So was I going to wait and see if my body had a natural miscarriage or go for surgery?
At 5.30am on 18th November 2013, the choice was taken away from me when I had my first contraction. A contraction. No one warned me about this.
I thought of miscarriage as bleeding, an aching possibly badly cramping belly and a loss. Horrible but nothing like labour. So why was I contracting?
By 7.30am I was breathing through contractions and Shy was taken to my big sisters so I could go to the hospital earlier than planned.
All I can say for the emergency gynaecology department at that hospital is bad attitude, uncomfortable and unusually cruel. There are pregnant women awaiting scans to make sure their baby is ok. There are women finding out they have ectopic pregnancies, miscarried or miscarrying. And we are all thrown together, to wonder what our stories are and praying for the best. And yet you throw me in there, contracting and crying, practically climbing the walls whilst these women sit and hope they’re not going to end up like me.
A woman’s husband has to leave because he can’t bare to see or hear me suffering knowing it could happen to his wife.
I stand and find myself covered in blood – the last of my dignity is taken away from me. TRMan has to come into the ladies bathroom to help me out and then he has to leave to buy me clean clothes and necessities.
It’s now nearly 11am. I’ve been contracting for over 5 hours. And obviously I’m called while TRMan is still gone.
After all of that bleeding, the baby is still there. But the doctor can help me if I want, help my body do its job. I agree. My waters are broken (ouch) and then the doctor helps to get my baby out. I feel like I’ve had an assisted delivery to something very small.
Do I want to see? No.
TRMan arrives and comes in. He’s upset he wasn’t there for me. I feel confused to leave because I feel like I partly gave birth and should be leaving with something. Instead I leave physically empty and with empty arms. A space in my heart unfilled.
Before we get home I bleed a lot. And when we get home I cry a lot. And do nothing else. I don’t want to be. But I have to. Because we are parents and we are needed. We can’t fall apart now.
Goodbye Angel. We will never forget.