8 February 2017

I did not lose a baby; I know exactly what happened to our baby. I did not "mis-carry" my baby, although I miscarried. I lost a month.

Through the haze of the month we learnt a number of things, the first, and most shocking, was the devastating news that our baby's heart had stopped beating.

What I didn't write in that Facebook post about the people of the NHS was that my husband was not with me when I first heard the news, he was en route, and had a call from me asking how close he was, in between Kirsty telling me she needed a second opinion and that second opinion confirming what was true. I didn't write that Kirsty started to explain things to me but I asked her not to say anything until he arrived. I wouldn't have been able to explain it to her at the time, but I needed not to hear anything that I might need to know, I was afraid of forgetting it. It was not that I didn't want to hear it, it was that I didn't want to forget something important, I needed those back up ears. I actually had to explain to her that I meant for her not to tell me anything about what happens next until he turned up, as she didn't really know how to deal with telling me the news either; I don't think she had had much experience of that side of things before.

We made our way home, parking one of the cars in a residential area near the hospital, where the parking was safe and free. So neither of us would have to drive far on our own. We had planned to go shopping that evening, so we shuffled around the shop, and probably took over 10 minutes just to buy a single pizza (pre-made.) We got home and left it in the oven. Neither of us much felt like eating anyway, so we ate around the black bits.

My mum arrived the following day, and after we picked her up from the train station, we picked up my car for her to drive it home. She was there for the consultant's appointment at the hospital on the Friday, and we went for tea and cakes afterwards. There was a lot of tea and cake that month, to get out of the house.

On the Saturday, we were both starting to come to terms with the news, and still shuffling around like zombies. We chose to go out shopping, not far, but far enough. We looked at kitchens, we looked at things to fill our kitchens, then we went for tea and sandwiches, just to change it up a bit. I don't think we spent more than half an hour in any shop, but we were out and moving. While I can't speak for my husband or my mum, it was really difficult to face "The Public" for me. I knew I was pale and shocked looking (I didn't have the energy to figure out how change my face from shocked to anything else) and I was scared of how strangers would react to that. I have had strangers, in the past, tell me to "Cheer up, it might never happen!" I was scared of if that or something similar was said to me, what my response was likely to be. I formulated responses in my head, just in case, but none of them fit. I had the angry response, I had the sad response, and I had the ignore response; thankfully, I didn't have to use any of them. You see, what could I have said to anyone who was making any comment on my mood? "I have had a miscarriage"? But it hadn't happened yet. "I am having a miscarriage"? I was not currently having one. "I am about to have a miscarriage"? That would have raised all sorts of questions, that I didn't have the energy to respond to. There is no word in the English language for carrying your dead child and waiting for the inevitable. I'm glad that I did not come into contact with the kind of people who feel it's appropriate to comment on other people in that way, I know they are out there, everywhere, but thankfully, I did have that reprieve. Or else they saw me and my appearance sucked all the energy from them to do anything! Emotionally the whole experience was exhausting, before I even got to the physical part.

The medical management of a miscarriage on the NHS in Scotland involves a two stage process, I had to go to Perth Royal Infirmary on the Monday to be given a single pill, that would prepare my body for what was to come. Then, because I was further along than the majority of cases, I had to go to Ninewells Hospital in Dundee for the second part on the Wednesday. I think it was to do with staff knowledge, or resources, I don't know. We arrived on the Monday morning to be told that Dr. Gordon had had to go into surgery, and had not signed off on my medication, so we went to the hospital cafe, for tea and cake. When he was out of surgery, I was given the pill, and it was such a final moment. I was acknowledging, for the first time through my actions, and making a definite choice, to speed the process up. I think until that point I had not truly admitted to myself that it was real, but by taking that pill, true or not, I was starting the process to remove the baby. I dropped it. I panicked then, I didn't want to lose it, to have to wait for another pill to be brought out, I didn't drop it deliberately, but neither did I want to take it. It was explained to me that after taking it, I might "spontaneously mis-carry" a term I didn't much like at the time. The idea of it all happening when I was at home, or out and about, I was terrified.

The Tuesday morning was the first morning I changed from taking the during pregnancy multi-vitamins to the pre-pregnancy multi-vitamins. I had known almost a week. We stayed at home on Tuesday. I started getting cramps on Tuesday night. We didn't sleep much that night. We didn't sleep much any night.

We got to Ninewells, we didn't know where to go, we arrived to the maternity unit, but there's no way in that way. I'm grateful for hospitals being secure places, but I just wanted to get through to get it over with. I was in a very contradictory place in my mind. I wanted to hold on to my baby for as long as possible, and I wanted it out as soon as possible. We met a few people, one who sent us in the wrong direction, and another who brought us to the right place. We were taken to a waiting room, in the gynaecology assessment unit, and shortly afterwards brought through to a private room, where I was given round one of what could have been 6 doses in 24 hours of the medication to start the process. I remember Emma explaining this to me, and explaining that I would be given another dose every 4 hours until something happened. I remember lying on my side as she was inserting the pills, and saying over and over "I don't want this. I don't want this." Although really, I couldn't have faced the other option, of just waiting. After that we were left alone, I was told to ask for more blankets if I was cold.

When a nurse, Kate, wanted to take some blood and blood pressure a short while after the meds were administered, she asked my husband and my mum to step outside to give her a bit more space. That was fine with all of us, but when she stepped out again to get some equipment, she was gone for longer than I anticipated. I text my husband, to ask him if he could ask to return, but when he wasn't coming back fast enough, my fear got the better of me and I started to cry. Another nurse, Lorna, heard me and came in to find out what had happened. She hugged me, she calmed me down, she didn't leave me until Kate came back. I told her I didn't want to be left alone, so she didn't. I'm really glad she didn't, even if it wasn't really her that I wanted there. The morning passed slowly, and I got colder and colder, and asked for more and more blankets. One of the health assistants found a heater, and brought that into my room. Then Kate came in, took my temperature, told me it was far too high, which is why I was cold, and took off all my blankets, took away the heater, and turned on the fan. I understood why, but it was awful.

At some stage I started to have severe cramps, and was really struggling with them; Lorna suggested I take 4 long breaths of the gas and air, so I did. Or, I tried. After number three I started to retch, and I could barely start number four, it was really making me feel sick. So they decided to give me some anti-sickness medication. The fastest acting stuff is injected in your bum, seemingly into one of my nerves that made me jerk away. They had to stop trying for safety, I'm not sure if it was theirs, mine, or both. So I got some oral medication instead. I'm not sure I really needed it, because the only reason I was feeling sick was the gas and air, and if I wasn't taking that, I would have been fine, but in pain.

It was coming close to the four hour point, I wasn't looking forward to the four hour point. The time that they would again have to insert more medication to speed up the miscarriage.

I was still in pain, and Lorna suggested that it was time to push. The thing is, with a miscarriage, because they want to take it all away as quickly as possible, they asked me to use one of those disposable bed-pans on the toilet. So we went into the tiny toilet cubicle, me, Lee, and Lorna. I tried, I really did try to push, but I didn't really think I was ready, I wanted to be, although I knew I never would be. I went back to bed.

It was getting closer to that four hour point, and my waters broke. I hadn't expected that. I felt things moving, and I sat up, and felt the liquid trickling out. I went back to the toilet, just with Lee this time, and made it just in time. We both saw it, our baby. Just for a split second, then he had me look at him. The bell to call staff in was pulled, and Lorna came back, she pulled the bell again, and they helped me back to the bed, as it wasn't coming out cleanly. Dr. Alex had to come in, and help pull out the placenta as I pushed.

When I was pregnant, and excited about things; when my baby's heart was still beating, I had been looking up what was happening every week. By week 12, the placenta is full size, it grows first, then supports the baby's growth. I had a full size placenta to deliver, but it had broken up.

After everything was all cleaned up, the nurses were monitoring my temperature, and told me I had an infection. They had to start me on broad spectrum antibiotics, and keep me overnight. I think a part of me was glad that I wasn't going home. I wasn't ready for it, that would have been another door closing. Monday I closed a door taking that first pill. Wednesday I closed a door going in. I was glad for that tie to my baby that little bit longer. That was my first ever hospital stay, my first overnight admission.

After I had been given some lunch, and was sitting up again, Dr. Roselyn Mudenha came in and spoke to us about what to do with the remains. She talked us through the options, and although her buzzer was going off, she took her time to make sure that we understood, and I didn't feel like she rushed us, or rushed away. There were three options for the post-mortem, and we chose to give consent for the one that would provide us with the most answers. There were more options for what to do with the remains afterwards, and we chose to allow the hospital to deal with the remains, but to keep whatever they needed for future research. I think we thought that if there was anything helpful to be gained, we wanted it done. I'm really glad we were given those options, and I'm glad we chose the way we did.

The sudoku book that was bought on the Wednesday, the one that no one could complete a single puzzle, I finished almost two months later.

The bleeding started on 8 February 2017, stopped on 13 February 2017, re-started on 15 February 2017, changed to a very small amount on 17 February 2017, but didn't completely stop until 21 February 2017. By this stage I had been discharged from hospital with a massive amount of oral antibiotics, which killed whatever infection I had, but also gave me the side effect of giving me thrush in what seemed to be every place a person can get thrush. Due to accidentally being prescribed a paediatric dose of oral medication, that lasted until at least 20 March 2017. I think I also let that infection get particularly bad because I didn't really notice it starting, I was in pain, both emotionally and physically, and wasn't really paying attention to my body and to what form that pain was taking.

I went back to work on 7 March 2017. I lost a month. I did not lose our baby.