Last Updated on April 2, 2019
A miscarriage is the loss of a baby before 24 weeks of pregnancy. The chances of miscarriage happening in future pregnancies are around one percent. Doctors define this as the loss of three or more consecutive pregnancies says Tommys.
“Figures from The Miscarriage Association show that more than one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage. That is around a quarter of a million in the UK every year.”
One inspiring mum shares her own experience here on the blog today.
The Chances Of Miscarriage Happening To Me Again Were Low Right?
I was so excited to find out that I was expecting, I soon began planning for my future as a mum and you never think for one minute that anything is going to go wrong.
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I was twenty when I got the two positive lines on the test stick, I had been with my fiancé for a few months and we had already talked about having children together. We were over the moon when our wish seemed to be coming true.
The first appointment with the midwife was booked, it was all so exciting.
But the day before she was due to come out and see us, I went to the toilet, wiped and saw blood.
The midwife told me not to panic, that bleeding during pregnancy was common and didn’t have to mean that anything was wrong. I breathed a sigh of relief.
A few weeks later the bleeding started again. I went along to the local early pregnancy unit where a urine sample was taken.
I had suffered from a miscarriage earlier at 5 weeks the doctor explained when I first noticed the bleeding. The heavy period like blood I was losing now was indeed a period after miscarriage.
I felt like my heart was being torn out of my chest.
Was it my fault, had I done something wrong?
I returned to work soon after, I just wanted to get on with things but I was hurting on the inside. It didn’t help that I worked in a nursery where my days were spent with young children but it was a great distraction.
I hated to see pregnant women, why could they have a baby when I couldn’t.
I was desperate for me a mum.
We waited for a few months and then we began to try to conceive again. We read books that would help us and gave up smoking and drinking alcohol, anything that would help us fall pregnant. We ate healthy foods and after sex, I tipped my pelvis back.
Nothing happened.
Finally, after eight months of trying we got the news we wanted, I was pregnant.
I convinced myself that the chances of miscarriage happening again were so low that I didn’t even need to worry about it.
I busied myself by imaging my life with a baby in my arms and spending hours trailing around the shops looking at baby items and clothes.
I was ten weeks pregnant when I felt something wet, down there, it was blood.
I ran to the shop and bought a pregnancy test, praying as I waited for it to give me the results that it came back as positive and it did. I was still pregnant.
To be on the safe side I once again, as I had done in the past visited the early pregnancy unit. I felt sick as we sat and waited for the results from the urine sample I had just given.
Then I was scanned, they could not find my baby.
An internal scan was then given.
The chances of miscarriage happening again seemed more and more likely to me and I was right. It had happened again.
Back at home, the pain of the miscarriage made me feel even worse, not only did I have to accept I had lost a second baby; I actually had to feel it happening to me.
The bleeding got worse and I had to return to the early pregnancy unit. I was left in the waiting room for four hours. Thankfully I had brought a spare pair of trousers with me as I had soaked right through my clothing onto the chair seat.
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Finally, I was taken to a private room. My notes had been misplaced by them so I found myself trying to explain everything several times to different people.
I asked if they had any sanitary towels as I desperately needed to change, they offered me something that looked like a nappy, the only adult sized.
I felt degraded and the trauma I suffered sat there in that room wearing an adult nappy while dripping with bleed will never leave me.
Why was this happening to us?
I felt like I was useless, I was not even a real woman, real women could carry babies.
Sinking into depression I hated myself, I was not offered any support. I cried a lot over the following weeks. It nearly tore our relationship apart as we were both silently grieving.
In time we did fall pregnant again, I dared not be hopeful and had already prepared myself for more heartache.
I knew that there were chances of miscarriage happening again but I was so desperate to be a mummy that I was willing to risk the hurt all over again.
I was twelve weeks pregnant with horrid morning sickness, friends would tell me this was a great sign but I couldn’t allow myself to hope.
Going to the scan filled me with dread, I could have cried when I heard the sound of my baby’s heartbeat thumping away. I carried that scan picture around with me everywhere I went.
You can imagine my fear when I lost some blood, thankfully it turned out to be cervical ectropion and I was not losing my baby.
I developed gestational diabetes and had to inject myself three times a day but it was all worth it.
I couldn’t relax at all through during the pregnancy, fearing that I would lose the baby at any minute.
At thirty eight weeks I was booked in for an induction and the labour didn’t go as well as I would have liked but I had done it, I gave birth to healthy little girl.
The miscarriages still affect me but I am concentrating on being a good mum to Sophie now.
I am so thankful that I never gave up the hope of becoming a mum.
While the chances of miscarriage happening are very real but there is hope out there.