Kory shares her story and describes her feelings after experiencing a molar pregnancy.
I felt isolated, like I didn’t have a right to be sad because it was never a baby. But I’d formed an unimaginable bond with an idea.
There is no way to explain the feeling when you see the second line appear on your pregnancy test! We were prepared for it to take a while as my cycles were irregular, but after 7 months and 4 cycles, we found out we were expecting.
I started blotting at around 9 weeks and everything online indicated it was common and not to worry. Equally I didn’t want to be one of those ‘paranoid first-time mums’.
We were so excited on the day of our first scan. One of the machines broke so after 1.5 hours, it was finally our turn. But as the image came on the screen, there was no sign of a baby and my world shattered around me. I had an internal scan to be sure, and the result was the same.
In the side room we were advised of a cluster of cysts or clots which indicated a partial molar pregnancy. They said it was likely we’d lost our baby but it could also be too early due to my irregular cycles.
We were taken to EPAU for another scan, we were told the same thing. We were booked for a rescan in a week’s time. This was the longest week of our lives and the emotions we felt were indescribable.
At the rescan we were told our pregnancy wasn’t viable and I had an ‘evacuation’ 2 days later. It was confirmed that I’d had a complete molar pregnancy. A few days later I was back in hospital with an infection from the procedure.
I really struggled emotionally. I felt that to ‘get over it’, you stop thinking about it, so I buried my head in the sand and became quite temperamental in mood.
The emotions are both overwhelming and unreasonable. I felt isolated, like I didn’t have a right to be sad because it was never a baby. But I’d formed an unimaginable bond with an idea.
We’re now under the care of Charing Cross hospital. A complete molar pregnancy is a rare condition where the placenta grows into a benign tumour. This was removed during the evacuation but carries its own risks.
Remaining cells can turn cancerous and need chemotherapy. Not only are we still dealing with our loss, we have the ‘C word’ lingering over our heads – albeit only at a 14% chance and an almost 100% cure rate.
I now have bi-weekly tests to monitor my levels with the hope to be discharged in 6 months’ time, or we’ll be with them for a further 6 months. For anyone else going through anything similar, this next part really helped me.
Someone told me that the fear of the word ‘cancer’ is sometimes worse than the reality, which it most certainly is in my case. So I’ve renamed it ‘Dave’, because in the worst case scenario for me, it’s not as scary as the word.
I turned to the Miscarriage Association who supported me when I needed it most. They’ve helped in ways I can’t explain and I’ve started to process things in a healthy way. I’m not a talker, but sharing my experience is something I feel strongly about as not many people have heard of this condition before.