I’m not a medical professional but I knew something wasn’t right

The saying mother knows best has always been something I’ve attached myself to, as my own mother always knows best. In my situation I knew something was wrong but was made to feel like I was just an anxious first-time mum. I had a very turbulent pregnancy and visited the EPU a couple of times due to bleeding, and was found to have a subchorionic hematoma

On Tuesday 23rd January I had pain in my lower bump, and was being violently sick, struggling to keep down any fluids. At around 11pm I noticed I was bleeding. We went straight to emergency gynaecology and I explained my symptoms and they asked me to do a urine sample. I explained the pain and that I was bleeding and the sickness was different to the sickness I had previously. Due to the serve dehydration, I was unable to provide much of a sample. The Dr came back and explained I had signs of a potential infection and that they would give me antibiotics to treat it. I again explained about the bleeding and how the pain was different from a UTI. The Drs response “I’m 99.9% sure that your baby is ok and the blood isn’t coming from the baby and it’s because of the infection”. I was sent home to rest and take the antibiotics. I’m not a medical professional but I knew something wasn’t right but I felt I was wasting their time, especially being told by another member of staff that most first-time mums are anxious. My mum wanted me to stay in and be monitored but she didn’t want to undermine the staff on the ward.

A year on I can’t stop seeing that image and feeling so scared and helpless. I was on my own

The next evening the pain became a lot worse, my partner was working away in Italy so I was on my own. I didn’t want to bother anyone after being told everything was ok and it was normal to be anxious. That night after trying to soothe the pain with a bath at 12.30 I felt a pop and I thought I had wet myself, within minutes my little baby was born on my bathroom floor. Our baby was alive when born but due to how early it was, stopped moving and breathing within minutes.

A year on I can’t stop seeing that image and feeling so scared and helpless. I was on my own, unable to get to my phone. I just screamed for help hoping a neighbour would hear me. I finally managed to crawl to my phone holding my baby who was still attached by the cord. I was able to call my parents and then 999. My mum with the guidance of the call handler helped me deliver the after birth, there was a lot of blood. I continued to lose blood and felt very weak. An ambulance couldn’t get to us as there was a wait, so my dad had to drive us to the hospital 30 minutes away. I walked into A&E with my baby in a towel still losing blood.

We have had 6 months grieving our little boy, we were told by professionals our baby was a boy.

We were told that I had given birth to a baby boy. We called him Archie, had a funeral for him, his memorial is in the name of Archie and we have grieved a little boy. Having waited 6 months already I had to chase information on the post mortem as I was told it would be around 12 weeks (I fully understand the strain on the NHS and knew it might be a little longer). It wasn’t until I had the courage to go to my first group support session with the bereavement midwife that she managed to push this. She informed me the results were returned a number of weeks prior and I should have been contacted. On top of that, the results show that Archie was in fact a little girl. We have had 6 months grieving our little boy, we were told by professionals our baby was a boy. We had named him Archie you can’t just flip a switch to change that.

I’m almost a year on and despite counselling through the amazing charity Petals (NHS wait was too long) and going back to work and putting on that brave face for everyone, I still sob every day. I relive that moment on my own every day. The outcome may not have been different but if they had listened to me and my mother’s instinct something was wrong, maybe I would not have been alone. I, like many other women have been let down because not enough is done to support women’s health. More needs to be done. 1 in 4 is too high of a statistic and realistically it’s probably higher.

It is a word that cannot be understood without experiencing its cruelty.

Whilst I had heard the term miscarriage, I never really understood the true significance of the devastating physical and emotional pain it has on an individual. Now having gone through my experience, I understand why people do not talk about it. It is painful. It is lonely. It is frightening to navigate. It is a word that cannot be understood without experiencing its cruelty.

On Saturday 29th April 2023, not long after our dating scan, I was awoken in the early hours by what I can only describe as waves of pain that intensified minute by minute. As the pain increased, blood followed. Not truly understanding what was happening, I called 111. They advised me to visit A&E due to a potential miscarriage.

I stood, but could not move. I knew my baby was being held from the ground by my clothes.

Upon arrival, I was directed to remain in the waiting area. As time passed, my condition significantly deteriorated and I was in a tremendous amount of pain and very distressed. I was also heavily bleeding which was obvious and becoming uncomfortable to all those around. I wailed in pain, pleading for help, as I felt like I needed to push. My partner visited the front desk 3 times to discuss possible pain relief and after 70minutes I miscarried which coincided with my name being called by triage. Shock hit me like a wave. Though it was chaotic around me, I heard nothing. I stood, but could not move. I knew my baby was being held from the ground by my clothes.

A nurse asked me to sit down, but knowing something large and warm was in my underwear, I trembled I couldn’t. The nurse then walked me through A&E to the nearest toilet. Whilst being in the toilet, I held the sac with the fetus inside, in its complete entirety, not knowing what to do. I looked outside for the nurse but she had gone. I waited, holding the warm sac in my hands, knowing I had lost our baby. When the nurse turned up, I asked her what to do and she came back with a container.

I then returned to triage, still soaked in blood. I waited for a consultant who examined me with my partner’s phone torch as she didn’t have the appropriate equipment. She was short and abrupt and told me my cervix was still closed and hopefully the baby would be ok, despite already passing the full sac. After I explained I had passed the sac in its entirety, she said ‘no baby, you will need to do a pregnancy test in three weeks and if it’s positive ring this number’ and she handed me the early pregnancy unit contact details and left. Soon after, a nurse asked to take my bloods. These were done and I was moved to a small area. My phone rang around 20 minutes later – my partner answered and it was the gynaecologist saying my bloods were fine and we could go home. As I was walking out, I saw the nurse who I had handed over the sac/foetus to. I asked her what we should do with the foetus. She said we could send it for testing but … and then she shrugged her shoulders. I never saw our baby after that. To this day, I regret not walking out with our baby. That haunts me.

The EPU were extremely empathetic and could see how affected I was by this traumatic experience.

Days later, I was still experiencing pain, so I rang the early pregnancy unit for advice. They examined me, and told me the placenta had not been passed and spoke through my options. Having shown the nurse a photograph of the sac/baby, the nurse explained that I had a labour like experience as my cervix would have had to dilate for my body to have passed the sac in its entirety, which is why I was in a huge amount of pain. The EPU were extremely empathetic and could see how affected I was by this traumatic experience.

I wouldn’t wish for anyone else to experience what I experienced. It has taken time for me to be able to talk about this, and I believe that whilst we never completely get over our grief, brighter days come when we can talk about our experiences together. We should never feel alone.

Related podcast episode

S8 E32 : First Trimester Loss, Finding your Tribe, and Supporting the Miscarriage and Baby Loss Community

Resources

*Tommy’s miscarriage statistics