Natalie shares her story of finding out she was pregnant and then miscarrying in the space of 48 hours.
There’s nothing that can prepare you for entering the club that nobody wants to be in.
I had a miscarriage.
That’s a phrase I hoped I would never have to say.
I know that I will find it difficult to put my experience and my emotions into words, so please forgive me. It’s so very hard to structure my thoughts at the minute, as everything is so jumbled and disconnected in my head. I shall try my best.
I have been, and still am, in two minds on whether to share my story. I fear that this will be misread by some as a pity party, or a cry for attention, and I would be very hurt for people to wrongly assume this. A problem shared, is a problem halved. I’ve never been very good at conveying my emotions through verbal communication, and so instead, writing is my escape, and my way of articulating my thoughts and feelings. I feel as though I need to do this for me.
A couple of weeks ago, I found out that I was pregnant. I am extremely lucky to be in a very loving, supportive, and committed relationship, but it was most definitely a shock for the both of us. To say that the pregnancy was planned, would be false. As I am already showing vulnerability, I may as well bare my soul…
I’ve always known that I wanted to be a Mum – even from when I was very young. It’s been the one aspiration which has remained constant throughout my life. That being said, I have big personal goals and aspirations that I want to achieve before I feel I can offer my everything into a little human that relies on me. And it is because of this, that I don’t believe it would be fair to bring a child into the world, knowing that I’m not able to give it my 100%. I have always said that if I was to ever get pregnant unexpectedly, I would terminate it. Taking numerous tests, and them showing positive, terrified me. It’s one thing talking about having an abortion, but it’s a completely different ball game actually going through with it.
The choice got taken from me. In the space of 48 hours, I had found out I was pregnant, and then miscarried. We barely had enough time to process the news, before all control of the situation had left our hands.
“1 in 4 pregnancies result in miscarriage”. Somehow, hearing that from the doctor, wasn’t quite the reassurance that I was after. Nor was being told that she was unable to give a definitive reason why, or that she would do any form of investigation until I’ve suffered 3 miscarriages. Fantastic. I am on strike one.
There’s nothing that can prepare you for entering the club that nobody wants to be in. In fact, being a member of the club makes you feel more alone than ever. We all hope to be in the majority, and pray we’ll never have to experience the pain of losing a child, however early on it may be. Sadly, as the statistics present, this isn’t the reality for many.
Through my own research, and reaching out to someone I follow on Instagram who I know has been through something similar, I discovered that I’ve had what they call, a ‘chemical pregnancy’. I had never heard of the term before, and to be blunt, I think the name is awful. It feels so very impersonal and under-valued, and so it doesn’t sit right with me at all. Part of the reason why I feel it suitable to be writing this, is that if I have never heard of it, I’m sure many others won’t have too, and that suggests that there needs to be more of a conversation.
Sharing my story with the world makes it feel all the more real. I’m not entirely sure how I feel at the moment, but I know that I want to talk about it and I don’t want for it to be forgotten. I want to connect with other women and couples who have been through the same thing, and to know that I am not alone. The only form of evidence or confirmation that this ever happened, lies within a box of positive tests. Often, I take a minute to sit and look at them, and just stare in disbelief. A couple of lines staring back at me on a stick is all I have. A couple of lines that mean so much.
My partner would make such a great Dad. And I have faith in myself that I would be a great Mum. Thinking of the recent events, I feel guilty. Embarrassed. Ashamed. I distrust my body, and its ability to complete one of its biggest functions. And I distrust, and feel disconnected more than ever, with who I am, and what I truly want.
Nothing worth having in life is ever easy.
I have so many questions. So many emotions. And so much confusion.
I know, deep down, that I’m not ready to be a Mum. But maybe one day I can be one. Please, one day.
You can read more from Natalie in her blog, here.