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View as: GRID LIST

We Need To Talk About April

1

INTRODUCTION

Hey,

so this is a tough one but I hand on heart believe it is an important one, as are the #weneedtotalkaboutapril posts that will follow.

What I am going to share in these posts is a chapter of my story that I never dreamt I’d live –  or survive –  however the importance of them is born from the fact that this is a devastatingly familiar chapter for so, so many women and families.

We don’t hear these stories until they become our own; and that is why you’re reading this.

Sixteen weeks ago today, a lovely midwife I

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2
believe to be named Jackie, told me that our much wanted second baby was not meant to be.

Sixteen weeks ago was literally another lifetime that never got the chance to live.

Prior to the news being confirmed in the dark, small Early Assessment Pregnancy Unit, I told my Husband that I expected to break apart if the worst happened, but that I would do everything in my power to heal for us and for the gorgeous, funny daughter we already have.

Afterwards though, as we walked to the car, I listed all of the friends and acquaintances that I knew that

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3
had miscarried after their first baby and gone on to have another healthy baby.

With every footstep prior to breaking my heart at the thought of telling my family and in-laws that on this occasion, I hadn’t been good enough, I thought of these brave women who had shared their loss and somewhere inside the hole inside my heart, I felt comfort that if they could and did, I could and would.

In the immediate weeks that followed and the difficulties that arose with my body and uterus saying goodbye to the hopes and dreams of the person we had been so

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4
excited to eventually meet, I read so many stories about women who had also lost and who had been so alone. Of women who had no-where to turn and who did not speak to anyone at all. Of women who I knew and who I loved who had also suffered silently.

The arising theme was that we just don’t talk about it. I had no idea that the statistics of miscarriage were 1 in 4 until I became 1 in 4.

The thing is, talking about it has been comforting to me. To ask questions, to know that someone else understands the guttural devastation of this loss, to feel

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5
less like a first class failure because it isn’t just you.

As well as talking, I wrote. I wrote everyday in April about this chapter in my story and as a result, I honestly believe that We Need To Talk About April.

I am not special and my story is not unique. I have come to learn about the multiple losses people have had; the women yet to have children who are suffering this loss time and time again. I don’t share for any other reason that to offer the comfort I was so, so grateful for –  and still am every single day. There are wonderful

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6
charities out there who share and support but on reflection, I want to share too; even though it scares me.

If even a single woman somewhere comes across this blog and can find some light within her jet, black darkness, I will feel so grateful to have shared.

I would not have made it to my car  sixteen weeks ago today if I hadn’t heard other stories.

So, this is mine and this might be yours; if you’re following, you aren’t alone and you never will be.

Love & Sprinkles

 

Laura xoxo

 

 

 

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- 5 Aug 19

INTRODUCTION

Hey,

so this is a tough one but I hand on heart believe it is an important one, as are the #weneedtotalkaboutapril posts that will follow.

What I am going to share in these posts is a chapter of my story that I never dreamt I’d live –  or survive –  however the importance of them is born from the fact that this is a devastatingly familiar chapter for so, so many women and families.

We don’t hear these stories until they become our own; and that is why you’re reading this.

Sixteen weeks ago today, a lovely midwife I believe to be named Jackie, told me that our much wanted second baby was not meant to be.

Sixteen weeks ago was literally another lifetime that never got the chance to live.

Prior to the news being confirmed in the dark, small Early Assessment Pregnancy Unit, I told my Husband that I expected to break apart if the worst happened, but that I would do everything in my power to heal for us and for the gorgeous, funny daughter we already have.

Afterwards though, as we walked to the car, I listed all of the friends and acquaintances that I knew that had miscarried after their first baby and gone on to have another healthy baby.

With every footstep prior to breaking my heart at the thought of telling my family and in-laws that on this occasion, I hadn’t been good enough, I thought of these brave women who had shared their loss and somewhere inside the hole inside my heart, I felt comfort that if they could and did, I could and would.

In the immediate weeks that followed and the difficulties that arose with my body and uterus saying goodbye to the hopes and dreams of the person we had been so excited to eventually meet, I read so many stories about women who had also lost and who had been so alone. Of women who had no-where to turn and who did not speak to anyone at all. Of women who I knew and who I loved who had also suffered silently.

The arising theme was that we just don’t talk about it. I had no idea that the statistics of miscarriage were 1 in 4 until I became 1 in 4.

The thing is, talking about it has been comforting to me. To ask questions, to know that someone else understands the guttural devastation of this loss, to feel less like a first class failure because it isn’t just you.

As well as talking, I wrote. I wrote everyday in April about this chapter in my story and as a result, I honestly believe that We Need To Talk About April.

I am not special and my story is not unique. I have come to learn about the multiple losses people have had; the women yet to have children who are suffering this loss time and time again. I don’t share for any other reason that to offer the comfort I was so, so grateful for –  and still am every single day. There are wonderful charities out there who share and support but on reflection, I want to share too; even though it scares me.

If even a single woman somewhere comes across this blog and can find some light within her jet, black darkness, I will feel so grateful to have shared.

I would not have made it to my car  sixteen weeks ago today if I hadn’t heard other stories.

So, this is mine and this might be yours; if you’re following, you aren’t alone and you never will be.

Love & Sprinkles

 

Laura xoxo

 

 

 

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