I never imagined that the first time I’d see my first ever baby she wouldn’t be alive.
Laying in a dimmed room, in the illumination of the monitor, I saw my baby, like a little sleeping hippo, cocooned in the safety of my belly. But she was still. Suspended in time, no heart beat from the motionless shape on the screen. In a moment my life’s hopes and dreams had been snuffed out.
Thinking I was 9 weeks due, my little hippo had quietly slipped away at 8+3 days. I was expecting to see her for the first time but only her shadow waited for me.
I was told this is what you call a missed miscarriage. My body, still assuming a baby to nurture, carried on being pregnant, feeling sore and delicate, unknown of the fact the life within had silently moved on.
I cried while the scan probe was still inside me. Vulnerable, I wept with my heart hollowed out, broken with grief and embarrassment for failing. While I’d spent the weeks preceding stressing about pain and negligible worries, the line had been drawn in the sand.
Through tidal waves of emotions I’ve felt sadness, emptiness, failure and grief. I’ve felt guilty and angry, bitter that it had to happen to me. For all my imperfections, why was another woman more deserving than me?
The cruel reality of my miscarriage has felt like a lifetime in limbo. Waiting for the painful inevitable – the cramping and blood that wouldn’t deliver a healthy baby but bid farewell to a life cut short, in agony and a wash of tears.
Had I bled during my weeks leading up to the scan I may have doubted all was okay, even expected the shock yet to come. Instead everything about me said I was still pregnant after the scan revealed the end.
I’m not pregnant. I’ve not yet miscarried. It’s like dying and being stuck in the tunnel.
But, like season drifting into season, it’s now time for me to say goodbye. The constant gnawing grows each day as I draw closer to the finish line. It hurts. I don’t know if I’ll see anything of a little life but I pause and ponder each time I shed away.
My tiny miracle didn’t work out how I expected but I don’t doubt the reasoning of her existence. She was hope and brought hope for the short time we had her, and while I struggle with the raw reality of grief, God gave me Hope to believe that life can change, does, and will again.
**This blog post has been nominated for a UK Blog Award!