On Sunday the 17^th April 2016 I woke up, got out of bed and went to relive my full bladder. Something I had come accustomed to doing each morning for the past two months.

I was 11 weeks and five days pregnant with my first child.

However, on this morning my normal check of the toilet tissue, post wipe, was stained with blood. I instantly begun to panic, crying the word No out repeatedly, louder and louder.

Five years prior I had been diagnosed with a condition called Endometriosis and then two years later, the secondary condition, Adenomyosis. The specialist I had been seeing over this time told me that my likelihood of ever being able to sustain and carry a pregnancy was diminished due to the growths of endometrial tissue that was now growing into the muscle of my uterus. The specialist had also brought up freezing of eggs, low AMH levels and the possibility of needed IVF.

To be honest our conversations had always been a bit of a blur. These aren’t things any woman wants to hear. And all my brain was yelling at me was that I was defective, that I was broken, that my dream of ever having children was OVER!!

After my second operation to remove the growths inside my abdominal cavity, I was at my wits ends. I had followed my specialist advice and directive to the letter and yet here I was, back in hospital worse than at the beginning. That’s when I decided I would fix myself, so I went to see a Naturopath and begun my journey of healing. It took me almost 2 years to feel like my body was mine again and to feel like I could be ready for a pregnancy (read more about this here).

Although when I did, accidently, get pregnant in early February 2016, I wasn’t in the best place emotionally, even though I was physically very healthy. My pregnancy become my shining beacon of hope and it gave me a reason to carry on.

So, with all this in my mind, seeing the blood on the toilet tissue brought my world crashing down around me. I was defective, I was still broken in more ways than one.

My partner and I rush to the closest hospital and into the emergency department. The doctors took blood and wheeled me in for an ultrasound.

I hadn’t yet had my first antenatal appoint with the midwife, that was still about 3 weeks away although the appointment  letter was at home, so this would be my first ultrasound of the baby I wanted and needed so badly. I was positive that as soon as the doctor started, the screen would light up and the heart beat would be audible. Yet this wasn’t the case.

The doctor quickly turned the screen away from my view, and begun to scramble for words to fill the silence. She said she would need to take a few pictures and video and get the attending doctor to come and see me. And with that I was whisked back to my room to wait for the life crushing news that was to come.

When the doctor came in and told me, in a very sympathetic and low tone, that I had lost my pregnancy, the room begun to spin, it was like I was being drawn outwards from my body, I couldn’t breath and I couldn’t comprehend anything that was being said to me. I wasn’t in that room anymore I wasn’t even sure if I was still alive. Tears were streaming down my face; my body was shanking. My partner was holding me, tears rolling down his cheeks.

In that moment my life felt like it had ended.

I went home, in a daze. The hospital had said that I needed to see if I could pass the products of conception (it was no longer called a foetus or a baby) naturally. I had to come back into the hospital one week later, but until then I had to stay at home and wait.

The wait was torture and I sat on the couch a crumpled mess of a woman. I was unable to stop crying, tears constantly ran down my face.

It wasn’t until Monday the 25^th April, a full week after my world was shattered, that my body begun to expel the baby, child, love, I had been carrying inside of me.

My lower back was stiff and sore, my abdomen was tensing. The blood begun to get heavier, and thicker. I remember crying, knowing what was coming, and looking out the lounge room window to the slowly waning moon, begging for it to give me strength to just get through this, I didn’t care what happened next in my life, I just had to get through THIS.

I moved to the bathroom as the pain increased and flow got heavier. From in here I could feel my body trying to undergo a natural evacuation of everything inside me, yet my heart was begging it not to leave. I didn’t want this to be happening to me and I didn’t want to face the reality that this wasn’t going to the be the pregnancy that gave me a child. Would I ever be able to have a child? This felt like it was my only chance and with every cramp and shooting pain that rushed through my body, it felt like that chance was slipping further and further out of my reach.

I must have been hysterical at this stage as my boyfriend was begging me to let him into the bathroom. When I felt it was over, I collapsed forward and unlocked the door. He rushed in and meet me on the floor in front of the toilet. I couldn’t look back into the bowl and see what was in there. It terrified me. So instead, we sat, holding each other, on the floor of the bathroom crying into each other’s arms. This to date, was the most traumatic and soul-destroying experiences of my life.

The next day we went into the hospital to check that I had passed everything the night before. It appeared I had, and the internal ultrasound was intensely painful and felt over invasive after what I had just been through.

However, my bleeding didn’t stop which meant a week later I had to go back in for a procedure to clean the last remnants from my defective uterus.

You see this whole time I had the strong belief inside that it was my fault, that I am incapable of sustaining a pregnancy. Well-meaning loved ones tried to give me positive advice that I was very fertile right now and that I should try for another pregnancy straight away. This, by the way, was the furthest thing from my mind at this time. In fact, the thought of it gave me such a deep anxiety that I couldn’t even entertain the idea.

I understand that for some women, its simply just a case of trying again, and soon. But for me, that wasn’t the case. I felt so broken and lost.

Its been almost 2 years since I lost my baby. I was 11 weeks and 5 days into my pregnancy with what would have been my first child, when I lost it. I try and tell myself that it just wasn’t meant to be, that it wasn’t viable, yet I can’t shake the thought that maybe it was because of the issues I have, that I am unable to ever carry a baby.

The doctor from the hospital that delivered the life shattering news to me had made a comment when asked Why??? That they don’t check the why, with a miscarriage, until the woman has had 4 consecutive losses, can you imagine!? So many women are out there wondering, is it my fault, am I defective? Just like I am. This isn’t right! To go through that pain 4 times before action is taken is unthinkable. I feel like this has also played into my inability to try again. I know I can’t go through this again. I can’t try, and have it taken from me again, I actually don’t think I could physically take it.

Now, I know some woman get through a lot more of their pregnancy and lose their child or some that have multiple losses before they finally deliver a baby. However, I also know each one of these ladies is different. They have different upbringings, personal lives, medical histories, emotional capabilities and so much more variables that play into their ability to try again.

I don’t believe the subject of losing a pregnancy, at any time, should be a conversation we shy away from, especially us women. Its far more common than we think and happens far to often than we care to admit. Opening this conversation up, removing the stigma, having support services that are more readily talked about and offered in our hospitals, wow, what a difference that could make to the women who every day lose their hopes and dreams.

I’d like to think one day I’ll be able to try again, I think I might be getting close. I can finally talk about it without tears and I was able to write this……. So maybe I’m finally healing?

17^th April 2018 will be two years since I lost my baby, check back with me then and see how I’m doing…….

SA xx