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REAL STORIES | What It’s Like To Have An Early Miscarriage

27th May 2019

WARNING: This contains some very graphic and upsetting detail, and is also a long read. If you are pregnant and anxious about miscarrying, or suffering with PTSD from miscarriage or traumatic birth you may find this very distressing. 
 

NOTE: For the purpose of accuracy I’m just making readers aware that since writing this post (published on 10/02/19) I suffered a third miscarriage. I have not yet had the chance to write about this but I will try in future. 

I’m sorry for such a blunt title. I thought about how to carefully word it for a little while but then thought, why? I’ve had 2 early miscarriages now and for me, personally, I cope better talking about them in a matter of fact way. This may be the nurse in me, but these are my personal accounts with pregnancy loss so I won’t know how to talk about them in any other way. 

I’m not very sure why I’ve written this post as it’s a painful reminder of what happened, and the experience has been nothing short of traumatic. But writing about it helps me and if I know that there’s a possibility it may help someone else who has gone through the same thing, or help someone understand what it feels like, then I’m happy. 

We have a son, Archie, who turns 3 in May. We conceived him in no time and I had a healthy pregnancy. We always knew we wanted 2 children, but finances meant that we held off from trying for another baby until March last year. 

So we tried, and tried and tried. Nothing happened for months. It didn’t matter that it was only months, or that we already have a child, I was, and still am, so desperate for another baby that every time I started my period it filled me with utter disappointment. 

 

First miscarriage: 

November came and I missed the period I was due right at the beginning of the month, something that never happens to me. I felt pregnant. I was so excited. I had all the symptoms I did when I was pregnant with Archie. The painful breasts, the all-day “I’m rocking on a boat” nausea, the exhaustion. I was even kneeling on our bedroom floor one day folding some laundry, and I could feel that heavy, swollen feeling of my womb. I stopped and smiled, holding my imaginary “bump”, thinking to myself “of course I’m pregnant, I’ve missed my period as well.” Despite all this, the pregnancy tests were negative, so I went on a big night out and had a bit to drink. 

Miscarriage

I booked a visit to my GP right at the end of the month – all those feelings of pregnancy had already gone away and I convinced myself I had PCOS because of my long cycles, our struggle to conceive, some hairs that had been growing on my chin along with the sudden onset of adult acne, and because I’d also missed a period. I’d also had severe, unexplained pain in my uterus at the end of October that landed me in A&E (not a symptoms of PCOS). 

The GP agreed and ordered lots of hormone bloods and an ultrasound scan for me. 

Over the next week I went on a few Christmas parties and had lots to drink, thinking nothing of it. I carried on eating and drinking whatever I wanted. 

I had my bloods taken on the 4th of December and the day after I began bleeding. Assuming it was just my period I whipped out my menstrual cup and cracked on with it for just over a week. I didn’t suspect a thing, despite noticing that the cup was a bit fuller than usual and that I had lower back pain that I never have during my periods. I remember sitting on the floor a lot to get comfortable. Every time I took the cup out I just chucked the contents straight into the toilet without looking at any of it. I thought my period had stopped at one point, and I then had another big bleed a couple of days later. I thought it was strange, but didn’t want to start using the cup again for a one-off bleed. 
The evening after, as I was getting ready to go Christmas shopping, I went to the toilet and when I wiped, I noticed that it felt like there was something more than just wee I was wiping. I looked at the toilet paper and there was old blood, with what looked like a significant amount of little pieces of human tissue. 

I was confused. 

I touched the pieces, assuming they’d just be bits of rolled up toilet paper. I went cold when I realised they weren’t, and upon inspection they were little grey pieces of human tissue. 

Normally, as a nurse who works in gynecology, I would have assumed that they were my human tissue. But it immediately made sense; the severe pain in my uterus, the missed period shortly after, the undeniable symptoms of pregnancy, the flimsy, cheap pregnancy tests I used. 
I panicked, and flushed it all down the toilet, refusing to look any more. 

I went downstairs to tell my husband, Kov, who tried to keep me calm and convince me it’s probably nothing, but I was still tearful. Still, off I went shopping with the idea that I may have been having a miscarriage looming over me. 

I didn’t look at the tissue or the toilet when I went for a wee that night, or the following morning before work. I just went to work as usual and got on with my day. 

At lunchtime I finally decided to go to the toilet. Before weeing, I wiped anyway and looked at the tissue. Those little grey pieces of human tissue were now larger pieces of unmistakable shapes of the anatomy of a developing embryo. The empty sac was the first thing I saw. I sobbed, folding up the tissue and putting it in my pocket as I knew I needed to show someone. 

I went into a room where some of my colleagues were and they knew immediately that something was wrong. I told them that I thought I was having a miscarriage and that I had the tissue in my pocket. 

A lovely nurse colleague, who’d had experience of working on an early pregnancy ward, took me into a room so I could show her the tissue. She agreed that it looked like miscarriage tissue and took me to find one the specialist nurses we work with. The specialist nurse logged into the results system and checked my hormone blood results from the week before, and could see that my prolactin levels were quite raised. This can be a result of high stress, but also of pregnancy, as this hormone is required to begin the process of lactation for when a baby is born. The bloods also showed that I was unlikely to have PCOS as everything else was within normal range. The nurse took my bloods to re-check my prolactin and HCG level, and then I had to leave to collect Archie from nursery. 

Kov had gone to his work Christmas party that evening. I didn’t tell him a thing until the next morning. I just didn’t see the point of spoiling his night out when there was nothing anyone could do. 

On my way home I learned that my bloods were rejected by the lab due to an issue with the labels. The poor specialist nurse, profusely apologetic, offered for me to go in the next day to have my bloods retaken. 

So I went home, spent some time with Archie and once he’d gone to bed I curled up on the sofa and spent the evening passing the rest of the tissue. One of my best friends called me and we cried. 

The next day I finished passing all the tissue and I told Kov. I really didn’t want to go back to hospital and get my bloods taken, so I didn’t. I didn’t see the point as I felt well, had no pain anymore and the bleeding had completely stopped. It was as if nothing had happened. The day after, we went to a friend’s house for a Christmas gathering, knowing what had just happened but not wanting to tell anyone just yet.

I cried every day for a week, shocked and in disbelief at what had happened. I never had confirmation of any of it, but fortunately I had the miscarriage specialist nurse I work with to support me. I was relieved that this meant that I could get pregnant, but also devastated that after what would have been 7 months of trying, we lost the one thing we wanted the most. Despite all of this, I didn’t take any time off work. I didn’t need to – I just thought I was having a bad period. 

I was relieved to be told that I didn’t need to do anything else. I dreaded needing scans and blood tests. I was advised to speak to someone at work if I began having any signs of infection, which I never did. 

Christmas and New Year came and went. We had a nice little Christmas and spent New Year with some of my closest friends. I was sad, but because I’d gotten negative pregnancy tests I didn’t feel like I’d “lost” anything that I could get attached to. And besides, I had no other evidence of a miscarriage other than the tissue that I’d passed the majority of without noticing.

 

Second miscarriage: 

On the 8th January whilst at work, I felt that intense tingling in my breasts that I got when I had a let-down whilst breastfeeding Archie. We did a pregnancy test at work but it was negative. It wasn’t my first urine of the day, so I decided I might do another test in a couple of days if I still had that tingling. The next day I picked up a couple of digital pregnancy tests and ovulation sticks – I didn’t for a second think I was pregnant but knew that I was ready to keep trying.

On the morning of the 10th January, I struggled to wake up for work. I sat up in bed and immediately felt nauseous. Kov was already at work and Archie was at nursery. The first thing I did was take a pregnancy test just so I could get it out of the way. I was still sat on the toilet when the word “Pregnant” flashed up on the little screen. 

I let out a little scream. My heart was racing and I was in complete shock. I took a photo of the test in case I needed to look again while I was at work later, thinking I was just going mad. I genuinely looked in the mirror and slapped myself in the face to see if it was just another dream. I was awake. I began laughing, even rubbing my belly to cradle my very new baby. 

I was a little late for work that morning. Luckily I was working at my local hospital instead of the main one I work at in the city centre. I did another test at work and saw a faint line. 

At the end of my shift I went to the local pharmacy to pick up more tests that show lines. I needed more convincing. I cannot tell you how ecstatic I was. I couldn’t wait to tell Kov when we got home. 

I got home and took one of the new tests, which showed a strong pink line. I was over the moon. I had 5 minutes before Kov and Archie got home, so in a panic I placed the digital test in one of Kov’s slippers which I placed in the kitchen. When he got home I was busy doing the dishes while Kov, as predicted, put his slippers straight on. “Archie!” he sighed as he felt his foot hit something hard, thinking it was a toy Archie had put in his slipper. He leaned over to pull out the pregnancy test, looked at it and then right at me. He said “Are you kidding?” with the smallest smile on his face as he tried to hide his uncertain excitement and surprise. I was giggling, told him it was real. “Already? After all that?!” he asked. I explained that I’d already read up on it, that it was totally possible to fall pregnant right after a miscarriage. I showed him the other test with the strong line on which was in my pocket. He wrapped his arms around me while I shed a few tears, smiling with the same joy I was feeling. 

The next couple of weeks were lovely; I had my first midwife appointment and cancelled the ultrasound scan I was meant to have to investigate for PCOS. We shared the happy news with some immediate family and a few close friends. We didn’t want to make a huge deal out of it but I also couldn’t keep it a secret from everyone. 

We were already focusing on plans for the future; we planned to move Archie into the front bedroom and redecorate it for him so baby could have his old room, Kov invested in an electric bike he found on offer, rather than buying another car to commute in whilst I was on maternity leave. We’re going on holiday in March so I had my eye on maternity swimwear and summer dresses. We knew where I wanted to give birth and were already choosing names. Archie was excited and sang to the baby all the time, brought toys to my belly to “play with his little sister” as he was adamant he wanted it to be a girl. We had our hearts absolutely set on our second baby. Everyone did. 

I had morning sickness and fatigue, and found myself in maternity bras and struggling to fasten up my jeans by the time I was about 6 weeks pregnant. Despite all of this, I was doing a pregnancy test every couple of days to keep an eye on the line getting darker – I knew I shouldn’t be doing it, but I was so worried that I was going to lose this baby. The lines were getting darker, and a digital test showing how many weeks pregnant I was showed that my HCG levels were rising. 

Miscarriage

By Tuesday 22nd January I’d gone off sick from work with morning sickness. I hate being sick, but I was just relieved that I was feeling pregnancy symptoms. 

On the morning of Saturday 26th January I stayed in bed a little longer as I was exhausted. At about 10am Kov and Archie came upstairs to see if I was OK. Archie got on the bed next to me for a cuddle. I was lay on my back, and without warning he playfully dived onto my belly with all of his weight and with full force. 

I screamed – it was so hard and fast that it hurt my spine. I ached all over from my ribs to my pelvis. Kov explained the seriousness of what he’d done to him and I called the EGU (emergency gynae unit) which is based in the same hospital where I work. The nurse who spoke to me was great with me, explaining that for any damage to be done to the baby, Archie would’ve had to have broken my pelvic bone, but to call them if I do have any problems. This was a relief to hear, but the fact that harm could have been done still loomed over me all day. 
I went and got my hair cut that afternoon in silence. I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day. I then picked Archie up and we went to one of his friend’s birthday parties with a few of my mum friends. We sat and talked about my second baby for hours, all the logistics of having a second and all my plans. I felt a lot more relaxed by then and even more excited. 

I went home at 4pm feeling fine. I visited the toilet, worrying that I could feel bleeding, and was utterly relieved to find no blood. By 6pm I realised that I had significant lower back pain. The same back pain I had the first time I miscarried. I went back to the toilet to discover a drop of fresh blood in my underwear. I went cold again and panicked. Kov did his best to assure me that it was normal to have some bleeding in early pregnancy. I knew this of course, but it didn’t stop me from going into panic mode. 

I went and sat down for a few hours, trying to forget about it. It was only a drop of blood. 

I few hours later I went back to the toilet and the bleeding had increased, and this time it was darker with tiny clots. I knew right away that it was game over. I never had any bleeding with Archie and this was too much of a coincidence after that morning’s incident. I called EGU and spoke to a nice doctor who told me to come in. I called my parents and asked them to come over while Archie slept, and Kov drove us to EGU. It was around 11pm when we got there and there was only 1 other woman in the waiting room. It was raining and very cold. It couldn’t have felt more ominous. 

It wasn’t too surreal – we’d been there before when I was a few weeks pregnant with Archie and had left sided pain. But it was strange because I often visit the unit as part of my job. 

I had my observations taken by a nursing assistant and explained what had happened. Around 45mins later I was seen by the night nurse and I told her what happened in more detail. She took my blood to check my HCG level and examined my sanitary pad to see what the bleeding was like – I was relieved to see that the bleeding had already settled down! My back pain was still bad though – it was a lower back pain that I could not get comfortable with, with some left sided pelvic pain that wasn’t as bad. 

Not long after, the doctor I spoke to earlier on the phone came to see us. He explained lots of things to us that we knew, but I don’t really remember any of it. I was in disbelief to be there. I was already preparing myself for bad news. He said he’d need to examine my cervix with a speculum which for some reason surprised me. That if it was closed, we might be OK, but if it was open, it wasn’t a good sign. 

I got myself ready on the bed while the nursing assistant and doctor waited outside the room. I remember saying to Kov “I don’t think it’s open.” 

They came back in, and despite me working in gynae I was nervous about the speculum going in. It was fine of course, and I was eager for them to look. The doctor had to move some old blood out of the way to see my cervix properly and after a few minutes of suspense, he sighed as he removed the speculum, and said that it looked partially open. 

I nodded my head. Of course it was. 

He wanted a second opinion so I stayed on the bed and waited for him to get the night nurse. 

As he left the room I sobbed. My nightmare was becoming even more real. 

They came back in the room and had another look together, which is when I remembered to tell them that around 6 years ago I’d had a LLETZ procedure which had left my cervix looking different. They agreed that they could see where I’d had the LLETZ and the nurse said that it looked closed, and I had an ectopy on my cervix (a normal occurrence where the tissue on the surface of the cervix bleeds easily and appears red). 

I acknowledged this but I didn’t really believe it. I had a feeling that the doctor was right the first time and I knew from past experience that my cervix is difficult to examine. 

He came back when I was dressed and explained why the thought it was open at first but that actually it looked closed, and part of me had some hope. But I could tell from the pain that this was going to end badly. He told me that I needed to go back 48hrs later for a repeat HCG level, to see if it was increasing or decreasing. 

We got home around 2am and my parents left. We went straight to bed and through exhaustion I managed to sleep. 

The next morning was Sunday and I woke up to see a missed call on my phone, from “No caller ID”. The hospital. I dreaded calling them back and held off for half an hour, but eventually I did. 

A nurse answered and checked if I was OK, then told me that my HCG blood result was back. It was only 135. Not high enough for a 7 week pregnancy. Not high at all. 

She advised me about what to do if the pain or bleeding got worse before I went back 48hrs later for my repeat HCG, which was to call or visit them again. 

When the call ended I cried. I did not expect my HCG to be so low. This meant it was unlikely that Archie diving on me caused the miscarriage, but it also could’ve meant that actually I was only 5 weeks pregnant and a HCG of 135 was normal but the dive did cause the miscarriage. We won’t ever know. 

I text my parents asking if they could come and collect Archie as soon as possible. I already felt dreadful and full of pain, and I knew I’d need Kov to look after me all day. 

I went to the toilet for the first time that day to find that my sanitary pad was empty and I was relieved, but as soon as I’d wiped with the toilet paper I realised that the bleeding had really started. 

My parents came to pick Archie up, and despite us all being very deflated they left quickly to give us some space. This is when I knew the hard part would begin. I knew it wouldn’t be a long wait. My last symptoms of feeling pregnant were days ago. 

We settled down on the sofa and began watching TV in between my crying. Kov brought me food, drinks, pain relief and a hot water bottle throughout the day. The pain in my lower back was intense. 

The blood poured out of me all day. The clots passed during a miscarriage are different to the ones during a period and they were traumatising to see. Kov came with me to every single gory toilet trip, just to be there as I sobbed and howled, to pass me sanitary pads and tissues and to just hold me after I’d cleaned myself up. Every time I stood up from the toilet there would be another gush of blood. I was shaking all day and my heart raced with anxiety and grief. Kov had to encourage me to eat and drink as I just did not want to. I still could not believe this was real. This wasn’t just an embryo, this was our baby. We already loved this baby and we were watching the aftermath of its demise in the most horrific and painful way. 

This went on all day until the bleeding tailed off a lot in the evening. I spent the day on the sofa watching Netflix which served as the best distraction. At around 11:30pm we decided to go to bed. I felt like I needed to go for a number two, and hadn’t passed much blood for a couple of hours, so decided to go to the toilet alone this time. As soon as I sat down I felt something fall out and into the toilet water. For a moment I denied it, and then my heart sank. I dropped to my knees and saw something different in the toilet this time. I didn’t care – I put my hand right in and scooped out our baby. 

My ears were thumping as I stroked the tiny clump in my palm. I yelled out to Kov. He responded immediately and I told him I’d passed the baby, and asked him to bring the urine specimen pots from the bedroom – they’d been given to me by the midwife for my next few appointments. 

It wasn’t easy to tell what I was looking at but there appeared to be the stumps of developing arms, the curve of the side of little thighs and some placenta. I didn’t examine baby for too long as I was half naked on the cold floor and I couldn’t see properly through tears. I remember saying “that’s our baby” to Kov, and putting it into the specimen pot. Kov helped me up and I called EGU to tell the night nurse what had happened. I asked her if I had to go there that night to show them the baby or if I could go in the morning – I was so exhausted that I couldn’t face going there and then. The nurse comforted me and told me I could go in the morning, and that I could put baby in the fridge overnight to preserve the tissue or if I wasn’t comfortable with that, outside in the garden as it was cold. 

I chose the fridge, but I couldn’t face being the one to put baby in there. Kov did this for me. I couldn’t bear the thought of baby being outside alone in the garden overnight, but being alone in the fridge didn’t feel right either. I couldn’t stop thinking about that little body in the fridge as I struggled to fall asleep. 

The next morning, a Monday, we got up and ready for the day. Once I was dressed I took baby from the fridge to say hello. The blood seemed to have moved into where the spine would be, a dark red line appearing there. The rest of what would be the body didn’t look distinguishable anymore. Whilst cradling the little pot I noticed that the sun was shining brightly. I’d already fantasised about our second child playing in the back garden with Archie on a sunny day, so I brought baby outside to feel some sunshine and to see our back garden before it left the house forever. This absolutely broke my heart. 

We tried to find a nice fabric bag to carry the pot in to bring it to the hospital, but one of Archie’s pyjama tops wrapped around it felt better. 
It was a beautiful day. We got to the hospital around midday; I could see my work department in the distance as we walked to EGU and I could see some of my colleagues dealing with an issue. I felt guilty not being there but I was tearful and didn’t want them to see me. 
I was seen quickly by a brilliant clinical nurse specialist. I told her what had happened and she explained what would happen next. She took baby away to examine it. When she came back she said that there didn’t appear to be anything distinguishable as a baby there, just placenta! I may have just been looking for something recognisable when I passed the tissue, but equally the nurse was looking at it over 12 hours after I’d passed it. It looked quite different to how it did the night before. I felt its body the night before; where there appeared to be arm stumps it felt rigid, like soft bone. 

I signed a consent form for baby to be sent to the laboratory for testing (for abnormalities) and the nurse explained that if there is any embryonic tissue left after it has been to the lab, the tissue would be cremated with the other babies and we would receive an invitation to this in a few weeks. She then examined my cervix again and she said it looked closed. I was bleeding less, but still in a lot of pain. I declined any strong pain relief as I don’t tolerate it well. 

She knew that I’d been told to have my repeat HCG the next morning but she gave us the option of going back that night instead, rather than having to go again the next day. We chose that option. 

Once we’d finished there I didn’t want to go home and asked Kov to take us to IKEA for lunch and some shopping. We spent a couple of hours there but I was in so much pain that I wanted to stop before I was finished looking. 

We went home and just continued watching TV until it was time to go back to EGU for my blood test that night. 

We got back there at around 10pm and it was busy. A different night nurse saw me and took my blood, and told me that someone would call me the next morning to tell me the result. 

Kov went to bed before midnight but I didn’t want to go yet; I felt uncomfortable across my pelvis and just wanted to be alone for a little while. 

I was still up near 2am and after the feeling got worse I went for a wee in the downstairs toilet. The bleeding was minimal, so I went back to the sofa to sit down. I felt a sudden, severe stabbing pain in the left side of my pelvis that took my breath away and then went away, but then I suddenly began to feel very ill. I can only describe this as I felt like I was going to die. I called Kov and he came downstairs to me right away, where I began shaking uncontrollably and asked him to call an ambulance. I was absolutely terrified that I’d had an ectopic pregnancy where the tissue was still growing and had ruptured my left fallopian tube. 

Because I was breathing, conscious and not bleeding the ambulance took around an hour to get to us; we were going to cancel it to go in the car instead, but I didn’t feel that I was able to walk from the hospital car park to EGU or A&E. I was so frightened that I wasn’t sure what I was even feeling anymore. By the time the paramedics had assessed me at 3:30am I was starting to feel a little better, but still shaking and in pain. They took me to EGU. My first ride in an ambulance. The paramedics were great. 

lay down and fell asleep in the waiting room. The lights were off and there was a man on the other side with his baby daughter asleep on his chest. I was gutted to be there only a few hours after I’d already been, and incredibly tired. I was soon seen by the same doctor from the first night who was very sorry for me. He told me my HCG result was back already and was at 25. My miscarriage was confirmed at this point. 

Again, there was no point having an ultrasound scan as there would be nothing to see with a HCG that low. I was relieved – this meant that my body was dealing with the miscarriage naturally rather than requiring medical intervention and that it was very unlikely I’d had an ectopic rupture as my symptoms had improved. We don’t know what caused me to feel so unwell. 

He examined my cervix again and it was closed. I’m still very grateful for how gentle every speculum examination was on EGU, and for how incredible all of the staff were. 

We took a taxi home at 6am and went straight to bed for a few hours. I updated one of the sisters at work via text message who understood that I could not ring them and talk about it, so I took more time off work this time. 

My parents brought Archie home that day. I felt ready to look after him and had missed him terribly. Seeing him brought me so much joy and I certainly appreciated him more than ever. 

The next morning it snowed heavily. As I changed Archie’s nappy he looked at me and asked to see the baby – he’d asked me this every day since he was told I was pregnant, and would want me to lift up my top so he could pat and kiss my belly. 

I cried, and told him that the baby had to go away. He asked where, and I didn’t know what else to say other than it flew away and I was sad. He hugged me tightly and said he’d make me happy before giving me a big kiss. My little boy knew what to do perfectly. 

We went for a walk and played in the snow in a field nearby. Our first time playing in the snow with Archie! I was still in pain, and exhausted, but I did not want to miss this opportunity. 

The day after, Kov went back to work and took Archie to nursery, so one of my best friends came round with a bucket of KFC and her 3 month old son. It was just what I needed. I still couldn’t talk about my miscarriage much, but it was helpful to talk about something else. She knew I just wasn’t at that stage yet. 

Kov came home from work with Archie and in the evening, then the 3 of them went to build my new dressing table in our bedroom while I entertained and held her baby boy downstairs. He fell asleep in my arms and it felt perfect. Instead of feeling like I couldn’t be around a baby, it was like I finally felt able to use some of the new maternal love I’d had for the baby I’d lost, but for my friend’s baby boy instead. 

The day after was Friday and it was my first day alone. I did too much. I did some housework and sorted out some tax issues, but then I mustered up the energy and courage to go to our local B&Q to get some paint samples. 

Whilst wandering around B&Q I suddenly had so much left-sided pelvic and lower back pain again that I almost called an ambulance again. I held off and picked Kov and Archie up, opting to home instead and just rest. It did the trick. 

Since then I’ve felt much better physically. Work has been very good with me and gave me all the time off I needed. My amazing sister-in-law met me for my favourite lunch, a little cry and a bit of exciting shopping, and my friend who brought the KFC met me the next day for a child-free, luxury, all day girls day out in the city centre. 

I went back to work on the Thursday. I felt ready, despite being exhausted. It was only at our local hospital and only one clinic, and although I was tearful right at the beginning I was grateful for the distraction and normal conversation. The day after I was back at my main place of work and was well looked after. I’m glad I told my colleagues that I was pregnant so early, otherwise they wouldn’t have known that I’d miscarried again and needed a bit of support. 

I’m still tired but the pain and bleeding have long gone. I’m still devastated, absolutely devastated. I’ve only just started to remember that I’m not  pregnant now, and that I can have a drink or eat certain things again, which really gets me down. I have to take a pregnancy test in a few weeks to make sure my body has passed everything, which I’m sure it has. 

Archie still keeps asking me about the baby. He is very sad that he won’t be a big brother now and when he asks about the baby, he asks so affectionately, as he forgets it’s gone. It was like a little secret we shared. He announced my pregnancy to family members by pointing at my belly in response to the question “Where’s the baby?” and when we’d ask what it’s doing he’d proudly say “growing!” I still can’t believe all that excitement has slipped through my fingers in what feels like the blink of an eye. 

I’m not sure what we’ll do next. I’ve found that deactivating my Instagram account and staying off Facebook has been helpful in getting my thoughts straight. We can’t start trying to conceive again until I get that negative pregnancy test in a few weeks, but I’m exhausted. I’ve spent the past few months pregnant, miscarrying, pregnant and then miscarrying again, which as you can imagine is physically and psychologically draining. 

We have a family holiday coming up in a few weeks so I think I’d like to enjoy it without being pregnant, but this holiday will mark a year since we started trying for a second baby. As awful as this sounds, I would rather have spent a year trying to conceive than experience the trauma of miscarrying, and this sways my mind into wondering if we should try for another baby at all. Could I go through another miscarriage again? I already have anxiety, will I make myself ill with worry if I get pregnant again? 

It’s a lot to think about and I don’t have any answers yet. 

So there you have it. My misfortune laid bare. On a positive ending, I have come out of the other side and realised that my life is still full of fortune. It has made it very clear that we have a strong marriage and a strong family, and that behind the madness of social media is where my friends shine. I’ve never felt so loved. 

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I’m a primary school teacher and I’m a mum to a beautiful, bright and bubbly six-year-old. I witness the ups and downs of wellbeing in children every day. Every parent faces the same dilemma – how to ensure the wellbeing of our children – particularly from a mental health perspective in a world that is more pressured than ever in more ways than one.

REVIEW | The Deep – family fun at one of the UK’s largest aquariums

We had such high expectations of The Deep. So many people have given us glowing reviews, I did wonder if the reality would disappoint. We had intended to visit during our last family holiday where we had stayed in a cottage near Hornsea. Frustratingly, all getting ill put paid to any hope of doing anything… so when The Deep recently invited the Girl About Blog Squad to visit, I practically bit their hand off!

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Living with and coping with anxiety can feel like, and mean something different to everyone, rearing its head at different moments in life – often feeling like a full force body swerve to the mind that you’re not expecting. It arrives often with no warning, without invite, and certainly isn’t a one that anyone chooses to have hanging around like a purple cloud of smog just slightly out of reach that you can’t quite put your finger on.

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The Girl About Blog Squad is a collective of female bloggers across the UK. One platform made up of lots of localised personal blogs from ladies just like you.

Each blogger has their own personal patch - they are the official Girl About their own little corner of the UK. Their mission is to provide Girl About readers with their recommendations and honest and frank reviews on places to eat, sleep, drink, relax & unwind and have fun in their neck of the woods - with or without the kids.

The Blog Squad and Girl About readers are largely made up woman in their 30s and 40s - multi-tasking fiery females with a lust for life and a level of expectation that comes with being a modern mum, friend, a career woman with responsibilities, commitments and a serious lack of free time - Girl About provides proper honest, down-to-earth, easy to digest and well-written content for your enjoyment, so grab a cuppa and catch up with the Girl About Blog Squad.

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