This is a really difficult entry for me to write. On the 5th August we announced to friends and family that we were pregnant. We hadn’t told anyone we were trying to conceive because of the fact that I’m now 43 and we didn’t think we could get pregnant let alone so quickly. It only took us about three months which I guess is pretty good considering we had been using birth control for eight years. I always felt after our youngest was born that I needed just one more child, always felt one was missing. Maybe my biological clock was ticking, maybe it was the fact that having our fourth child was pretty much as a near perfect experience as it could be.
Anyway, so we got pregnant and excitedly awaited our first scan in the middle of August. The talk from the instant we knew about the pregnancy was twins. People thought I was crazy when I spoke about the babies, expect one friend who teased me endlessly about the fact that there could be twins. The joke turned into reality at our first scan. There was indeed two babies! However from the outset it was obvious that one twin was a little smaller and a little slower than the other. We saw clearly twin A, she was brilliant from the start. Twin B showed signs of life, but despite that there was a shadow of doubt. A second scan reassured us a little that twin B was still there but again he was still measuring small and slow.
When we were due to go for our third scan on the 9th September I was nervous. Something was upsetting me but I didn’t know what, assumed it was just the fear of losing the small twin. Nothing prepared us for both twins being dead. It took the wind from our sails seeing both babies motionless on the screen, our dreams crumbled right before us. The buzz, the excitement that us and our children shared just gone in an instant. My life as it were would never be the same.
So ‘they’ the hospital advised us to wait a week and see if the twins would be miscarried without assistance. I knew they wouldn’t but had to go through the motions anyway to keep everyone happy. A week on, yet another scan showed no change and no signs of the twins coming away, they wanted to stay in my belly, with their mummy, forever. It was so difficult, there was me with my pregnant round tummy containing two dead babies.
The following morning, now eight days on, I was given misoprostal or cytotec as it’s commonly known. I took four of those darn pills and went home to miscarry. Hours later I took to my bed with incredable pains, after giving birth naturally four times I could describe these pains as being harder than labour. A short while later I started bleeding. Miscarriage sucks let me tell you. The bleeding didn’t stop, and the pain got worse as time ticked by. A while later the bathroom floor was covered in red and I was getting weak. My husband called the hospital, next thing I knew I was in an ambulance with sirens and flashing lights and my blood pressure dropping to an unsafe level. They worked for five hours to stop the bleeding, I was pretty much just laying there staring into space … horrible. They had a theatre ready for surgery, I had panic that I was going to be left unable to have more children, it scared me. The surgeon came down to see me in resus and decided I was too ill to move, as I was bleeding profusely, and she ended up removing the babies there and then without anaesthesia. That moment, the pain, it will never leave me.
Now, I am sad, every day I cry. My husband and I are going to try again for another baby, we had set out to have a child. Getting pregnant again will not replace my twins but it will out us on the path to feeling joy again, can you understand that?