Trigger warning: This article contains information about pregnancy loss which may be distressing to some readers.
I found out I was pregnant on Good Friday. I had been off the pill for nearly six months and was suffering from self diagnosed post contraceptive pill amenorrhea. I was taking a Vitex supplement (Chaste Tree) and a Milk Thistle liver detox trying to get my periods back and then suddenly in early April it arrived with terrible cramps. Or so I thought. (There had been a bit of spotting in March but not enough to make me believe it was a period).
My husband suggested I take a pregnancy test the night before Good Friday. I was drinking a beer and told him not to be ridiculous, because I’d been bleeding all that week. It seemed to be a feast or a famine with my periods. But the next morning his words were still with me and two blue lines came up on the test. I posted a photo on Facebook of the sunset that evening with the caption “Tis a Good Friday”. That post was deleted a few days later, as I dreaded how Facebook would remind me a year later that it wasn’t good at all in the end.
I’m a planner, always have been. I ordered a pregnancy book online, looked at maternity clothes in H&M, drank my first and last decaf coffee. Begged my husband to name a son after my dad. Thought about returning the size 8 clothes I had just bought. Although miscarriage had been mentioned and I was still bleeding, I chose not to hear it.
My sister had recurrent miscarriages (along with three healthy pregnancies) and I always had the fear I would have similar problems to her. Even if I was lucky enough to get pregnant, I always had a small amount of paranoia it wouldn’t be a viable pregnancy. However, when I saw those two lines on the pregnancy test I thought it couldn’t possibly happen to the both of us. As awful as it sounds, I felt she had taken it for the team. What were the chances? For miscarriage, one in four apparently.