This post deals with miscarriage and might be triggering for some readers.
Without a doubt, the first four months of 2020 have been some of the hardest of my life. While currently living in an unknown world, away from our families, friends and usual support networks – my coping mechanisms and mental health have been pushed to their absolute limits.
Something I have been managing for the better part of the last 10 years has now become one of the biggest challenges of my life. I know the drill – I am doing all the things and feeling all the feels – but, my goodness, this is tough.
Literally weeks prior to the strict COVID-19 lockdowns, at almost 10 weeks pregnant, I suffered a miscarriage.
Watch: A tribute to the babies we’ve lost. Post continues below.
Unfortunately for me, this was what is known as a ‘missed miscarriage’, meaning my body still thought it was pregnant although the pregnancy had stopped progressing, in our case, just after the nine-week mark.
This meant I had to undergo a surgical procedure to prevent an unexpected haemorrhage. It was extremely traumatic for us both.
I had been in a six-month relationship with a man I had known for 10 years, at this stage. What should have bought is closer together – literally tore us apart. Without any warning and whilst I was still actively miscarrying, he left me.
To say I was in shock was an understatement.
I loved this man and trusted him implicitly. He knew of my previous trauma due to my ex-husband and I allowed myself to be vulnerable with him.
He too reciprocated as I was the first person he let intimately into his and his children’s life since the passing of his wife – their mother, three and a half years prior.
It was a very deep relationship based on trust and mutual respect. We were navigating multifaceted layers, but we were getting there day by day.