By CATHERINE RODIE BLAGG
My period was a little late, I felt dreadful and I couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that there was something different. “I’m going to do a pregnancy test” I told my husband (then boyfriend).
I really didn’t think much of it. There were lots of other explanations. I’ll do the test, it will be negative and then I can forget about it.
But it wasn’t negative.
F*ck. F*ck. F*ck.
My husband stood beside me. I didn’t need to tell him. We had witnessed the two lines emerging on the stick together.
Although we had discussed marriage and babies our relationship was still fairly new. We had lived together. We’d met each others families. We were going in that general direction… it was just a little sooner than expected.
It was a shock. But as the shock wore off we started to get excited. We talked and talked and talked some more.
I didn’t know much about pregnancy. Only one of my close friends had a baby and she lived on the other side of the world. There were lots of surprises, like achy boobs and incessant weeing. I was constantly hungry, but couldn’t stomach food. I vomited. A lot.
My GP talked me through the scans and the paperwork. I made notes. During my lunch breaks I devoured the internet. I was scared. But I was happy. There was a time in my life that I didn’t want children. Babies made me nervous. But when I met my husband my feelings changed. I wanted to build a life with the wonderful man who made my heart sing.
I remember the moment I saw the blood with totally clarity. My stomach lurched, panic raced through my veins. At first it was light spotting, but by the following morning I knew for sure – something was very wrong.
My wonderful, kind, compassionate GP was unavailable. Her colleague was detached. She ignored my sobs as she handed me a referral.
“Yes, you’ve had a miscarriage, you’ll need a scan to determine whether or not you need a D&C”