TW a bit of loss, not much
I found out that a baby born after a loss is called a Rainbow Baby… I love it! I love rainbows. I love sunshine amidst rain, the fracturing of light, all the colours, diversity and gay pride – all the best things!
In December, my partner and I will bring a rainbow baby into the world, if all goes well – which I feel it will. This little human is truly coming out from behind the darkest clouds to light up our lives.
It has been a hard road, and with this unbelievably wonderful development comes a strange sort of guilt. We didn’t have to wait too long. Only about 6 months after we lost our 10 week bean, I was able to see those crazy little double pink lines on the test. I left it sitting on the bathroom sink and watched my partner from the shower as he looked at it. Furrowed his brow and looked at it some more. And then looked at me. His expression was priceless. I had been waiting to see those lines for months; picturing them, hoping for them – even imagining them – but for him, he wasn’t completely sure of what he was looking at.
“It’s happening,” I said.
Our immediate reaction to this was so different from our first pregnancy. Surely the first trimester is the hardest time for a couple who have suffered a miscarriage or still birth. For us, there was no reason to believe that we would miscarry again – except the fact that we had miscarried previously. The stats do show that miscarriage is more likely to happen when there’s been one already (but I can see how this number might be affected by fertility or medical issues that reoccur with each pregnancy).
Up until about 8 weeks, I felt hopeful but overall pretty neutral. Just sort of going through the motions of life. The family members that we told would ask about the due date and we would quickly say “December, but we won’t talk about due dates yet, let’s just get to the ‘safe zone’…” And my beautiful sister would say “ooh I’ve got such-and-such to give you” and I would say, “Okay, okay, yes that would be great – but let’s just get to 12 weeks first.”
At 7 weeks and 2 days we had the optional dating scan. My dates were spot on. I wanted the early scan so I could ease my mind… last time we had two foetal sacks but only one foetus had a heartbeat. The other would probably vanish later on. It was complex last time – not dangerous, just complex. So at 7 weeks this time we were able to be reassured that we had one normal looking little bean. Not complex. But I still didn’t let myself get excited. We saw a heartbeat last time too.
Once I got to 8 weeks, I hit peak anxiety mode. I tried to keep busy, but I was feeling so exhausted and sick. Every time someone asked about the sickness I would say “yeah, it’s bad – but I’ll take it! It means everything’s still happening!” I lay awake at night – something I’ve done since my last pregnancy pretty regularly. I dreaded blood every time I went to the toilet. I almost expected it. When I felt cramps I would freak out. When I didn’t feel nauseous, I would freak out, until it returned. (A lot of my fear around this time was that I believed I had come far enough for a miscarriage to be very painful. Like the point of no return. It was either going to be great, or it was going to be really bad.)
I understand my loved ones saying “You have to be positive”, “It’s not going to happen again”, or “It will all work out when it’s meant to” but these phrases are just words that could not in any way ease the pain or the stress that I was feeling. Yes I needed to be positive – but I wanted to protect myself. No – you can’t tell me it’s not going to happen again! Because, well it might. Yes, miscarriages happen for reasons, I got that, but that didn’t make me feel better because I SURE AS HELL was not ready to go through another one.
The 9th, 10th and 11th weeks were just a sick, stressed, grumpy string of days. I had marked in my calendar each week milestone up to 12 weeks. From about a month out, I even marked in countdown days. 12 more days and we are safe, 11 more days, 10 more days, 9 more days… The ‘safe zone’ of course, is just a thing we say. Some say you need to get to the END of the 12th week, others the 13th. But to me it was all about the scan that we had booked for our last pregnancy, but hadn’t made it to. The 12 week scan.
I couldn’t actually believe it when we got to 12 weeks. I mean, I had only dreamt of getting there and when we did I wasn’t sure what to do! We had the scan and saw our baby moving around, drinking, waving… We left the clinic stunned, buoyed, and amazingly grateful.
WE MADE A HEALTHY BABY. AND IT WAS (PROBABLY) GOING TO BE OKAY.
It rained all the way home from our scan. Then the sun peeked out through the darkness, and a small, colourful rainbow appeared.
(I totally just made that last bit up, but hey, it’s my story.)