Lemonade

It was three years ago today that I experienced one of the most devastating events a woman can: miscarriage. I was 39 years old and it was my first pregnancy. It was a miracle. I had lost hope that I was even able to get pregnant, and there it was - the words PREGNANT on a Clear Blue test. At 9 weeks - considered an early miscarriage - I had gone through two months of morning sickness and feeling awful. What an insult to suddenly find myself at St Thomas' ultrasound department with the sonographer saying that she couldn't find a heartbeat and that maybe it was too early - I should come back the next day. I went home discouraged and knew that it was over. I called my mom and she told me I was being negative. I told a few friends and they said, it might not be over, these things happen. No one wanted this to be the end. But, by Monday night I was doubled over in pain losing tons of blood. Shaun had been on the phone with the hospital and eventually an ambulance arrived. I was given gas and air to cope with the pain. Wheeled into an empty ward with a lovely midwife who made both Shaun and I feel very comfortable. The care that night was perfect. I was kept in overnight until I could be scanned to make sure everything was gone by the next day. The hospital was cold and felt even more so now that it was just me and Shaun. Our love had made a baby, and the baby died. My future had gone along with my hope. Shaun made a few phone calls throughout the day covering my classes and letting people know. He eventually left the hospital and went to tell his parents who had not known that I was pregnant at all. This was a whole other story! In the afternoon I was released and I traveled home alone by taxi. Shaun was at my flat when I arrived home. Nothing but sadness and emptiness for weeks that followed. The emotional nosedive was bigger than anything I had ever experienced. I cried and typed and cried and typed for days. It was a long process, and in retrospect, I don't think I fully recovered for a long long time after.

Today, however, the anniversary of that dark day, I am grateful for my son who was born just under a year later. I am grateful to Shaun for sticking by me and to my body for (so far!)  holding two pregnancies. I don't feel so sad anymore. If that little babe had been born on the 21st June 2009 as expected, I wouldn't know Sebastian or be anxiously awaiting the arrival of his brother Charlie.