This post deals with miscarriage and might be triggering for some readers. It contains descriptions some readers may find disturbing.
I gave birth to my dead baby – and nobody’s talking about it.
I thought it was a stomach bug.
Six months ago we all had a stomach bug, and I thought it was coming back to haunt me.
Watch: A tribute to the babies we've lost. Post continues below.
I couldn’t believe that I could have two in the space of six months, considering before then I had never had one. But I braced myself for the pain, and went to bed hoping to get a bit of sleep before the first vomit.
I was a little concerned about the baby, because I had read that having a high temperature didn’t bode well and could put it at risk. But honestly, I was just focused on getting through the next 24 hours.
I got up at 1am because my body ached all over and I couldn’t get comfortable. I decided to run a bath.
Tired of the bath after 15 minutes, I got out, dried myself off, and threw up. I was still thinking about the baby, and wondering if my raised temperature was hurting it in any way.
My husband, Bryan, got up and asked if he could do anything, but I said that I needed to get a bit more sleep before the next vomit.
I got a metal bowl from the kitchen and laid down on his side of the bed so that I could reach it easily. Then I drifted back to sleep, despite the feeling in my gut.
At 4am, my waters broke.
Initially, I thought that I had lost control of my bladder because I wasn’t in a good state. But I very quickly realised that what was coming out of me wasn’t urine.
My husband jumped up and saw the expanding puddle on the floor.
“We’re going to the hospital. I’ll get the kids up.”