Mentioning the unmentionable…

… Miscarriage. It’s not something we talk about often is it? Or hear about, dispite the fact that 1 in 4 of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. We have talked before about people admitting they are trying and why you may or may not keep that to yourselves. Miscarriage is the inevitable fear of early pregnancy. Tell people early on and you may have to break bad news later at a time when you feel most vulnerable. Keep it quiet and you have to shoulder the sorrow alone. It’s a catch 22 situation.

Before you all leap to conclusions, this post was sent into me by a reader who wishes to remain anonymous but wanted the support of the Florence Finds community in this time of isolation. It’s a huge compliment to you all that she felt she could find comfort here. Although I have never been in the same situation, it’s certainly something I have seen through family and work and I know how much heartache it causes. I know amongst many of you there will be women who can identify and offer support and I know our anonymous contributor will be grateful for your advice.


image credit: mindful mum

That little blue line.

The overwhelming excitement, fear and happiness floods my body all at once. This is something we’ve been wanting for some time. Working towards, never really knowing when or if it would happen, trying not to make a big deal of it each month when it didn’t happen. And now it was here, it was real. It’s so strange the emotions and thoughts you have… is it really happening? Can we be sure? Let’s do another test. Yep it’s really happening. Let’s see the doctor and get them to confirm. THIS IS REALLY HAPPENING!

The days that followed those tests went by in a blur of pure elation. The closeness we felt to each other was like nothing I’d experienced before, like we were now truly one, totally in sync and blissfully happy at what our future was to hold.

We reminded ourselves it was early, that the rules tell us not to get too excited, to wait to tell anyone until we’ve seen that little scan that tells us this is real, this IS really happening.

It felt nice to have this little secret to ourselves; at the same time it felt painful to not be able to share our good news, to shout it from the rooftops like we wanted to. We’ve had a lot of bad news recently, times of upset and despair for both our families. This is what I was looking forward to the most, delivering the most amazing news ever to our unsuspecting family. We grew more and more excited, chatting into the small hours about how life was going to drastically change, how we thought we’d cope, how we’d tell our families, how we’d tell his little girl and help her to understand what it meant, ensuring she felt loved and cared for, not left out and overlooked for something and someone new. We worked out dates, marked them up in code on our calendars, figured out how we’d get through the forthcoming social events in the diary without giving the game away, and we gave our growing child a nickname that only we would understand. We watched my belly begin to grow, filled the fridge with super-healthy foods and waited for the sickness to begin, knowing we were doing everything we could to ensure a healthy, happy pregnancy for both of us.

Blood.

It’s a scary sight at the best of times, but when it’s not supposed to be there it’s the most frightening sight of all. Just spotting at first, we chat it through, we google the hell out of it and convince ourselves, it’s normal, it’s implantation bleeding, it’s getting settled in.

Red blood.

It’s not normal. This should not be happening.


image credit: universal blueprint

I think I knew the second I saw it, it’s hard to explain really, call it instinct, call it intuition, call it what you want. I wish I didn’t have it, I wish I hadn’t known in that very second that my baby had died. That my baby who hadn’t even formed properly yet had already left this world. Of course, you hope you are wrong but deep down you know. We call the doctors, it’s a Saturday and we get little support, we’re told to ride it out and if it gets worse go to A&E. More googling, I find an early pregnancy unit nearby and call them. The advice is clear, sensible and compassionate without being patronising. Bleeding can be normal, it doesn’t necessarily mean there is something wrong but get some sanitary pads, monitor the blood for clots and if they start then call them back and we take it from there. A pensive few hours pass, thoughts swim around our heads like sharks waiting to eat us alive. We convince ourselves it could be okay, the voice inside me screams it’s not okay, its over.

Blood clots. This is really happening.

And then the tears flow, my body convulses as I fall into my partners arms and sob and sob. We call the unit, they tell us to go down there. Hours later and the feelings of loss are replaced by confusion, I’ve had my urine tested, twice, the results are negative. We’re told this is common and doesn’t really mean anything. They take blood to test my hormone levels, the results will take 24 hours. They do an internal examination, my cervix is closed. They tell me this means I haven’t miscarried and that I am pregnant. But they need to do a scan to know for sure what is happening. It’s all so terrifying and so confusing. Deep down I still know, I no longer feel pregnant, it’s hard to explain this feeling, I guess you do just know.

They can’t scan until the morning as the sonographer has gone home. We have a long and sleepless night, another round of convincing ourselves things could be okay, but inside I know it’s over. I feel calm, I know what’s coming, I know this is just clarification.

We arrive for the scan, we stare at the screen, we hear the sonographer say the words ‘early miscarriage, normal, nothing you have done, try again’. They float around the air like daggers waiting to sink deep into our hearts, remaining there forever. I don’t cry, I had already played this scene out in my head, I was expecting it, I already knew.

But as we begin to drive home, the tears start to flow once again, the uncontrollable sobs, the convulsing body. It’s all so alien to me, I am the together one, I am the strong one, I’m the one who reasons everything, supports everyone else through their troubles and traumas. What do I know!


image credit: saying goodbye

The feeling of emptiness is overwhelming.

Mourning the loss of something that never was is a strange concept to wrap your head around. It’s not like losing someone you know, someone who has lived a life. That’s a concept I understand and as painful as it is, it’s a natural process and one we feel equipped to deal with. This, it feels different. It’s mourning for the what could have been, grieving for the lives we thought we were going to have, for the life we had pictured, imagined and wanted so badly. It’s bewildering and the pain is physical, not the pain of the miscarriage, the pain of loss.

And what was our beautiful little secret that only the two of us shared has now become our never-ending nightmare that we cannot escape from. No-one knows, our family are unaware and we’ve decided not to share the grief with them as they’ve had enough to deal with recently. Work don’t know, I’ve managed to juggle some annual leave days around to take a week off with a little explanation provided that I have some women’s problems to deal with. Our friends don’t know, it’s just us and the medical team who know.

The thought of ploughing on, of getting back to normal, of pretending like nothing is wrong makes my heart ache. I feel ill-equipped and incapable right now of putting on that brave face and getting through it. So I’m hoping that time really does heal and this week will give me what I need to wrap my head around this situation. That it will be just enough time to find that strength I know I have somewhere deep inside to put on the smile and carry on, despite my silent tears.

Please remember readers, if you would like to leave a comment anonymously, your gravatar is associated with your email address, not your name, so please use a fake email and pseudonym or simply ‘anon’.

My heart goes out to our writer today and any of you who have been through similar pregnancy related traumas.

Love,
Rebecca
xo

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46 thoughts on “Mentioning the unmentionable…

  1. Oh this is heartbreaking. What a terrible experience to go through alone. Please take care of yourself. This is huge. This is grief but like you said of a very different kind. Grief is still grief though. Give yourselves both time, space and care. If you can’t speak to family and friends could you have grief counselling? Or just counselling? As you are both experiencing this loss and supporting each other it could help to have some outside support to help when neither of you are up to supporting each other.

    This is a horrible thing to experience, I wish you all the very best as you navigate through this and hope you find support both here and elsewhere at such a difficult time.

    Xxxx

    • Thank-you Siobhan, it has been quite soothing to write about this experience and hear others words of support.

      Counselling is something we may consider, at the moment we’re just taking it day by day and helping each other through by talking.

      Thank-you for the kind words. xx

  2. Devastating. The only words I can offer are to be kind to yourself. Thank you for sharing your story, it is something we don’t often share, but hopefully this helps in the grieving and healing process. I am thinking of you both.

    • Thank-you Anon, being kind to ourselves is something that’s often overlooked as we continue on the hamster wheel. It’s something I have forced myself to do this week and can hand on heart say it’s been the best thing for me. xx

  3. My heart goes out to you. I went through this four times and it’s a terrible thing. The sadness, the grief, the worry that there’s something wrong with you. People say it’s a common thing and while that is true, it doesn’t stop it hurting and it doesn’t stop the terrible nagging feeling there’s something wrong with you. Some people, even medical professionals, are dismissive of early miscarriage and that hurts. As soon as you see that line, you know a life is trying to start and when you learn it failed it’s awful. Having said all that I can tell you that, I am currently 36 weeks pregnant and although it’s not been easy it goes to show there is hope. Good luck with the future and I hope that in the not too distant future you find yourself with a beautiful child in your arms x

    • Thank-you Li, That must have been a really difficult time for you and I imagine just as painful each time. All sorts of thoughts do whir through my mind and I’m wondering now what I can do to help the process, but everything I read is so contradictory or lacking in any solid evidence. Stories of hope like yours are great to hear and read, and I would rather focus on these than the negative ones.

      Wishing you all the luck in the world for when your baby arrives. xxxx

      • The thing to focus on is that you are fertile. You can concieve. When we were trying and going through the multiple early losses I joined a Facebook trying to concieve group and there were ladies on there who had been trying for 2 years without a hint of success. I didn’t know what was worse to get so close and then gave it snatched away or to fail month after month. It was good to have people to chat to who shared the same burden so you might find some solace there. As far trying to help the process the chances are you will fall quickly again and be successful without you doing anything differently.
        I wish you all the luck in the world x

  4. I’m a regular reader of FF, but don’t usually comment. Today, I feel I have to.

    I am so sorry to hear what you are going through. Having been there myself, I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

    I am now 5 months post miscarriage and want you to know that it does get easier. There are 2 things which have helped me: the first is time and the second a change of scene. Following the miscarriage, I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to feel, and as you say, grief for something you didn’t have yet is a challenging concept. It has surprised me how much time I have needed to process what has happened, I found it incredibly difficult to get back to ‘normal’. After 3 months, my husband and I had a long holiday together – getting that space and time together, along with a change of scene from normal life really helped to put things back in perspective.

    We have told a few close people. Usually people will tell you how common miscarriage is (which it is), how it’s a ‘good’ sign that you’re able to conceive and that you’ll be pregnant again before you know it. While all of this may be true, I didn’t find it helpful, in fact what I needed was to allow myself to grieve. This is a huge thing you’re going through, so don’t be hard on yourself for feeling the way you do.

    While I am not yet pregnant again, 5 months on, I am doing much better. I feel things are in perspective for me and I am stronger. I am still very sad about what happened, but it is not as all-consuming. I feel optimistic again.

    I hope that you and your partner are able to work through what has happened together. You are not alone. I wish you all the best and hope that you, too, are able to feel optimistic again soon. XX

    • Thank-you Anon for taking the time to comment, it really does mean a lot to hear everyone’s stories and words of encouragement as it has felt very isolating up to now.

      I’m so sorry for your loss and agree that time and space are great healers.

      We’re discussing how we can build some of that into our lives over the next few months to help us through and to focus on the things that really matter. Sure work is important but it’s all too easy to get consumed by the day-to-day. One thing this whole situation has made us realise is just how close and strong we are as a couple and how terribly important it is to create moments and memories filled with joy and happiness to counteract these inevitable times of challenge.

      Glad to hear you’re feeling stronger and more optimistic and I hope you get the outcome you want in the future. xxx

  5. I’ve been mulling over what to say but am struggling so I will mainly say I am very, very sorry for your loss. It is a loss, a different kind from a ‘traditional bereavement’ (if there is such a thing), but a loss that you should take time to grieve for and come to terms with none the less. Take all the time you need.

    People often say ‘It’s very common’ but it doesn’t make it any less painful. Wishing you a speedy physical recovery, a gently emotional one and so much luck for the future xxx

    • Thank-you Fee. Just the acknowledgement alone, even if it is from strangers, stops this experience feeling so dreadfully lonely. Thank-you for the kind words. xxx

  6. Firstly I am so sorry for your loss. Whether a miscarriage is early or late, you have stil had your hopes and dreams for you and your family shattered.

    I read your post and could relate to so much of what you said, the excitement at getting a line, the dreams and hopes, the secret that you share between the two of you, then sadly the dream being shattered.

    It does get easier over time, it’s a huge cliche, but time is a great healer. I went mad when people said that to me at the start, but it’s true.

    I had a missed miscarriage first time around, we went for the 12 week scan full of excitement only to discover our baby had stopped growing some weeks earlier. I then more recently lost a baby at 18 weeks. Both heartbreaking and hopefully not something that we’ll experience again.

    Take care of yourself.

    • Hi Emma,

      I’m so sorry to hear about your experiences but thank-you for sharing them here. One thing this has highlighted to me is just how many people go through such heartbreak and how little is known about them.

      I hope you’re recovering well and feeling positive about the future. xxx

  7. One of the hardest things about early miscarriage is that you almost feel like a fraud for grieving, for feeling sad about something you never really had. But in your mind you have had this little baby, you’ve created it, nurtured it, mentally brought it in to this world, you’ve probably even thought about names and naturally to have this taken away is just devastating. Take time to grieve now and don’t feel guilty for doing so, there will be plenty of time for you to move on when you feel stronger and with that you will feel much more positive about going forward.

    I know it doesn’t necessarily help when people say you are not the first and of course won’t be the last but it is comforting to know that women every day get through it, come out the other side and go on to have uneventful pregnancies and healthy babies. The internet might not lead you to think so but there are thousands of success stories and I am sure you will eventually be one of them, don’t lose hope.

    Much love,
    x

    • Hi Vicky,

      Yes exactly that, this is my first experience of ‘having children’, I don’t have other children and so the whole process of getting pregnant, finding out and then coming to terms with it was quite a shock to the system anyway, even though we had been trying. I’ve had 34 years to just be me, without any thought about the things I do and the choices I make and whether they will affect someone else. To suddenly have to break out of this world into another where there IS something to think about took a massive adjustment and I had to mentally prepare myself for this being my life from now on, not just whilst I was pregnant. I guess that’s what feels so cruel, just as you begin to accept the changes that pregnancy will bring to your body, your life, and beyond, it’s taken away.

      You are right through I have found a lot of comfort in hearing others stories, as heartbreaking as some of them are having had to go through multiple miscarriages until they finally had a successful pregnancy I know hand on heart I would rather keep trying. Even if it means more pain and trauma.

      Thanks for your words of encouragement. xxx

  8. I’m so sorry Anon. At the moment things feel awful but time is a great healer, a cliche but still true nonetheless. Wishing you all the luck in the world for the future.
    xxx

  9. Such a true and heartfelt post.
    Close to my heart, too, as at 11 weeks back in April, on the evening of my father in laws wedding, I noticed the tiny spot of blood.
    Fast forward to scan 5 days later and my baby had died 5 weeks previously, and I’d had no idea.
    A natural miscarriage followed a few days later, then trying to rebuild our lives. 7 cycles later and still no blue line, it gets harder every month.
    I’m now 2 weeks from what would’ve been my due date and 3 days from my 30th birthday, which I have no inclination to celebrate because I’d resigned myself to a sober one.
    One of my closest friends has also just had a carbon copy experience to mine.
    It gets easier, but it’s still harder than anything I’ve ever been through. I’m dreading the announcement at work from the guy at work who’s wife was due the same day as me.
    My advice for the writer is to talk. To your partner, to your friends, your family, as I bottled it up for the first couple of months and it was like silent hell, painting a happy smile when I felt like I was dying inside. X

    • Hi Rachel, I’m so sorry to hear about your loss too. It is those milestone moments I am most fearful of and can totally understand your pain. It seems so cruel and wrong.

      Just by writing about it and sharing the details here with the FF community has really helped me, as is taking the time off to just rest and heal (something I never give myself time for in life anyway). I haven’t yet spoken to any friends or family about it, I will be speaking to one close friend but waiting to see her in person next week to tell her when I’m hopefully feeling a little stronger.

      My partner is incredibly supportive but I fear he has gone into male protection mode, more concerned about caring for me than for himself and I know he is finding it much harder than I am emotionally to come to terms with what’s happened. My advice to him has been to choose a close friend to talk to as it really does make such a difference that people just know.

      Obviously we don’t want to tell everyone, work particularly as I don’t want to be viewed as a ‘pregnant-woman-in-waiting’ as there is so much stigma attached to that within the workplace already. But I think by having a few close allies who understand the “I’m fine” statements actually mean “I’m really not fucking fine” will help us through it.

      Take care of yourself too and thans for sharing your story. xxx

  10. Oh my heart aches for you. I can’t offer any words of wisdom although I wish I could. I can send a virtual hug and hope the age old adage time heals is true. Thinking of you annoymous.
    X

  11. Thank you so much for writing this and for Rebecca for posting. What always surprises me when women do actually talk about things like miscarriage is how many people do go through it, but don’t talk about it. You’ll hear things like “oh yes, I had 3 miscarriages before I had my first. It was awful.” And yet we couldn’t help because we didn’t know. I say that not to diminish what you’re going through, but to praise you for sharing your story.

    I can’t imagine what you’re going through. When I had my 20 week scan and was told that our baby could have a lif-threatening condition, it was the worst moment of my life. I’m so sorry you had to suffer this.

    • Thank-you Esme for commenting. I’ve just popped over to your blog to read your story and hope Freddie is doing well. It must have been a really frightening time for you both at the 20-week scan and after he was born.

      I suppose there is some comfort in knowing something can be done and that he is being cared for medically, but I know it doesn’t take away the fear you must feel at every appointment.

      Thanks for the comments and for sharing your own story. xxx

  12. I’ve been thinking about the best thing I can say to you, I’m so very sorry for your loss, I understand it must be truly heartbreaking for both of you. I wish you a speedy physical recovery and whilst emotionally, the healing process will take longer, I wish you all the strength, love and hope in the world. Wishing you so much luck for the future and thinking of you x

    • Thanks Angela, the comments really do mean a lot. It’s like I have 20 strong women standing behind me, pushing me forward. xxx

  13. To the writer, I am incredibly sorry for your loss. This must be an extremely difficult time for you and I can only imagine what you are going through. I have experienced bleeding too and the way you explained your feelings brings the emotions all back to me.

    It sounds like you and your partner have a strong bond and you will both support each other through this difficult time. Things will get easier as the other posters have said. You may already be aware of the support groups / forums available on mumsnet / baby centre where you can chat to other women who have gone through the same thing. I find these sites invaluable when maybe you don’t know who else to talk to.

    Thank you for sharing your heartbreaking story – I agree, women do not discuss this enough.

    Take care of yourself!

    Sx

    • Thanks Sarah, I haven’t yet joined any support groups or forums but I have read plenty of stories. I guess when it first happened I just wanted to know I wasn’t alone and to see what others had been through.

      It has helped to make it all seem real and less isolating. Thanks for your comments. xxx

  14. I am so sorry for your loss, so sorry it happened to you. -Take all the time you need to grieve, and let yourself feel whatever you need to feel. Maybe find someone to talk to, or write about it, whether it is friends, family, or anonymously (like this) but don’t let the pain inside.
    Thanks for sharing your story, this needs to be talked about, so we can be there for each other and feel less isolated.
    I hope you will heal soon, physically and emotionally. Hugs.

    • Thanks Amanda, the words of encouragement mean so much and as I’ve said above are really helping me to heal and make sense of it all. xxx

  15. I too feel so awful and helpless after reading this
    Post, I wish I could do something to help you
    Anon. Maybe a hug or just to talk is sometimes a
    Little help,
    I thank you too for sharing this post with ff we
    The ff family of readers and Rebecca, are here
    For you and will try and support you through this
    Hard time for you….
    I hope that you will get the wish of being a fab mummy
    And for that I send you lots of hugs and wishes
    That soon it’ll come true!
    Once again Thank you for sharing, as this is a very
    Hard subject and I agree it should be spoken about
    And the fact that your little baby will still live on
    In yours and our memories he or she will remain
    Your little angel forever;-)
    With lots of love to you anon,

    Amanda x

    • Thank-you Amanda K for the support and words of encouragement. I too hope one day I will be a fab mummy and that I can come full circle to share my follow-up birth story here on FF. I remain hopeful and positive for the future. xxx

  16. I have just sat and read your post with tears streaming down my cheeks. I am so sorry for your loss, I know how much it hurts and I would not wish it on anyone.
    I don’t have any magic words or advice that will make it easier, I will just say to give yourself time and don’t be too hard on yourself.
    It does get easier with time, it may not feel like it yet, it may not feel like it next week or even the week after. But one day you will get to the end of the day and realise you haven’t cried today, or that you felt a little bit like ‘youself’ again. And slowly those days will get a little more frequent.
    I hope that you have found some comfort in everyones words, sending you strength and love, Georgie xxx

  17. I’m not commenting to our anonymous poster – my words of support have obviously gone direct to her, but I wanted to thank the FF readers for the words of encouragement, support, condolence and advice. We don’t usually post on subjects like this, but nonetheless I felt it was relevant to all of us and I knew you guys would come through with the right thing to say.

    x

  18. I am so so sorry that you and your partner are having to go through this. I don’t have any advice but just want you to know that I am thinking of you. My friend went through something similar and I always remember her saying that she felt like she was mourning for the life that could of been as in her head her baby had went to school, got a job, fell in love and was happy. It totally broke my heart but helped me to understand what she was going through a little better.

    Make sure you and your partner talk through your feeling and just be there for each other. Be kind to yourself and allow yourself to grieve.

    x

  19. I am so sorry for your loss. I don’t have any wise words of advice, but just wanted to send you love and support. I hope that by writing this and reading all these comments you have gained some strength that may help you get through this xx

  20. I agree with all the sentiments that have gone before – this is a really heartbreaking story and Anon, I wish you all the strength and love in the world as you carry on and learn to live with your loss. I think that part of the problem, as Rebecca has said in the past, is that for very valid reasons most women keep pregnancies in early stages a secret, but then when it ends like this, it’s desperately hard, especially if you’ve not told friends or family or even people at work (and then you have to explain time off etc etc) Thank you for opening up to the FF community xx

  21. Dear Anon, just wanted to say I am so sorry for your loss and thank you for sharing your story. Sending you and your partner lots of love. Xxxxxxxxx

  22. I’m in tears reading this as I think the exact same thing is happening to me as I type. Trying to distract myself I clicked on your blog and it was almost like a sign and I too feel as if I just know. I am due for a scan in a few days but instinct tells me something isn’t right. I almost felt like I was reading from my own diary.

    I am so sorry for your loss and hope this week is what you need to cope before facing the world. Xxx

  23. I don’t really have anything different to add, but I just wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss. I have often wondered what we would do if we found out we were pregnant and whether we would tell people straight away or not, and it seems there is no right answer. I really hope you and your partner get the time to work through your feelings, and get the support you need, as I’m sure whichever friends (or even family) you choose to speak to about this would be keen to help you both through this.

  24. Dear Anon, I’m so sorry for your loss. I haven’t been through it personally, but I have watched my best friend deal with two early miscarriages.
    I don’t have anything to add, that the ladies above haven’t already said. I just wanted to say that there is hope and although things seem dark right now, it will get better. My friend was told she would probably never carry a baby to full term, she resigned herself to the idea she might never have children. She now has a two year old and a 6 month old.
    I wish you all the strength and love in the world, and hope that in the not too distant future, you get a wonderful happy ending.
    Take care. X

  25. I am so sorry for your loss and want to thank you for your bravery at writing to tell your story.

    I don’t know if it helps but we suffered three miscarriages before having a successful pregnancy and now have a three week old.
    We had tests and they all came back fine the drs just told us to keep trying “at least you can get pregnant”.

    It is heart breakin each time, it doesn’t matter how long you ‘knew’ your little one, days, weeks or months they are still a loss and not everyone understands that. Particularly if they’ve never been through anything similar.

    I’m pleased you are confiding in a friend it is important for both you and your partner to feel you can talk to someone if you need to. But as you mention I’d be aware of who you tell as like you say you will now forever be on ‘pregnancy watch’.

    Having said that,
    I had friends who were sad I hadn’t confided in them as they wanted to support each time it happened.

    Rest lots anon, lean on your partner and let him lean on you. This will only make you stronger and when you do have your little one they will be all the more precious for the experience.

    Sending you a ton of hope, love, strength and understanding.x

  26. Dear Anon, I am so sorry to hear what you’ve been going through, your words really rang a bell with me as I am 6 months on from exactly what you went through.

    I thankfully already have a healthy and lively 2 year old (which has what has helped keep me focused since the miscarriage) but really want a sister or brother for her and was so excited to finally be pregnant again after trying for some time. With our first it happened almost immediately but this time round it took nearly a year, so from one moment being so happy to find out we were finally expecting and within a couple of days starting to miscarry was pretty horrendous. It really is that excitement of ‘what might be’ and to have that taken away from you is incredibly difficult. I also bled with my first pregnancy within 6 weeks and went to full term so I hoped and prayed that it was something similar but deep down I knew that it wasn’t the same.

    I’m sorry that you both feel that you have had to keep it to yourselves as I truly believe that it helps to share these things but you clearly are looking after each other which is the most important thing. I confided in both our mums (we told them as soon as we were pregnant so obviously had to tell them what happened) and a few close friends which has really helped.

    Within this year I have found out that 4 of my friends have miscarried too, 3 of whom told me straight away and 1 who never told me until I told her about my miscarriage which I found odd as I always thought we were close that she would confide in me with something like this, she has since had a very happy healthy boy over a year ago but I guess everyone deals with this in their own way. It is strange how many of us go through this yet it is hardly ever spoken about.
    I really hope that you both can help each other come through this and I know it’s a cliche but time is a healer and hopefully when the time is right for you both, you can try again. Thank you for sharing your story, big hugs to you xxx

  27. Dear Anon, I’m so sorry for your loss.

    I too am also going through a vaguely similar experience. Last Friday I went into hospital to have a medical termination for my much wanted baby who had Trisomy 13. Given the grave outcomes of this chromosomal disorder my husband and I felt this was the only choice we could make for our child. This knowledge hasn’t made the decision any less distressing for us, and the emptiness that is left is very tangible. The planned decision did however allow us time to say goodbye to our baby and tell it how very much it is loved and in our hearts. We also had time to consider how we would cope with the grief once the baby was gone. For example neither of us are ready to speak to our close friends yet , but we have emailed them the news so that when the time comes and we are ready to talk they will be there. The hardest part of this journey is working through the grief and allowing time to pass.

    Know that at some point the light at the end of the tunnel will start to become clearer, and hold onto the love that you share with your husband and close ones. Thank you for sharing your story, my thoughts are with you this morning. X

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