When we started trying 5 years ago, after going back and forth over the decision for a number of years, we assumed it would be easy.

Nobody tells you when you’re younger how difficult having a family can be. You get filled with stories of women who weren’t careful and got caught, young girls who weren’t ready, and warnings about how easily you can fall pregnant if not paying attention to contraception.

So, when we started trying 5 years ago, after going back and forth over the decision for a number of years, we assumed it would be easy.

Over the last 5 years, I’ve lost 5 babies through 4 unsuccessful pregnancies. 2 early miscarriages, 1 missed miscarriage, 1 11-week twin loss, and then the heartbreaking decision to end my pregnancy with the 2nd twin due to medical issues at almost 20 weeks.
After 1 loss you hear ‘oh it’s so common’, ‘I know someone who’s had 1 and they’ve gone on to have other children’, and my personal favourite ‘at least you know you can get pregnant’. And to be fair I wasn’t too concerned, so when it happened a 2nd time it was a shock.

…as I was over 35, I couldn’t access fertility support…

Myself and my husband differed on opinions for whether tests should be an option, but after a lot of discussion we went ahead. I was able to access some tests through my GP but as I was over 35, I couldn’t access fertility support so money started beginning to be spent on private specialist tests for both me and him.

This highlighted a higher than ideal thyroid level for me, and queried PCOS which had always been questioned over the years but GPs always differed on giving a diagnosis. After beginning medications, which became another monthly expense, I fell pregnant with twins. By this time, I was under Tommy’s but as I’d since fallen pregnant, they just offered more scans. The 10-week scan was lovely, it was the furthest I’d ever gotten and I remember being so happy after. However, at the 12-week scan 1 twin no longer had a heartbeat. We were heartbroken, but there was part of me that thought ‘we still have one baby’. We couldn’t have the combined test due to the impact the lost twin might have had, but all measurements looked ok.

It’s hard to put into words how I felt, I’m still not sure I can describe it.

When I heard the heartbeat at 16 weeks I was amazed! However it was at this point the combined test was done, and the results came back high risk for Down’s syndrome. 2 weeks and further tests (that I had to pay for) later, I was having an amniocentesis. The consultant at the time discussed concerns over brain development, and 5 days later we were told the Down’s syndrome had led to the brain being not quite in the right place, and not developing. The following days were horrendous as we agonised over the decision before choosing to end the pregnancy based on the information we were given about the lack of quality of life our baby would have.
When our daughter was born asleep when I was 4 days away from being 20 weeks, it’s hard to put into words how I felt, I’m still not sure I can describe it.

It took 6 months to decide to try again, a decision my husband was not fully on board with, and another 12 before I fell pregnant for what we both knew would be the last time.
I’d had the PCOS diagnosis confirmed by then and a plethora of medications I was sure would help. But 2 weeks after the first positive test, I noticed the others (as I was doing a lot for reassurance) weren’t developing, and I miscarried at 6 weeks.

It’s hard to explain the mix of devastation but also relief that I think we both had. Knowing we would not get the family we wanted was hard to digest, but the relief of knowing we were off the rollercoaster was palpable.

there’s not 1 day that I don’t think either about the babies we’ve lost, or question if we are doing the right thing…

It’s been 6 months since we made that decision, and there’s not 1 day that I don’t think either about the babies we’ve lost, or question if we are doing the right thing. But ultimately, I know that I’d reached my capacity with it. My life had become about proving a point, that I could successfully carry and deliver a baby, and I’d lost sight of if it was something I really wanted.

What I try to focus on now is that my marriage came through it all stronger somehow. And having a source of support through TWGGE and knowing that I am not alone is making such a huge transition just that little bit easier.

We planned our lives as a four, talked about the future constantly, and couldn’t wait to meet our little addition to our family.

My first pregnancy went well; no major problems and I was happy and healthy. The thought of miscarriage didn’t even occur to us and we’d practically skipped into the scan room at 12 weeks and enjoyed every second of the scan. My healthy daughter arrived in September 2020 and, although we struggled at times through covid, we knew we wanted another to complete our family.

In December 2021, we found out that I was pregnant again. We were absolutely thrilled and naturally expected a similar pregnancy to last time, as we had no experience of anything else. We planned our lives as a four, talked about the future constantly, and couldn’t wait to meet our little addition to our family. In February 2022, at 11 weeks, I noticed a tiny bit of spotting. I wasn’t concerned as I still had morning sickness and a small bump and felt very pregnant. However, I rang the midwife and asked if I could pull my scan forward by a few days just to ease my mind. Plus, I couldn’t wait to see our baby for the first time! My husband had a meeting in Scotland on the day of the scan and I assured him that he didn’t need to cancel it as all would be fine. I genuinely believed that it would be; after all, why would it not?!

I went into the scan room and got ready and stared at the screen in front of me, excited to see the tiny life form that we had created. After a few moments, the midwife calmly told me that sadly the baby had died at 6 weeks. She explained that my body had continued believing it was pregnant and not miscarried the foetus or sac. I can pinpoint the exact moment that my heart shattered into a thousand pieces. I screamed and collapsed off the bed into the sonographer’s arms.

How could this have happened?

What even was a missed miscarriage?

How could my body not have known and let me down so badly?

How could I have been so naive? The moments after were a blur; I collapsed again in the corridor, had a panic attack, eventually finding the courage to call my husband and parents to tell them that the baby did not survive.

That moment changed my entire mindset of the fragility of life and death. After conversations with the consultant that became one big blur, I found myself on a bed being induced. I was advised of what was to come. I eventually left the ward to finish the ordeal in the comforts of my own home. 6 weeks later, after bleeding for several weeks, and becoming anaemic, I went back in to the hospital to have another scan as the consultant was concerned. To my horror, a miscarriage hadn’t taken place and the induction drugs had not worked. I was now facing surgery. I’ll never forget the fear in the lift on the way to surgery, the face of the anaesthetist, his idle chit chat and the theatre ring light shining brightly above me as I drifted off to sleep.

…you are never ready to go again after losing a baby, but we were brave enough to give it another go.

Fast forward a few months and we decided that we were ready to try again. I say ‘ready’- you are never ready to go again after losing a baby, but we were brave enough to give it another go. In July 2022, I found out that I was pregnant once again. We were absolutely thrilled and kept telling each other that everything WOULD be okay this time and it wouldn’t happen to us again; the chances are too slim.

We had a scan at 7 weeks and it revealed a tiny little life form with a strong beating heart. We were overjoyed and were so positive about the future of this little one. At 9 weeks and 4 days, we had another scan and once again, there they were; wriggling with a strong heartbeat. This is it we thought, all will be well and we can put our loss behind us. At 11 weeks and 5 days, I noticed a spot of blood and I knew. I knew it in my heart that it had happened again but I still hoped. All I had was hope.

We arranged a scan for the next day. Lying on the bed, gripping my husband’s hand, I stared at the sonographer’s face and waited in silence for what seemed like a lifetime. After the longest 30 seconds of my life, I heard the words “I’m so sorry, there’s no heartbeat” and my world collapsed around me once again. I screamed and screamed and sobbed uncontrollably into my husband’s chest. How could this have happened again? WHY us?

The next few hours were a catalogue of consultants and nurses moving us to different rooms and talking to us about what would come next. I just felt numb. The pain, heartbreak and loneliness I felt was indescribable and I wondered if I’d ever feel well again. I begged the consultant for surgery instead of induction and he eventually saw my anxiety and agreed. The last thing I remember was the theatre ring light shining above me once more.

I was so grateful to be pregnant again and to be given another chance, yet so terrified of what was to come; 8 months of waiting, hoping and never-ending anxiety.

\In June 2023, I found myself pregnant again. I remember sitting on our bed holding the positive test in my hand and sobbing. I was so grateful to be pregnant again and to be given another chance, yet so terrified of what was to come; 8 months of waiting, hoping and never-ending anxiety. We were booked in for an early scan at 7 weeks because of our history, and our bereavement midwife was to meet us there. I silently cried in the waiting room out of pure fear, as I sat with, what seemed like, a collection of peacefully naive pregnant women. Eventually I was taken to the rainbow suite while I waited for my scan. As I lay on the bed in the scan room, I watched the sonographer’s face and I knew in that moment that it had happened again.

The words hit me like a sledgehammer; “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat” and I screamed and sobbed into my husband’s arms once more. This time my overwhelming feeling was anger. How could this be happening to us again? What have we done to deserve this?! I went to the bathroom and I punched a wall. I’ve never hated my body as much as I did in that moment. I made my way back to the scan room, where they had to take measurements of my deceased foetus and I just lay there, in silence, staring at the ceiling, feeling nothing but rage.

Later, as we sat with the consultant, I heard the words “we can’t get you in for surgery today; you’ll have to ring every day first thing to see if we can fit you in”. I went absolutely ballistic. How could they make this torture continue by sending me home carrying a dead baby? The consultant was heartless and cold and I’ll never forget her.

…immediate escape from the hell that we were living through, and it briefly felt good.

As we got in the car, the sun was shining and I suddenly felt the urge to feel life. To experience something. To feel alive. We stopped at the river bridge, and jumped in the river fully clothed! I know this sounds like madness amongst all the grief and heartache, but we just wanted some immediate escape from the hell that we were living through, and it briefly felt good. The following days were spent going backwards and forwards into the hospital for blood tests, awaiting surgery. I think the stress was just all too much and I sadly lost this baby in the natural way, with no drugs and at home, 4 days after the scan.

Fast forward to June 2024 and, even though we’re still coming to terms with the losses of our precious babies, in many ways, we’re in a much better place. My husband has dealt with his grief in his own way, and I have focussed on my fitness and mental health, while fighting with severe anxiety and post-traumatic stress. We are happy to settle for our family of 3, and we have moved on from the horror of the last few years. Our daughter is an amazing distraction, and a miracle considering the statistics of miscarriage. We realise how lucky we are now and how naive we were when I carried her – blissfully unaware of the precarious nature of pregnancy and protected from the pain of miscarriage.

I truly believe that we CAN be happy again.

Miscarriage is lonely. Isolating. Devastating. There are so many emotions that come with it, that it’s near impossible to describe. I never realised how powerful hope is and sometimes it is all that we have in situations that we can’t control. I have realised that I am not alone, though. As I talk about my miscarriages to people, it suddenly becomes apparent how many women have suffered with baby loss and how important it is that we seek the support that we need.

Although most women who have experienced baby loss feel that we’ll never be the same person again, I truly believe that we CAN be happy again. And that we will learn to carry the grief of our precious losses in our hearts and build our future around them, whatever that future may be.