Photo Credit: Molly Allen
I found out I was pregnant in November 2020. It was my first pregnancy and would be mine and my fiancé, Matt’s, first baby together.
We were absolutely thrilled and so were our family and friends. We told everyone on New Year’s Eve.
On January 2, 2021, I started spotting, and doctors and midwives told me it was nothing to worry about. But it got heavier and more painful during the course of the week. I was continuously told not to worry.
On Saturday, January 9, I woke up in the night and had blood on my pad (which was different than before, when I’d see it only upon wiping.) This worried me. My fiancé called non-emergency medics and they said to go to hospital ASAP.
We got there around 5 a.m. and waited for about three hours to be seen. Blood tests were done and several hours later we were told the results were fine. No scans are done on the weekend, so we went home to rest.
On Sunday, January 10, I was feeling really anxious. We went grocery shopping, but after putting it away I wanted to take a nap. I couldn’t sleep though, as I was feeling strong cramps. Within minutes, I was crawling around, screaming and crying in agony.
My dad called for an ambulance, but was told it “was not an emergency.”
The pain continued for about four hours, and then I felt a rush and a popping sensation. I went to the bathroom and all I saw was a soaked-through pad and blood streaming down my legs.
I proceeded to have a bath in an effort to calm the cramps. I spoke to my parents, and they along with my fiancé, convinced me to go back to the hospital.
At 6:30 p.m. we arrived at the hospital. Not long after, we were told that it would be quicker to drive to a different hospital that was about forty minutes away, as they would be able to provide the treatment I needed. By this point had bled through six large incontinence pads. I wanted to sleep and everyone was worried about how much blood I was losing.
At 8 p.m. we arrived at the second hospital. We stood in the doorway waiting for a COVID test and my fiancé’s decision to stay with me was constantly questioned.
We were still waiting at 10:45. A woman heard Matt begging me to keep my eyes open and she came over to see if we’d been seen by anyone yet. He explained to her what was happening.
When I was moved into and A & E bed at 11:30, Matt was told to leave and I had a panic attack. A nurse advocated for Matt to be allowed to come down to the ward with me, but he ended up having to wait in the corridor.
At midnight, I was transferred to the maternity ward. I was given drip after drip of fluids to get my strength back and to help my body recover from the amount of blood I’d lost.
The doctor finally came to talk with me at 1:30 a.m. and confirmed I was miscarrying. She checked me and believed my cervix had closed up, meaning the majority of the blood had come out. She wanted me to come back for a scan, which she booked for two days later. We went home at about 2:30 a.m.
On the morning of Tuesday, January 12, a scan confirmed I was having a miscarriage. Matt and I waited in the maternity ward corridor for about two hours. At about 11:30 a.m. I was taken back to talk with a doctor who said I needed medical management for the miscarriage.
I was told I would take some tablets and was then instructed to go into another room to take everything off from my waist down. I was confused and questioned this, and they informed me the tablets would be inserted into my vagina (this had not been made clear!)
After the tablets were inserted, I had to lie down for thirty minutes. I requested that someone tell Matt what was happening, but later found out he hadn’t been informed.
We left the hospital at about 12:15 p.m. We walked past lots of babies and pregnant women. I was given a high dosage of codeine to help with the pain. I had a weird reaction and was all over the place. I had to have help doing basic tasks (e.g. going to toilet, getting dressed, sitting/standing up etc.), which continued for about a week. Not once have I had any sort of support mentally or physically from anyone apart from my close family and friends.
I complained and so did my fiancé, but our complaints were brushed off because of COVID. But I don’t think COVID eliminates a person’s ability to be compassionate and caring.
We lost our baby, but were treated like we didn’t matter; like our baby didn’t matter.
It was the most horrific period of my life and I wish nobody else ever had to go through what we did. But I know that’s impossible.
Thank you @molly_julie_allen for sharing your story. Shared with permission.
Coping with the heartache of miscarriage can feel lonely. I Had a Miscarriage is a powerful companion for those who have experienced loss, with insight from both a personal and psychological perspective.
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