Miscarriage – breaking my silence

baby boy 10 weeks

I’ve been quiet lately, I haven’t had the heart to blog, but some things don’t need to be kept quiet, so I’m writing again, I’m writing about my miscarriage.

2016 has been a shit year, too many deaths, close deaths, sudden deaths, but the other month it seemed like things were looking up. We were pregnant.

I’ve always been quite open about wanting a third baby, but Papa bear is against it, not because he doesn’t love children but out of fears for my safety in pregnancy.

We hadn’t planned to get pregnant but as soon as we found out we saw it as a lucky mistake, serendipitous, fate. It was difficult to come to terms with as we had agreed no more children and it wasn’t planned but we launched into action, we need to buy a bigger house, we need to start looking at good ante natal care, we need to start preparing for the business. We couldn’t contemplate abortion, we were a family, we love each other, we love our children, this was more love and that is always a good thing.


I was wracked with emotions – the joys of pregnancy hormones – guilty for feeling happy when it wasn’t planned, scared about money, excited for the future, guilty for not taking folic acid and not stopping drinking before we knew I was pregnant – yes guilt is a favourite emotion of mine it seems.

We told a few close friends who were really happy for us, we told our parents who were excited and we started to plan.

Wasn’t meant to be

I went to hospital and they confirmed I was having a miscarriage, I broke down into tears, the nurse was lovely and supportive, it wasn’t anything I could have done, these things happen, it wasn’t my fault, but in my mind of course it was my fault, did I mention my default emotion is guilt?

I just wanted to run, and I did, the nurse told me I didn’t have to pay for parking if I told security the ward- I’m guessing bad news = free parking, but I didn’t care but was thankful I wouldn’t have to try to scrape together the change through my tears which were free flowing now.

I left as fast as I could and realised I still had the cannula in my arm, but didn’t care I would pull it out later, in that moment I just wanted to run.

Wasn’t meant to be – the words I have been telling myself since I started bleeding. Very philosophical and pragmatic, but what I really want to do is scream its not fair!

I was grieving, a full on wave of emotions, guilt, loss, anger, sadness.

I wanted to hug my children, but they also reminded me of what wasn’t meant to be for this one.

Lost a Baby

My scan with my son was at 10 weeks (above pic), he was a real baby at 10 weeks, I saw him stretch out his little legs and saw his brain and his profile developing. He was a baby.

This was a baby, this baby was just shy of that milestone, who knows when he/she stopped growing and developing but this was a baby, to me.

I know friends who’ve lost children, I cannot imagine how devastating that must have been for them. Whilst I never got the chance to meet this baby, find out if they were a boy or a girl, hold them, see them smile, the loss is still real for me.

I feel like I’m experiencing a double loss, we agreed no third baby, I felt like we were given a chance to have a third and it’s gone. So now I feel I’m grieving the loss of this baby and any chance to have a third baby. I’ve lost that hope and that dream as well as the very real loss that we were pregnant and now we are not.


I am completely drained right now, I am tired and for 2 weeks every time I went to the toilet I was reminded of the fact I was losing my baby, that my baby was gone. It was heartbreaking. Even when the pain subsided from severe pains to a dull ache, I was still bleeding a bitter reminder.

Now I feel empty, I’m exhausted physically and emotionally, I lose my patience with the kids and then feel guilty (yes that guilt again) that I should cherish them more and I do but I’m drained right now and have very little to give anyone, my precious children, Papa bear, myself.

Life after Miscarriage

Life goes on, many people have had it much harder than me and lost much more, for a while I didn’t allow myself to grieve, this is because I felt I had to just suck it up as one of those things that happen, not a real loss.

That’s not true, it has been a very real loss, one that many women have experienced and kept quiet. Many women like me just go into work whilst bleeding from a miscarriage and grieving the loss but not saying anything. By not saying anything you don’t get a break, you don’t get support, you don’t allow yourself to heal.

Miscarriage is different for everyone, this loss for me was particularly hard as I was still grieving for friends and family we’ve lost in the past few months. This was my hope to the dream family of five I’ve wanted since I was a little girl. It felt like fate then fate gave us the finger, the little bit of light in a dark time only to be quashed.

Life does go on, we are back where we were (in theory) as happy as we were before this (in theory) grateful for our 2 blessings and miracles, lucky they are healthy, thankful. Things have changed though, and although life goes on and will get better again, it will stay with me forever that we made 3 children, one we’ll never meet or know.

I’m doing better now, I write as therapy and it helps me work through things, but to get to the point where I can blog means I am actually doing much better. I’m surprised at how well I’m coping doing newborn photography and meeting friends babies. I think it may get harder when we get close to the due date of the beginning of Feb but it may not by then.

I love meeting friends babies and doing the newborn shoots, I have separated my loss from their joy and my happiness for them. I’ve had the support of friends and family and I know I am lucky and will look to the future, but like so many women before me, and so many women after, I need time and to allow myself to grieve a very real loss, whether that is by talking or not we should all be able to talk about miscarriages if we want to.

Little lost star, a poem about miscarriage