Jordan shares her story of experiencing a missed miscarriage during the coronavirus pandemic. If you're looking for more information about the impact of coronavirus on your care please have a look at the link at the bottom of this page.
I talked to my baby. I told them how sorry I was and how loved they are and will always be.
This was mine and my partner’s first baby. Unsurprisingly, we were excited and despite knowing that we should be cautious, we had planned an entire future for our little one. We fell pregnant in the March of 2020, shortly after lockdown was announced.
I spoke to my doctor and my midwife over the phone and eventually received confirmation of our twelve week scan. It was made very clear on the letter that my partner was not allowed to accompany me to the appointment. This upset me as I didn’t want him to miss what I thought was going to be a monumental moment.
On the morning of the scan I was very nervous, but I convinced myself it was a routine appointment and that by the end of day we would have told our parents and given them the beautiful cards I spent hours making for them, to make up for the fact that there would be no hugs or kisses allowed.
At the scan, I laid down and was quickly told that she needed to do an internal examination as she was struggling to get a clear picture. I laid for what felt like forever as she searched and I quickly realised that something was wrong. She withdrew and said, “I’m really sorry Jordan, but it seems that your baby doesn’t have a heartbeat.” In that moment I completely fell apart. She let me look at my baby and showed me a thermal image to see that there was warmth around the baby, but none in their heart and I think for a moment there was no warmth in mine either.
I had had a missed miscarriage. This means that there were absolutely no symptoms to suggest my baby had died. I still experienced pregnancy symptoms. My body didn’t know what had happened.
At that point I was given a letter with a number to call and a leaflet explaining my options. When she then asked if someone was waiting for me, I realised that I now had to return to the car park and tell my partner that his baby had died.
The evening that was meant to be celebratory was muted. We ate bad food and cried over what could have been. I felt ashamed and embarrassed and sorry. I thought that I probably deserved the pain, but Tim didn’t, and it wasn’t fair that he had to grieve because I couldn’t do the one thing I should be able to do. I also couldn’t come to terms with the fact that I was still carrying my baby.
The next day, when alone, I called the number. Due to the pandemic, I didn’t have the option of surgery and so I chose medical management. I then bought a tiny ornament of a child holding a hope balloon. I thought if we had something physical that we could keep forever, that I could hold and protect, I would feel better and I did.
Again, I had to go to the appointment alone. Tim waited in the car park and was, rightly, frustrated that he wasn’t able to support me. I was taken into a room where a nurse spoke to me about the procedure and the possible outcomes. It was explained that I may have to return and have the procedure again if it didn’t work.
Knowing that I would be upset and without my partner, we had written a few questions down. The most important being “when did my baby die?”.
She told me that they were around eight weeks old when their little heart stopped beating.
Once I had given my consent, two other nurses came and calmly administered the procedure. They placed four tablets inside my vagina. It was non-invasive and quick and afterwards I was given half an hour to lie down. In this time I talked to my baby. I told them how sorry I was and how loved they are and will always be.
Around four hours after the appointment I felt extreme cramping and sickness. I was given an anti-sickness tablet and codeine for the pain. I had bought underwear and large sanitary towels in preparation. I tried to breathe through the pain, which came in waves and then I felt a sudden gush of liquid. It was a pinkish and thin. I then began to bleed heavily, but the pain had stopped.
Around half an hour later, I felt pain again and after a short while I made my way to the bathroom. I passed clots and continued to bleed heavily. It was a strange sensation and was very upsetting for us both.
It is now the next day and although I know there is more to come, I don’t feel frightened anymore. We didn’t ‘lose’ a baby; our baby just wasn’t ready yet.