The “M” word… yes I’m going to talk about miscarriage!

Louise Kimber - 19 Nov 18

Is it just me?… Or after years doing everything you can not to get pregnant, once you make that choice to get pregnant, yesterday is not soon enough when it comes to getting that tiny human in your womb.

I was one of those magical pregnancy unicorns, who got pregnant within minutes of coming off of the pill (not literally). Boy did I feel smug, munching away on my digestive biscuits to fight the nausea, doing my prenatal yoga on the bedroom floor, eating Kale and swearing off caffeine. Blissfully thinking I was doing everything right for the small person renting space in my womb.

Nothing could have prepared me for our dating scan, the five minutes that turned our whole world on its head. The baby hadn’t developed… A blighted ovum ( I mean what a charming term…NOT!) It sounds like being Jilted at the alter. So my body had been pregnant, but with only the egg sac to show for it. Serves you right for being smug Louise!!

Off to surgery for you Miss Kimber. Being a nurse myself it was mortifying having people I often see in the work canteen staring into my vagina!! I was awake for my surgery and HOLY F**K BALLS it was painful! The last thing I needed was my colleges standing by, whilst on my head, with my worldly wears on show for general viewing. I guess when you have a baby you get used to it, but for me and my non-baby bearing body… I was not ready.

So let the healing begin…. Surely this had to be it right?? Don’t be silly, a few weeks after that, just when you feel you are starting to get back onto your feet. A letter comes, confirming that what they did remove from your uterus was indeed “retained products of conception”. My beautiful hopes of a baby now forever documented in my history as RPOC. I mean I’m all for “out there” names. But seriously RPOC…its just crap. As a medical person I wasn’t ready to feel this sensitive over medical terminology, but I guess the mother in me had taken over. Quite frankly RPOC is no way of referring to my baby…It’s offensive and hurtful.

A few more months, a surgical infection and a few weeks of antibiotics later, I am hopeful my body is finally back to some sort of normal. But my brain, my mental wellbeing has taken a battering. I have never felt so alone or alienated.

There are so many things about miscarriage that are literally never spoken about!

For a start Miscarriage itself is never spoken about… Who made up the rule that we don’t talk about pregnancy until after twelve weeks? Why? so when the worst happens its just you and your partner gasping for air and having no one else to turn to? Or is it so I don’t make others awkward?

Oh.. and then there is the bitterness. Feeling like an a**e hole for being bitter towards every lovely baby bump you see. Turning green with envy every time anyone anywhere mentions babies! And then the guilt for feeling so bitter! Feeling so horrendously awful for not being happy for the people around you  announcing their beautiful babies (which, by the way, quadruples after you have had a miscarriage).

However, its not all bad, although I’m very aware I sound very bitter and twisted!! But finding the silver lining is paramount. My partner and I have survived, we fight, we cry but we also laugh. We can get drunk together now (as much as I would give anything to have my baby back…I do love Gin). We still dream, we imagine our future family. And our dog has now fully moved into the role of Baby in our house… he is bathing in the love and attention and literally the happiest (most spoilt) dog in the world!

I guess you never know how strong you are until you have to be. So stay strong, stay hopeful. Trying again is hard, I feel like the “anti” has been “upped”. The race is on with my body to attempt to get pregnant before the previous babies due date. I know… “don’t put pressure on yourself” “it will happen when the time is right”. Well my time is right, I know it, I just need to get my eggs on side! For now I will be waiting (impatiently) for my rainbow baby…Anyway..must go (…I’m ovulating)!

Louise Kimber

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