To start making sense of the title I should explain that I was pregnant. Not very, only six weeks, but I definitely was pregnant. And then, after a visit to A&E and two nights in hospital, I wasn't. In fact I had only been kind of pregnant for the preceding two weeks. During my hospital stay I was scanned and a 'pregnancy sac' and 'yolk sac' was found which is what you would to expect to see at four weeks, not six. I should have had a little bean, but I didn't.
Now I know that as a miscarriage goes, to have it happen so early is relatively non traumatic. But I am finding it quite difficult, and this has been surprising to me as I'm normally a pretty tough, unemotional, resilient soul. On analysis, which I am too good at, there are reasons for this that I will now endeavour to explain.
If you didn't already know I am 40 and I have one perfect son, my little Star who is 13 months old. Star did not come to us easily. We started trying to conceive when I was 36, immediately following our wedding (I know, old fashioned !) but when nothing was happening we had tests only to be told we were both perfectly formed in the reproductive department. By the time I was 38, still nothing, so we started down the 'assisted conception' route. Thankfully we were given three goes at IUI and on our last attempt...bingo! I stressed badly until the private eight week scan showed a heartbeat, I stressed badly until we were past the twelve week high risk period, I stressed badly until the downs syndrome scan and blood test the results of which almost destroyed me (our risk was 1:160) but I couldn't take the chance of an amnio induced miscarriage, so I stressed some more until the anomoly scan told us all was well.
Somehow I made it to the end and Star was born by elective c section which was fantastic, as was he. I always knew however that I didn't want Star to be an only child. As with all parents I'm sure, I have only ever wanted the very best for him. In my book one of the very best of life's good things is to have a sibling to share your childhood with. Someone to play with, someone to talk to, a companion. Someone to teach you how to get along with people...the most valuable of life's lessons. I felt so strongly about this that it was a condition of having Star...that we would have another. Of course, now that he's here I couldn't imagine not having him, but before he was conceived I would have preferred to remain childless than to have an only child.
So, just before Star's first birthday back to the clinic we went. Thankfully after some tests they agreed that I was still reproductively young enough to have another three goes at IUI before moving on to IVF (which I desperately don't want to have to do - far too invasive for a holistic person like me) and bingo once again, it worked. I was pregnant on our first attempt. My overwhelming reaction was one of relief. Thank goodness, a sibling for Star. Thank goodness, no more IUI treatments, Thanks goodness, no IVF. Thank goodness, I'm just 40...not 41, 42, 43, 44... And as, despite my stressing, my pregnancy with Star had passed, pretty much, without event and he was such a prefect outcome, I relaxed. I didn't worry. My body had done all this before and coped, dare I say even did a good job. So this time I would enjoy my pregnancy and not worry...
I did just this...until I was six weeks. I did it so well that I met the fate of my pregnancy with disbelief and shock. I couldn't believe it. Things like this don't happen to me. I'm healthy. I don't drink alcohol...ever. I don't smoke. I don't drink coffee. I eat organic food. I take supplements....I'm too old. It's not going to work for us this time. Poor Star. I've let him down. I've failed him. I've failed him. I've failed him...
My eyes are welling up just writing this but I can't seem to get it out of my head. I know it will take time but I haven't got time. We'll be back to the clinic in January to start it all again, and I must be in a calm, confident, positive frame of mind but I'm finding it so hard....
