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goodbye angel

I guess by writing this it is my way of not letting go of my unborn baby, but accepting that on the 7th December I’m not going to give birth and in years to come I’m not going to be celebrating birthdays. So here goes.
I found out that I was pregnant on the 6th March. If I’m being honest at the time I thought it was the worst day of my life. I was scared. I was only 17 and not in a relationship. I had always thought that I wanted to go to university, become a teacher THEN have children. A baby at 17, that wasn’t part of my “plan”. I hadn’t got a clue what I was going to do. In the space of 3 minutes my life was turned upside down.
My head was a complete mess. I didn’t know if I should keep the baby or get rid of it. My head was saying get rid of it because of what I wanted out of life and my heart was saying keep it because deep down I didn’t think I could have an abortion; after all I had always said I couldn’t… my heart won. Yeah my life was about to change so dramatically but I knew it wouldn’t be ruined; I wanted to be a mum to my baby.
4th May; I had my first scan at 9 weeks. The sight of seeing my baby on the screen was one of amazement and beauty. You couldn’t make out any features yet so it was really just a smudge, but that smudge with its little heartbeat was my baby. It was at that moment that I really knew I loved my baby. 7.12.11, what was meant to be the most amazing day of my life; my due date.
I was so happy. I started planning my future around the baby. Put uni on hold, take a year out. All that kind of stuff. I knew that soon I could start buying clothes and preparing to be a mum. Me and a friend nicknamed the bubba “wiggles”. I don’t know why but I guess it sounded cute. Another friend started planning the baby’s first holiday. I could already tell that this little’un was going to be one spoilt baby. It was going to have 100’s of mummies. 
Before I never really looked forward to my future, it was nothing exciting but now I was looking forward to everything that was to come. I look at it now and think if only I knew what was only around the corner.
I got to about 12 weeks when I started bleeding. I didn’t think too much of it as I had heard that it was quite common. However I started getting worried when stomach pains were a regular occurrence. Then I woke up in the night with very heavy bleeding and extreme pain. I knew what it was deep down I just didn’t want to believe it until I was told. Then it was confirmed I had had a miscarriage. I don’t recall much more of that day; nothing that was being said was really registering. All I could think was my baby is gone. My life had yet again been turned upside down.
To this day i still feel anger, emptiness, overwhelming sadness, confusion. I guess they are the main emotions. It’s been six weeks since my little one left me and went to be with the angels but each night I still shed tears and I think I always will. Each night I share my day with Ba’ and then send a kiss up to the stars as I prepare to dream about what should have been.
Unanswered questions constantly float around my head. Was I to blame? Was the miscarriage my fault? Should I have done things differently? I know I will never know what caused me to miscarry, the not knowing hurts so bad though. These unanswered questions are going to be with me for the rest of my life.
At 12 weeks people may not really class that as a baby. But that smudge was my baby. It may not have had a name but it was meant to have a future and that had been cruelly snatched away. I guess until I had the miscarriage I didn’t realise how much I actually loved my baby. I think the sense of loss that I feel could be compared to that of losing a loved one you have known all your life because that is what it feels like. There is emptiness in my heart and in my future that my little’un was meant to fill.
In the space of a couple of months my future has changed dramatically, twice. I’m no longer going to be a mum in the December, and I’m never going to be able to celebrate my baby’s birthdays in years to come. The 7th December will always be our day though, just not the way I would have hoped for. I’m no longer going to be able to buy baby clothes and this future that I was planning around my baby is no longer going to happen.
I find myself wanting to sleep and never wake up, that isn’t because I don’t want to face tomorrow but because when I sleep I dream, and when I dream I still have my baby, and when I have my baby I am happy again. Reality kills when I wake up.
I’d give everything up this instant if it meant that even for only 1 minute I could hold my baby and look into her eyes. That image of that beautiful smudge with a heartbeat will always be mine even if my special little baby can’t ever fully be.
Right now each day is the same, wake up, cry, force myself to keep busy, and then cry myself to sleep, I guess the good days will come around again soon, and bubba will always be a part of those good days.
Who knows what my future has in store for me. I certainly didn’t realise my little’un was around the corner and although I didn’t get my happy ending I was so happy and I know that I can reach that happiness again in my life with wiggles right there with me. If you had asked me 12 months ago what I wanted to be when I was older, I would have said a teacher. If you ask me that same question now, I will reply saying “I want to be happy”.
The impact that bubba has had on me is incredible. She has showed me that I have to keep on fighting, even through the darkest of days. And the light at the end of the tunnel is my precious little angel shining brighter than anyone. She is making me into a better person, and for that I am so grateful. She will forever give me strength, she will forever give me hope, she will forever give me courage and she will forever give me love.

Losing my babies

I met my first love when i was 15, he was 19. I always thought he too old for me, and i guess i was right. I fell in love and i believed he was too, so we had sex. Unprotected sex. So i was no shock when i found out i was pregnant. I thought my boyfriend was going to leave me because we had only been dating for 3 months, and i was right. He never said a word to me after i told him i was pregnant. In fact i havent seen him since.

After i found out i was pregnant, i only told my best friend and my mom (and of course my boyfriend). My best friend supported me but told me i should think about getting an abortion. My mom felt the same way, but understood if i didnt want ot have one. She was a single mother herself at the age of 23, so she sorta understood what i was going through. I decided not to get an abortion. And at 16 weeks pregnant i found out i was having a baby boy. I was thrilled and was going to name him Liam Price ***** ( i wanted him to have the same laast name as my ex, in hopes that he would change his mind).

However carrying a pregnancy to full term at 15 was not really going to be the case for me. I started to get really bad cramps at 13 weeks pregnant but i thought it was just normal for that to happen, it wasent. Soon after i found out the sex of my baby i noticed a weird brown spotting in my underwear. Not to long after that i lost my baby.

I was devistated. I cried all the time, and i felt guilty because i blamed myself. When my best friend found out what had happened she told me i should be happy because i wouldnt have to deal with a baby at 15. That's how most people reacted. My mother was there for me though, and she said maybe it was ment to be. So instead of crying about it, i pretended to be happy. And in less than 3 weeks after it happened i had started going to school again. And life went on.

Soon i was in my senior year of high school and i was pretty happy to be graduating. I was happy to move on to college and to start a life. Me and my boyfriend had plans to get married that summer, right before college so we could live together (his parents didnt believe in living together before marriage). About half way through my senior year, i found out i was pregnant. Me and boyfriend were thrilled about it since we had wanted kids, but not until we graduated college. I told my moma dn she told me she was happy for me, but i knew that she secretly wasent. His parents were horrfied because they had no idea we had been having sex. My mother knew but she assumed we were being careful.

I was a little worried about this pregnancy because i had miscarried my other baby. When i asked the doctor he said i should be fine, and there was nothing to worrie about. So me and my boyfriend moved on and were finnishing our senior year. And at 20 weeks pregnant i learned i was pregnant with to baby boys. I was really happy, but my boyfriend started to seem less and less happy about the situation. I picked out the names for our sons because my boyfriend told me he didnt care. We were going to name them Bentley Andrew Smith and Ayden Price Smith. I used the middle name of my lost baby because i wanted to remember him somehow.

At 23 weeks pregnant, a month before graduation, my boyfriend left me. He said he wasent ready to be a dad, and that he might not be the father because i had been pregnant before with someone else's baby before getting pregnant with his. Basically he was calling me a slut. I was heart broken. pretty soon i relized i couldnt raise to babies on my own while trying to go to college, so i decided to give them up for adoptption. Bentley and Ayden were born at 35 weeks pregnant via C-section. I never saw my boys nor did i ever meet they're new parents but that is how i wanted it.

I am now 19 and getting ready for my second year of college. I don't talk to me ex-boyfriend, since i changed the college i was going to. Soon after i left home for college my mother moved to New York so now visting home isant anywhere near him. He tried to contact me, and he did, because my friend gave him my new number. I never told him about giving our boys up for adoption. I don't feel like he deserves to know. He assumes i live my my mother in New York, and i let him believe that.

I wanted to share my story because i know how heart breaking it is to lose a baby. I was young when i got pregnant, both times but somehow i found a way throught it. When i lost Liam i thought about how i would have a baby one day. When i got the chance to have that baby i wanted so badly i realized i was being selfish. I know that the twins i gave birth to are no longer my babies and i know that they will be much happier with their parents, who had everything they need to be a parent.

Heather Smith

OMG

I am 16 years old and i am get a job and 6 months ago i found out that i was pregnant my friends were over the moon about it but when i told my family they packed my bags and told me to go and live somewhere else because they didn't want me no more.
So i went to ilve with my boyfriend Liam he was over the moon and so was his family, but on day when i went to school i miscarried and i didn't know what to do i didn't want to tell my boyfriend or his family becuase they was so pleased for me and my friends. So i went to the school nurse and i told her she told me that we would get though it together and we did and know i have lift school i am 7 months pregnant and me and Liam will be getting married next year. so there is light at the end of the tunnle, you can go to anyone and thy will help you. :)

Becky Plumb

Why does this happen to so many women?

My partner and I of 5 years were trying to get pregnant for over a year with numerous pregnancy tests and checking of symptoms on the internet it just never seemed to happen and I thought there was something the matter with us.

I would see babies everywhere and someone you knew was always getting pregnant it was devastating to watch and each month with that little cramp twinge I would be crying and feel so lonely and let down and the fall would come again.

Then in December 2010 I was few days late and just feeling not normal I decided to take a test I just thought here it goes again I never though but yes the 2 lines showed up and I was delighted.
I never slept all that night, that week me and my partner talked about the baby all the time…what names, Prams, I even looked online at baby stuff clothes etc Just never thought anything to happen.

I was only around 6 weeks when I started spotting brownie coloured discharge I thought nothing of it as I had heard of this happening in early pregnancy I left it a few days and it started to get heavier and heavier but still no real bleeding and no cramps…
We went to Tesco supermarket and I felt a rush of blood I ran to the toilet and passed a clot of blood I knew it wasn’t right, I went to AnE and they booked me in for a scan, it was scheduled for a few days time, I knew there was nothing left I could just feel it a sense of emptiness but my partner kept his hopes up and kept saying it will be ok but I just knew.

I went for the scan and they couldn’t see anything they said it might be too early so I went in another room and the nurse took another pregnancy test which showed up negative and my HCG levels she says I would get the results on Christmas Eve.

Ever after all that my partner kept saying it will be ok it was annoying to be honest because I knew there was nothing.

Anyways Christmas eve came and the nurse rang she says my levels were at 30 and I’d had a miscarriage….

How could you be so happy to going so sad, well it was the worst Christmas of my life beside all that happening I had other personal issues with my partner that were killing me each day.

BUT I am now 23 weeks pregnant with a little girl, I got pregnant again pretty much straight away which was better then waiting another year, Each day I am scared and each pain I get worried when I first found out I just kept telling myself this wont last and I am still telling myself that now.

I won’t be 100% till I have my baby girl in my arms.

Women feel this pain there hole life the “fetus” might have only been 6 week old and didn’t even have legs but it was still my child and I’m sure every woman on here felt that way too.

Good luck to everyone out there.

Lauren

A Bond Like No Other

“Hello sweetheart,” I talked to you telepathically within my mind as I gently stroked my belly. “I’m going to be your mummy.” I had only just been given the good news, yet to me already you were a baby growing inside me. Not an embryo. Not cells dividing. Not any other medical jargon. To me you were always a baby. Most importantly of all, you were my baby.

To me it made sense. Rightly or wrongly I believed from the very beginning that you could hear me. We shared my body after all. Although separate, we were in fact one, for you grew inside me; my blood sustaining you as the miracle of life began to blossom inside me. I breathed for you, I ate for you and it made sense to me that until your brain formed properly and you were able to think for yourself, my thoughts were our thoughts.

Maybe you couldn’t hear me. I’ll never know for sure, but women are always warned how stress can affect their unborn children. So while you might not have been able to hear, it seemed reasonable to me that if you could feel my stress you could also feel my emotions. If I put my heart and soul into whatever I was telling you, you might not understand my words but you would feel the sentiment behind them. You could feel my love like a warm embrace as it wrapped protectively around you while you grew.

I spent three blissful weeks talking to you, loving you, making plans with you; promises for the future that we would soon share as soon as we welcomed you into the world. I never once stopped to consider that something might go wrong. I wasn’t being complacent; it wasn’t that I didn’t think it couldn’t happen to me, it was simply that I never once considered that I wasn’t going to go on to deliver a healthy and happy baby. As far as I was concerned you were meant to be.

Until the fateful day that the faintest tinge of pink stared up at me from the previously untainted toilet paper. My stomach dropped, you must have felt it too. “Okay,” I told myself as I drew a shaky breath, “Don’t panic.”

I knew any stress I might feel you would feel too, so I concentrated on the positives instead of dwelling on any possible negatives. Maybe that was naïve of me but I knew of women who had bled throughout their entire pregnancies yet went on to deliver perfectly formed little bundles of joy. However I also knew I needed to check it out as soon as possible; just to be sure.

My doctor was fully booked so I went to a 24-hour clinic. I told the Doctor what had happened and without examining me he told me that all first time mother’s experience paranoia and to just go home and forget about it. I couldn’t.

A seemingly endless night awaited me before I finally saw my own doctor the following morning and she did her best to reassure me that my spotting didn’t necessarily mean the beginning of the end, but she did agree that I was right in wanting to know just what was going on with my pregnancy. She did warn me though, that if I had an ultrasound it would give us the answers that we craved be they good or bad. A good result would ease my mind I told myself, still believing everything would be fine and within an hour I was at the hospital having my first ultrasound. Unfortunately because of the haste in which the ultrasound happened, your Daddy didn’t have time to leave work and get to our appointment so it was just you and me.

I was nine weeks pregnant. You were 4 mm long. Nothing prepared me for that ultrasound. Nothing could have. What I saw and what I felt is forever etched into my heart and mind. I saw a fuzzy image of you looking more like a grain of rice than a baby, but most importantly I saw your heart such a small dot on the screen beating so strong and steady. That image enchanted me; it made you more real to me. Though many do not believe you were really a baby that I lost, that image validates to me that you were not a figment of my imagination and that my loss was real for you were tangible not some untouchable dream.

With my ultrasound results in hand I returned to my doctor. She read the report and told me that although you were slightly smaller than expected, they had put my dates down to being eight weeks pregnant instead of nine; everything appeared perfectly normal with no cause for alarm. “Don’t worry my love; everything is going to be just fine,” I told you serenely.

The spotting continued. So slight it could not possibly be sinister yet it served as a simple reminder of the fragility of life. However I found myself taking things very easy all the same. I was still spotting when I went to my first appointment with my obstetrician.

I remember the feeling of relief flooding my system when she welcomed me into her office like an old friend. She told me how happy she was to be able to part of my journey as the miracle of life unfolded inside of me. She was so reassuring, she fooled me into thinking I would be in safe caring hands.

She performed her own ultrasound while I was there and she refused to let me see your image on the screen. Instead she told me matter of factually that she could arrange for me to have a curette performed immediately.

Her warm and caring demeanour was long gone. She was in the business of bringing new life into the world and I could see her discomfort of having to deviate from her usual practise. She was business-like and efficient and I could see that she just wanted me out of there. Her world was one of miracles and joy and in her opinion I no longer had any place in it.

I could not believe what she was telling me. “But nothing’s changed since my first ultrasound,” I told her. “If anything the spotting has lessened,” my voice wavered and tears coursed down my face.

“I’m sorry,” she shrugged looking more embarrassed than sorry. “The embryo just isn’t viable. In fact, I’m surprised that the heart’s still beating. Even so, I can arrange for a curette to be done even while there is a heartbeat.”

“No!” I was surprised by the vehemence of my reply but I could not, and would not agree to the curette while you were still alive.

“We can wait,” she sighed. “Many women in your position choose to wait despite the inevitability of their situation.” She seemed mildly annoyed that I wanted to continue the charade of a happy pregnancy, but I had not given up on you. I’d wanted you too long to give up without a fight.

I went home, feeling disillusioned and alone, but her words had sparked an anger inside of me, which was soon raging out of control like a fire within me. My most basic instincts took over, it was time for fight or flight; I chose to fight.

Where there was life there was hope. Love can overcome all obstacles I reminded us. Medicine might be prepared to write you off so easily but I would not. Instead I took to my bed and focussed all my energies onto you. I was told it would make no difference, but I felt safest in bed, as if we were somehow cocooned away from anything that could hurt us.

I continued to talk to you telepathically. I assured you how wanted you were, how much your Daddy and I loved you. I continued to make plans with you for the life I truly believed you would still have with us. Your first steps, birthday parties, starting school, your first kiss, learning to drive a car; all the things we longed to one-day share with you.


I even returned to my Catholic roots and began to pray. I prayed to God to spare my baby because He knew how loved you would be. I begged. I pleaded. I bargained. I poured out my soul to Him. I promised so many things if only He would allow you to live. And just to cover all my bases, as well as God, I also prayed to the Virgin Mary, mother to mother. If anyone would understand what my baby meant to me it would be Her because She was a mother too.

I continued to talk to you as well. I told you about our family. Our home. Our pets. The love Daddy and I had for you. The life we could offer you, hoping that would spark your survival skills. I told you not to lose hope. To fight. To let me fight for you. To just hold on. For every day you held on you would get a little bigger, a little stronger. If anything out there could save you it would be my love for you.

My wedding anniversary was a couple of days later and the only “present” I remembered receiving was when I got out of bed and went to the bathroom I noticed that instead of spotting there was a patch of angry red blood. I steeled myself for the obstetric appointment I had that afternoon.

I lay on the cold metal bed with a kindly nurse holding my hand supportively as my obstetrician performed another ultrasound. She was distant yet efficient as she worked in silence, unable to meet my gaze. There was so much I wanted to ask her, that I needed to say but I didn’t trust myself to speak without breaking down completely and I couldn’t afford a sign of weakness now. I had to be strong for the both of us.

The obstetrician’s words seemed so cold and clinical as she told me in an emotionless voice “that while the baby’s heart continues to beat, nothing has changed. It is just a matter of time; the embryo hasn’t been viable for some time now.”

How I wanted to scream at her, “That’s not an embryo, it’s my baby.” But I lay there as if mute while the words silently ricocheted around in my mind.

“No!” I finally found my voice and shook my head vigorously as if to emphasise my non-compliance when she once more recommended that it was time for a curette to be performed.

She shook her head and I could hear the pity in her voice when she spoke to me. Not pity because I was losing you, but pity because I was deluding myself to the inevitable outcome.

“If you should miscarry after hours, assuming you last that long, call the hospital directly and they will contact me if necessary. Otherwise ring me this afternoon here at the office,” and she turned and left the examination room effectively dismissing me.

It was the nurse who hugged me and told me she was sorry for my loss but that if there was a bright side in any of this it was that it would soon be over as she reiterated the doctor’s words that by morning you would be gone.

But they hadn’t told you that all was lost and so you continued to cling to life and defy the odds.

Back home I continued to pray to God, the Virgin Mary, Jesus, Angels, a Higher Power. Anyone at all that could hear my prayers; so desperate I was to save you. But most of the time I spent talking to you. Nurturing you, encouraging you, loving you. Willing you to live.

Nothing changed. You refused to concede. You fought to stay. You hung on and I loved you all the more for your fighting spirit. “If you’re tired little one, take a rest and let me protect you,” I would say and I became like a tigress protecting her cubs. I would let nothing harm you. To get to you, death
would have to come past me first. And so we continued to take it moment-by-moment, hour-by-hour, and day-by-day.

I could do this for nine months if that’s what it took.

I had been riding this roller coaster of emotion for 10 days when I finally felt my uterus begin to cramp, yet something told me, some mother’s intuition perhaps, that you were still alive, still striving to stay strong and fight. How proud I was of you, but I couldn’t do it anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I could have fought for you forever, but I wondered how you must feel inside my womb as it began to contract around you. Did it hurt? My heart broke to think of you in pain. I imagined you already weary from your struggle to survive now having to contend with yet another fight. I couldn’t do that to you, or wish that on you. I loved you far too much to ask you to stay for my benefit, if doing so would cause you pain.

“My love, it’s me, mummy again” I began. My brain tried to rebel, to numb itself from this fresh horror, as I knew in my heart what I had to do. Whether I liked it or not I had to do what I felt was right. I hated every second of it but I forced myself to tell you what I was feeling.

“Thank you so much for being my baby, for loving me as much as I love you. For fighting so long and so hard to stay with me. I will love you forever. I will never forget you. You are my baby and will always be a part of me in my heart and in my soul. But I know you must be tired and perhaps now in pain. You know how much I want you here with me, where you belong, but now it’s time for you to make a choice. A choice that only you can make. You need to put yourself first, so I want you to know that if you’ve struggled enough, if the pain is too great, if you decide it’s too hard or you need your soul to be somewhere else I will understand.”

Okay that wasn’t exactly true, I would never understand why this had to happen to us, but I would respect your decision and accept it as best I could. “If the time has come for us to say goodbye, just know that wherever you go a piece of my heart goes with you, as does my love. All I ever wanted for you was your happiness and for you to know how much I love you. Now the rest is up to you. If for any reason you feel the need to say goodbye I will let you go in peace and love but know one day we will meet again and it will be forever.” I don’t really know what happens to our souls once we die, but I needed so desperately to believe that we would be together again. I could not stand to think that this loss would be final; I needed some hope however flimsy to cling too as a way of coping with this waking nightmare I’d found myself in.

Distraught I could not go on. All I could do was fight my near hysteria because I didn’t want any more harm to come to you. I’d tried being as positive as I could but the stress was finally getting to me and I hated to think it was hurting you too. So I cried myself to sleep having placed all my trust in you to do what you felt was right.

I awoke some 4 hours later on the stroke of midnight. Something compelled me to get out of bed, I do not know what, only that my body was on some strange autopilot over which I had no control.

I made it to the end of the bed before you chose the time to say goodbye. In the midst of a crimson sea of blood you made your choice. You were gone.

Instantly I was overcome with hysteria and grief. Soon my mind just went numb and I felt nothing. I never said goodbye when you left. I couldn’t. There were no words, just a river of tears streaming towards the pool of blood you were born far too soon on.

I tried so hard to keep you here out of love and you fought so hard to stay, but in the end it was love that made me let you go. I could not bear the thought of you suffering on my account.

I was told that “time heals all wounds” though I’m not so sure about that. Thirteen years have passed and some days the pain is as fresh as when it first happened, but time has allowed me to learn to accept what we went through together. I still don’t understand it, but I have come to accept it and have finally found peace within myself; though it was a long hard road to get that far.

I don’t regret our experience for a moment, other than the way it ended of course. You made me wiser than I could ever have been without you and you taught me that I was stronger than I ever gave myself credit for. And now when I think of you, instead of crying because you couldn’t stay, I smile because you were here, even if it was only for the briefest moment in time.

Vicki Kay