And that makes five?

The last time we were in this field, that boy there was a grape sized fetus. Nine weeks on the inside and growing perfectly. So confident was I, in the miracle that was heading our way, we took a photo in this very spot (heart-shaped hands, held in front of an already burgeoning bump) and shared our news later that day.

It seems a lifetime ago.

That easy enjoyment of pregnancy. The blissful ignorance and perhaps even arrogance, of how seamless it would be. I haven’t felt that way in a very long time. Six more pregnancies have come since then, each as hellish as the last. Except for one, of course. When I finally had my rainbow in my arms, those (almost) 42 weeks of agonising worry were utterly worth it. A chubby baby boy who, at 14 months, still resolutely refuses to say Mama; but who brought me back from the brink. The third baby of the four that I’d always hoped for, but the one who, for a long time, we’d decided would be our last.

The ache was still there. The gap. The feeling of not being “done”. And so, eventually, we tried again. And lost again. Now today, I stand in this field where I was once gleefully carrying my biggest boy, only this time, I’m on the verge of my fifth miscarriage.

I found out on Christmas morning and I allowed myself that one day to be happy. To feel excitement. To consider the realities of being a mum of four. To take a quick glance through the list of names that have been stored on my phone since I fell pregnant for the first time. Then on Boxing Day, self preservation kicked in and I began the agonising wait for the inevitable. The word “if” was used a lot and “maybe”. There are no certainties for me.

I was offered “hormonal support” this time. I started the progesterone pessaries on the 26th (it was decided that HCG would be too risky, given my molar history). I was supposed to see my consultant on the 29th, but the appointment was cancelled and moved to 12th Jan. By the 4th, I was bleeding again.

I barely felt anything this time. Just numbness. I’d been expecting it. Hoping it wouldn’t come, but knowing it would. In my mind, it’s already over. Bleeding has never ever ended in anything but heartbreak for me. I know that this time will be no different. Of course, I hope it will, but I’m prepared for the worst. Ready to hear those earth shattering words again. There is no heartbeat. It’s a long wait for answers. I called the hospital the next day. The EPU didn’t want to know; I was already under the care of the Recurrent Miscarriage Clinic and therefore, someone else’s problem. The clinic, well they didn’t see the point in me coming in when I already had an appointment scheduled for a weeks time. And so I wait. I wonder and I wait. I hope and I wait. I stomach devastation and I wait. And then I feel anger. For me and for all the other women who are so let down by the services that are meant to be there to help them.

I will go into hospital on Ralph’s 4th birthday, find out for certain if my fears have been realised once more and then I will take my big boy out for bowling and burgers. Because life goes on. It has to.

17 thoughts on “And that makes five?”

  1. OMG my heart is breaking for you.. this is so desperately unfair and cruel, I will dare to stay positive for you, all of my prayers will be yours, throwing positivity your way with love xxx

  2. Oh my! My heart breaks reading this, I cannot begin to imagine what your family are walking through together. Please just know so many of us are thinking of you and we will certainly keep you in our prayers!
    You are an amazingly strong woman to post this and it’s such a credit to you as a mother to share your story with us. Thank you for that! Big hugs & love to you! Xxx

  3. Oh this is so sad. You’re an absolute trooper and so strong going through this every time. Thinking positive thoughts and hoping for you that this time is different xxx

  4. Well that’s pretty shit mate! It’s true… burgers and bowling will happen because you’re a mum. I have everything crossed that there is a beat, that this little rainbow is just testing you…. #mumstrong and sending hugs X

  5. Oh Charli, I’m so so sorry. But I’m holding on to hope for you. I know you probably don’t want to hear this and have already heard it loads of times, and given you history I understand why you are so worried but I had a huge bleed when I was pregnant with Evie yet here she is. Crossing my fingers and sending lots of love xxx

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