Photo Credit: Heather Lally
I don’t really know how to start this.
I personally find it so much easier talking about my experience whereas I know others would tend to shy away and not talk.
On November 12, 2020, I lost our little boy Conner at seventeen weeks and five days pregnant.
He was born at 4:23 a.m. and weighed a tiny 126 grams.
I had such a great pregnancy, with little sickness. I was sick for about a week after I found out I was pregnant, but that was probably shock as I always thought I’d not be able to get pregnant (just a fear of mine).
But I came off birth control in February 2020 and fell pregnant by July. So it was really quick!
We had never been so excited for something before. I couldn’t wait until my twelve week scan so we could see Peanut.
A few days after my scan I started to bleed heavily which gave us such a fright, but everything was fine.
We got a reassurance scan and then another scan at sixteen weeks, at which time Peanut wouldn’t stay still.
I didn’t feel well on my way to work. It’s fortunate that I was in a maternity unit. I wanted to know why I didn’t feel well. It turned out I had a urinary tract infection, so I was put on antibiotics and sent home to rest.
The next morning I woke up and had lots of yucky discharge. I called Maternity Assessment and they told me to come back in as I was having lots of tightening in my tummy.
When I got to the hospital, I was told my womb was spasming due to the infection. They wanted to admit me to make sure both me and baby were okay. My cervix was closed and nothing was happening.
I kept getting the pain, and as I think back, it was timed. They gave me pain medication. The pain got unbearable at 2:30 a.m. and I asked the midwife what the best thing to do was. I couldn’t sleep with the pain.
They ran a bath for me and when I got out there was something in the bathtub. I frantically ran to get a midwife who told me to get dressed and get back in bed.
Within four minutes there were doctors and anesthesiologists around me. The doctor wanted to check me. I was three centimeters dilated and the baby was coming.
I didn’t know what to do. My boyfriend was 20 miles away from the hospital. I was being taken to the Labour Ward and I was panicking!
He managed to get to the hospital, but it was too late. By the time he got there, I had the baby (but didn’t want to look at him until my boyfriend and I could do it together.)
My placenta wouldn’t come away, and I was losing lots of blood. The doctors were worried about me.
When I was stable and comfortable, I decided it was time to meet our boy.
He was perfect. Tiny! But absolutely perfect.
My due date would have been April 17, 2021. I’m emotionally all over the place.
But these things happen, and nothing can change it.
I believe we will get out happy ending. I won’t stop until we have out little army of babies.
I feel that women should talk about their losses more. When I mention I was pregnant to someone, and that I experienced a loss, it gets awkward and they change the subject.
Yes, I was pregnant. Yes, I lost my baby. Yes, I’m talking about it and acknowledging it.
Skimming past it makes me feel ashamed, but I shouldn’t feel that way.
Thank you @lally__x for sharing your story. Shared with permission.
Coping with the grief of pregnancy loss can feel impossible and isolating. Surviving the Unimaginable is a guide to surviving loss, told through the voices of loss parents with the help of a clinical psychologist.
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