From the moment I saw those two faint lines show up on a stick soaked in wee the planning began. How would I decorate the nursery? What names did we like? What would our baby look like? What would be our due date? Of course a sense of anxiety was there as well – working as a midwife I know first hand how pregnancy and birth can go wrong.
But as we approached five weeks the nausea and fatigue began and my fears began to subside, feeling reassured in the symptoms of a healthy pregnancy.
My husband and I eagerly counted down the weeks and days until we could have our first scan, and share our news with the friends and family we hadn’t already told. He couldn’t stop annoying me as we sat in the waiting room, his excitement and pure joy was palpable, if not mildly irritating.
So what came next needless to say was the shock of our lives.
As I lay down and the doctor put the probe on my belly, we waited with bated breath, waiting to hear confirmation of a baby we were certain we had been blessed with.
But the words that came next brought us crashing back down to a horrible reality: “I can see your baby, but I’m sorry there is no heartbeat.” The tears immediately began flowing. But how can that be? I’m feeling all the right things, I’m a fit and healthy 27-year-old, I’ve had no pain or bleeding, surely there has been a mistake. Millions of questions came to mind but all I could think of was get me away from here as fast as possible.
We left that Friday afternoon devastated to say the least. Desperately I inspected all the ultrasound pictures, Googling all the information and measurements I interpreted and clutching at straws that somehow they had got it wrong. Desperately hanging onto hopes until I could see my doctor on Monday and have our questions answered.
At my next visit, it turned out they had called it too early and there was still a chance that perhaps the dates were wrong and it had been too early to see a heartbeat. So a follow-up scan was needed in a week’s time.
God, what an emotional rollercoaster. Of course I got my hopes up again. “Yes, that’s it!” I thought. “They have definitely got it wrong, this cant be happening to us, I know my baby is happy and healthy and growing just fine.”
How delusional I was. We turned up again at the same dreaded place where our hopes had been crushed the week before. Hoping and praying that this time we would be leaving victorious.
But again as I waited anxiously she confirmed what we did not want to hear. “It looks like your baby is even smaller now, I’m sorry.”
This time I held in the tears, determined not to cry. Pretending I hadn’t been crushed for the second time in a week.