in oxygen. After 10 slow breathes I was completely unconscious until the nurse in recovery was calling my name.

The operation was quick, less then an hour and I recovered quickly too. I breathed more oxygen and was fully awake and wheeled down to another ward. Here I ate toast, rested, went to the loo and then at 12.30pm was released. I was given some antibiotics to take when I got home, to stop possible infection from the operation, and given discharge papers. These confirmed the baby died at 12 weeks and that it was removed through the ERPC. Tom met me and took me home.

So now I'm recovering, it's the day after the operation and I'm pretty numb. Paracetemol and Ibuprofen keep the pain in my womb away (as long as I remember to take them at the right times), I'm bleeding but it's light and the parallels to feelings after actual birth are pretty similar, though I'm less sore this time round. I spent yesterday afternoon watching cheesy movies and reading websites and forums about what I've been through. Most helpful have been The Miscarriage Association and the Miscarriage Support pages on NetMums. Charlie is still with his grandparents, Tom will pick him up tomorrow. Tom is off work today, I have to have someone with me for 24 hours after a GA, so he's planning on doing some odd jobs around the house. Emotionally I'm nowhere near ready to go back to work or even to talk about this experience face to face, but I hope (and already feel) that writing this down is helping, it's no longer bouncing around my head so much, and I look forward to things returning to a sense of normality soon.

The final thought I want to leave here is how wonderful the team were at Lewisham Hospital, every step of the way we were supported and the information given was emotionally right for the stage we were at. The fact that the maternity unit is one of those under threat of closure and that this caring team of professionals may not be helping other grieving families in the near future is terrible. For more information and to show your support visit the Save Lewisham Hospital website.

A weekend in Wiltshire



We spent the weekend visiting my parents in Wiltshire, my brother and sister-in-law stayed too.

 

Photos courtesy of my brother!

It was a wet and windy weekend, so we stayed inside for much of the time, though Granny, Charlie and Uncle S did venture out into the garden.

- Daddy and Mummy staying warm
- C playing in the garden
- Spring is on it's way - snowdrops in the garden
- Digging the parsnips for Sunday lunch with Granny. They dug up an octopus parsnip which C loved and after it had been washed he carried it around the house with him (he still refused to eat parsnips at lunch though).
- Sheep in the barn
- Cat in the house - Willow seemed a little more mellow with C and occasionally let him have a stroke
- Collecting Grandad's toy rockets
- Playing the piano