The Big Dipper

Welcome to a rollercoaster week in the life of a recurrent miscarrier.

I went to bed full of ... well, I was going to say high hopes, but I don't ever get that sure about these things, so I shall say ... faith that all was going to be well. I suddenly got struck by morning sickness (at 5.30 in the afternoon), or so I thought.

In hindsight, who knows what that was? Perhaps it was my body pre-empting something it knew was going to happen.

This morning, not even the LGBB's ritualistic calling out to herald the start of her day woke me up. At 6:55, I was instead jolted awake by her being carried in the bedroom by Steve. He gingerly put her down next to me and she whispered, "Guh'morning Mummy" sweetly in my ear. Then patted me hard on my head and smooshed up my hair a bit and yelled "Wake up Mummy!" Then she put her face down next to mine and planted the softest fairy kiss on my cheek. Hey, you've gotta mix up the lurve.

Then just as I stirred (I found it difficult to wake this morning, even including the smacking upside the head), I was struck with a surge of pain. A tidal wave that was nowhere and everywhere. Uh oh. I know this, this is too familiar.

"Damnit," I said to myself and went to the toilet. As suspected, on wiping I found red blood. The nastiest kind: bright red. "Great."

Steve hopped in the shower as I passed him by with a "It's red now" and he tutted and touched my arm lovingly. I climbed back into bed and shut my eyes, the sounds of (that ruddy) Hi-5 theme song filling my ears and the LGBB bopping along to it next to me. I stared at her in the semi-dark. I just made sure I stared at those features, those amazing eyes and the clear, open face, the toussled golden hair. I thought of all those women out there who are still miscarrying and don't have any other baby to hold onto. I was one of those women for years. And I was so hoping this would end my cycle of loss and torment over same.

About five minutes later, another wave of turmoil hit me and I thought twice about trying to hold it in. But not. I was lying on white sheets, after all.

Steve was just getting out of the shower and I asked if we could "swap rooms". I didn't want him to have to stand there towel drying himself watching me expel ... "whatever".

I got the runs then. I was trying very hard not to push at all, half expecting with the pain I was in to lose it all. But no. Only more blood.

So this is the state of play, people. I still don't know. I am spending yet another day in bed with feet up, but first I must do the run to occasional care with the LGBB. I am so very relieved she is going to have some other company today. I am starting to feel ghastly, this feels so very self-absorbed.

More later.