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.
The pregnancy book has since been hidden by my husband on my request. He didn’t hide it very well, though. I know it’s in the spare bedroom.