Download festival with morning sickness...not good.
I was knackered. And sick. I seemed to spend almost 24 hours a day being asleep, and when I wasn't asleep I was being sick.
There is an old wife's tale that bad morning sickness is a sign of a healthy baby, so I was glad, but it's hard to be philosophical with your head down the toilet.
Before long it was time for the first scan. Our little apple pip shaped baby was in there, looking like a tiny flying saucer that had invaded my body and taken it over. We were overjoyed, and I celebrated the end of the scan by throwing up as I left the room.
I was just starting to get into the new routine of spending most of my time in the bathroom - I either needed to pee all the time, or puke. Hubby gave me the nickname "Pukahontas". I started to get it worked out well - wake up at four a.m, pee, go back to sleep. Wake up at seven, puke, flush, then pee. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.
Hubby was on early shifts, which meant he left the house at five in the moring, and got home at 3 in the afternoon, so I had to somehow manage the peeing and puking routine whilst also doing the 45 minute walk and back to take my eldest daughter to school, ad pick her up again at hometime.
One morning, I awoke as normal for my early morning pee and pukefest, and felt a weird "surge" as if I was weeing too fast for my body to cope with. I wiped, and turned around to flush, and noticed the whole of the toilet bowl was red.
I can't explain the feeling of shock and fear. It was an "oh no, oh no, please don't let it be true..." kind of fear, but coupled with the knowledge that I knew all too well what this meant.
I sat on the floor, because the room was spinning, and as I was trying to work out whether I should phone ambulance fost or my husband, whilst worrying that my daughter was still asleep, another "surge" happened.
There was no mistaking what had happened. The evidence was right in front of me. A tiny, miniscule baby, amongst the horror film scene of blood and lumpy stuff. TThe baby was not even the length of my litle finger. I wasn't thinking straight. I knew there was nothing that could be done, but I wanted to believe otherwise. I picked the baby up, laid it in my hand, washed it off with warm water and tried to give it mouth to mouth - even though I couldn't tell properly where it's mouth was. I just wanted to do SOMETHING.
I phoned my husband, who said he was on his way home. I wrapped my baby up in toilet paper and washed my hands, then went to wake my daughter so that I could give her her breakfast ad get her ready for school.
Writing this, and reading it back, seems very matter of fact, and cold, but you must remember that I was trying my best not to alarm my daughter, as she doesn't always understand things the way other people do. I was planning on explaining to her that I will be going to the hospital as soon as dad came home.
I was in a lot of pain, and as soon as my husband came home we phoned for a ambulance (we didn't have a car and I was starting to feel very faint).
We asked a friend if they would take our daughter to school, so that was quickly sorted and one last thing to worry about.
The ambulance came, and I was drifting in and out of consciousness. I was trying to tell the ambulancemen that the baby was in the bathroom, and one of them said "don't worry love, I'll sort it".
When we got to the hospital, I was quickly scanned, and the person doing the scan said I needed to come back the next week, because they couldn't get a very clear picture. We were seen by a doctor who gave us advice on what to expect over the next few days, and then in a daze began the journey home.
Just before we left, I asked the doctor what had happened to my baby - I had assumed the paramedic had given it to the staff to somehow help with the medical side of things, but no one knew what I was talking about and they looked at me as if I was crazy.
I thought maybe he'd left the baby at home, so tha we could do what we felt appropriate (I wated to bury the baby in a special place) but when I got home and searched the bathroom there was nothing at all. Where was my baby?!
Over the next few days I was in a dreamworld. Everything we'd tried so hard for was gone - and apparently because we had become pregnant we were no longer eligible for infertility treatment unless we saved up and had private treatment. It seemed that every door had been slammed shut and padlocked. We were devastated.
I was still sick, and tired, but not as much as before, obviously.
The day came for the confirmation scan. The best news considering the situation would be that the miscarriage had been what they call "complete", and I would need no further treament.
We were shown into the room by a very quiet, nervous sonographer - maybe they knew we were here
for confirmation of bad news and that was why they seemed nervous?
He started the scan, seemed to be having a good look around, entering things by the keyboard and pressing buttons. After a few minutes he turned the screen to us and said - "Yep, there we go, one lovely baby with a nice strong heartbeat!"
There must have been some mistake. But, there, in black and white was an image of a baby. I told him what we were actually there for, and he looked confused as he re read our notes. He explained that he WAS actually newly qualified, but there is definitely a baby with a heatbeat, but said if we wanted he would go and get his superior to give a second opinion.
But would we mind if he stayed for the second opinion because he'd never head of anything like this before?
He scapered off, leaving the freeze framed image of a baby on the screen facing us. This has got to be some kind of joke?! I KNOW what I saw when I was in the bathroom, but I was starting to doubt myself.
Before long, in breezed another white coat, and she started the scan again after reading our notes. She explained to us in great detail what she was seeing.
She asked if there were any twins in the family (there isn't) because she could see that I had been carrying twins that were sharing everything-even the placenta- because of some area of the placenta that she said looked abnormal. She explained that she needs the doctor to speak to us after the scan, but there is definitely a baby in there, of approximately 14 weeks gestation.
I asked for a picture, which they agreed to, and the sonographer actually echoed what the newly qualified guy had said. She HAD heard of this happening, but had never personally seen a case. She explained it is actually quite common for a twin pregnancy to be first thought of as a single pregnancy because sometimes one baby can be hidden by the other.
We left the room and waited to be see by the doctor. We were in shock, again. What a rollercoaster journey we were having. I was too shocked to cry or even react.
Finally we were called through, and the doctor began to talk....it wasn't the straightforward good news I was hoping for.....
The doctor explained that it looks as if the two babies were indeed sharing a placenta, which had been damaged due to the loss of the first baby. This meant that there was a very real danger of baby number 2 also miscarrying - especially as I was still having loss from the miscarriage the week before. So, we had completely bittersweet news. First I was pregnant, with what we thought was one baby, then I miscarried, then we were told we had been carrying twins, but that this baby may also be lost. This was unreal. What the hell had I done to deserve so many baby losses???
I was prescribed complete bed rest, and appointments made for future regular scans, but the assumption was that this baby would miscarry before I was 6 months pregnant. They gave me an "alternative" option of terminating the pregnancy "to save any further distress" which I found to be a complete contradiction in terms - and whose distress were they talking about?!
Wow, I honestly didn't know what to say to people, or how to explain it. First we were having difficulty getting pregnant, then we managed it, then we miscarried, but actually, no, surprise! We are actually still pregnan