Miscarriage.
A word that people tend to tiptoe around whenever they hear it. For me, it started on a Tuesday afternoon. It was my first ever scan at 12 weeks of pregnancy and I was all kinds of feelings. The first sign that things weren't all it should be was when the lady who was scanning me went all quiet when she first saw the sonogram. I remember looking at her and searching her face for any kind of news, but she was squinting hard at the picture in front of her, as if looking for a needle in a haystack. Eventually, we got our news.
The foetus was only measuring at 6 weeks along with no signs of heartbeat (as it was too small). Due to my long period cycle, me and Mr Husband was only expecting a 10 weeks gestation. The result of the scan was a blow to our earlier jovial excitement. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the moment.
We weren't given any confirmation regarding the progress of the pregnancy, so we were asked to come back for another scan in 2 weeks time. Mr Husband was devastated. On the drive back, he was already talking about making plans for the worst case scenario. I blanched at the thought, yet tried to keep a sense of optimism even if I felt like crying. I had only begun to come to terms with the pregnancy and to have it taken away from me like this was awful.
The house was quiet that night.
And on Wednesday, I started bleeding.
I tried to keep it to myself initially. Between the two of us, Mr Husband was the worst one off in taking the news. I didn't want to upset him any more than necessary. I was already making plans in my head to go see the midwife the next morning by myself. But by night time, the bleeding got worse and I started getting awful stomach cramps (which I found out later was actually contractions) that had me struggling for breath. This did not go by unnoticed by Mr Husband, so I had to finally confess to him the whole truth.
When he insisted that we go to A&E immediately, I finally broke down. There was no sense in keeping my optimism any longer. I was about to lose my pregnancy and it was devastating to come to terms with.
It's been a week now since then, and I am still being managed by the hospital for incomplete miscarriage. It's still a bitter pill to swallow and I don't think I've fully grieved the loss yet. I'm trying to keep my mind occupied so that I'd stop thinking about the loss. I've tried talking to a few friends about it and everyone tried to be understanding but I don't think they fully comprehend these feelings of loss. I mean... how do you grieve for something that never was? And yet it was there. The pregnancy was there with me for 3 months, and I had built my futures around it. And when it's not there any more, I feel lost. The one comfort that I take with me every night is that I still have Mr Husband, and for that I am always grateful.
