I’ll never forget the shock and surprise when the first blue line changed my life forever. And the rollercoaster ride we embarked on, first with Daisy and then Poppy, was a journey like no other. But never did I think our journey would end here. In a waiting room getting ready for tests to try and answer the questions I have constantly whirling round my head: why have I lost three babies; will I have another? But no-one can tell us.
So this morning I found myself sitting in the clinic of a new hospital – I couldn’t face my old hospital having walked out there empty-bellied and empty-handed three times, the joyous memories of my two glorious girls there diminished. Pouring grains of rock salt into my raw wounds (my last miscarriage was only 5 weeks ago), two women sit in the clinic with me waiting for their newborn’s checkups, their post-baby bellies exulting their triumphs, while my flat stomach hosts only my grief. It doesn’t matter that I have two beautiful babies, they and any subsequent babies will never rub out the loss of my other three. All I have of two of them are the scans, and the sound of their heartbeats still thudding in the dark of the night as I lie awake, wondering.
I have nothing from the third. It was announced with a blue line on the day my previous pregnancy was due. But six weeks later it was gone. Like a new mother, I am intimate with the long lost hours of the night, sleepless as if my brain is expecting to be woken through the night, in denial that I have no baby to soothe. So instead I go and check on my girls, my glorious girls, and their sleeping smiles soothe me. Grief is the loneliest emotion. I cannot share it, I cannot explain it. It just is.
And suddenly I am lifted. A new doctor, and new face. She is kind and patient and authoritative and just what I need. We will have tests – antibodies, chromosomal, bloods, scans, but more importantly we have a plan. I’m not going into this alone. It may only be aspirin and hormones, but it feels as though I am doing something positive. It may lead to more heartbreak, but it may lead to a new wonderful life, and either way I’ll know we tried everything we could. It may be another rollercoaster, but I’m ready for the journey.
I promise to return to a more jolly festive fever soon…..