Dear Olivia. This day has crept on me somewhat. I’ve known it was coming obviously, but what with a busy few months, I’ve parked it at the back of my mind.
You are my fierce, independent girl and 90% of time you don’t need me but I guess you’ve been a bit thrown coming back from our recent holiday. Tonight you couldn’t sleep, and asked me to lye next to you. As I lay there, starring at your warm, little face, the last four years of your life flashed before my eyes. Wave after wave of tears fell, the emotions I’ve been battling with for the last few weeks came out. You have done so much, we have done so much together, we’ve been so busy but the most exciting, challenging bit is yet to come and my heart aches for this change.
You are all I have Olivia, my only girl. You are my world and my heart and tomorrow is such a small but big step for us both. Tomorrow everything changes. I love you x
I’ve had two very different announcements this week. A pregnancy one on Facebook with the standard scan photo, and a text from a friend, telling me about her miscarriage. What a stark difference. How exciting and wonderful for one person, and how truly rubbish and shit for the other. This is sadly just the harsh reality of life. Off the back of this, a thought popped into my head, it’s June. It’s June. This is the month I was supposed to be due, the month I was supposed to have a new baby. How had I forgotten about this, and now I’d remembered, how did I feel about this?
Having told a number of people that we were doing IVF back in September, then experiencing a missed miscarriage in November, it’s safe to say we wanted to be more guarded before we undertook anymore treatment. Too many people knew before, too many people knew we’d be getting a result soon after treatment and that put a huge amount of pressure on me without realising. Knowing we had one frozen embryo to go we decided to do this round in secret – well, it’s not really ‘a secret’ but we made the mutual decision not to tell anyone. Not even close family, which was a big deal for me.
It’s been eight months now since we had IVF – which writing down I actually can’t believe it’s been that long now – and it’s been about five or so months since the miscarriage. Something I keep asking myself, something I keep sitting down to write about and something I keep being asked, is when we’re going to try IVF again? This is a tricky one because at the moment, the simple answer is, I just don’t know *shrugs shoulders*. I feel like the fog of everything that has happened, the fog of winter and the fog of never-ending coughs and colds is finally clearing, and it’s now that I can start contemplating moving forwards. So what do we want to do? Do we want to try again? What happens next?
You’ve had a miscarriage, it’s goddamn awful, horrendous – the most empty feeling there can possibly be, to have been pregnant and then not. And, if you’re anything like me then you’ve read as much as you can bear on various Google searches (read as Mumsnet chatrooms) You’ve read about those women who fall pregnant a month afterward a miscarriage (urgh), read about why it might have happened, the odds, that it wasn’t your fault etc etc. But other than reading things that might drive you a little crazy, what else should you be doing? Well, from my point of view, moving on from a miscarriage has been a slow and steady process. I like to think that I was lucky (ha, I try to find the positive) in that mine happened very early on, and beside my boobs – which were enormous – my body had only just begun to physically change. It’s obviously very different for all women, and no doubt how far along you were is a huge factor, but here are the things that I’ve realised I have had to accept, or things that have helped me cope with this rather horrible experience.