It’s all over.
We went for the scan today and after an interminable wait (seeing one couple come out crying and another clutching a scan picture of a definite baby) we went and had the scan.
I could tell from the start that it didn’t look optimistic. I had the same sonographer as last time. She didn’t say much but she did say that she couldn’t see the flicker. Poor T was sitting outside the curtain. The doctor asked me as a starting point if I’d had any bleeding – I haven’t. So it started off pretty badly anyway. The sonographer dug around but nothing.
Pizza baby had vanished. His little heartbeat – the flicker I saw last week, the flicker T and I had seen the week before – was no more.
I felt strangely numb. I didn’t even cry. I feel like I’ve had all week to come to terms with it. (I probably shouldn’t confess this but I haven’t been to work for the past week as I couldn’t face it.) Poor T took it worse and was kind of leaking from his eyes a bit. I was sort of stoic and asking questions about next steps.
Next steps are we have an appointment at the “kindly named” Early Pregnancy Unit this afternoon. We had a good chat with my favourite nurse. She kept apologising. The doctor and the sonographer also apologised. I just thought, why are you apologising? It’s not your fault.
This was my first pregnancy.
This will be my first (known) miscarriage.
I now keep thinking of all my horrific, late periods. Maybe I’ve been pregnant before.
Why did our baby not make it? Apparently 1 in 4 don’t. I never really realised how late-feeling an “early miscarriage” is. I’ve been going through this process for 84 days. We’ve been going through it for longer emotionally.
We knew that statistically it didn’t look likely for us, with our one embryo and 15 years of infertility and associated problems. I didn’t even let myself hope until I saw nine positive pregnancy tests.
It happens. We are both kind of stoic about it and we talked about what we would do next. Lots of sex! Might as well enjoy stuff before the next cycle – realistically it’s 4-6 months away for a wait at our hospital. I am going to have a drink. I’m going to drink coffee. I’m going to take hayfever drugs.
We are going to book our tickets to Orlando this weekend.
We can get back to being a couple again and just have sex when we want to and go out drinking when we want to and not worry about stuff.
Dog is still my best baby-pet-best-friend.
I can have Pimms and rosé and I don’t have to avoid my friends any more.
I can drink and be carefree at the party this weekend. (I’ve been commissioned to provide the cake and it’s quite an ambitious one.)
I can confide in people if I want to without fear of jinxing anything.
I can take drugs (hayfever, painkillers) without fear of harming the baby.
Coffee. Every morning. Hello again Nespresso, my old friend.
I know that I can get pregnant. I never knew that before.
I still have the best, wonderful man who is in this with me.
My baby died.