It isn’t something I speak of a lot, particularly since the death of our 5 week old, my heart hasn’t been lost for the early miscarriages I’ve had before or after her.  I’m not ashamed, I just don’t go in to great detail.  I mention them occasionally along side when I write about Melody, mainly because people empathise more with my early losses than with her.  

Seven years ago today I encountered my second miscarriage, my first one with my now husband.  We’d only been together 6 months.  I was concerned about telling him. But I didn’t need to be.  I’d told my close friends at the time, the sickness had already begun to creep in, nothing major but there was certainly constant nausea. 

Although the shock was there we soon got used to the idea, we’d manage.  It’ll be OK.  

But of course it would be indeed very short lived.  When I was getting ready for work, a night shift at the hospital as it happens, when I had awful stomach cramps.  Nothing I’d ever really felt before, I could barely stand.  We decided to call an ambulance, not something I would do lightly, but I couldn’t move.  

I was put into the ambulance my friend took the children to their grandparents’ house.  John managed to get there before the ambulance left.  We weren’t living together at the time.  

 I wanted to share the memories I have of what would have been our first pregnancy together.  Because although the ending isn’t all what it’s cracked up to be,  it does make me smile and it’s worth a memory. Because with these things it’s all we have.  

I was given gas and air in the ambulance, something I’d never had before, not even when I laboured with my eldest daughter, although I do wish I had.  

It was the most surreal experience,  I don’t fully remember the journey but do remember A&E.  

At the time I was a member of staff,  not in A&E but in the trust.  

As we sat in the cubicle,  I was higher than a kite on the beautiful gas and air, when it suddenly dawned on me,  *in the time we had been waiting in this cubicle ‘they’  had built a wall behind me, whilst I was there waiting to be treated, what fucking liberties, just because I was an employee of the trust it didn’t mean they could do fucking construction work whilst I was waiting.  I couldn’t have possibly been pushed through the wall into this cubicle it HAD to have been built whilst I was there… 

Of course I didn’t believe my partner (now husband)  that I had arrived by normal means, there was no new wall or building work being done.  I had indeed been reversed into the space, like everyone else. 

The Gas and Air was not long after confiscated.  

Only then did I wish it hadn’t when admitted onto Gynae ward,  was a junior (male)  doctor I’d been working with for three months –  to do my internal..  

If only I’d been knocked out for that part! 

It’s a daft story but it is a memory, a first piece of mine and hubby’s parenting journey together , albeit not successful.  

I like sharing it, because it turned a shit experience for me into something a little lighter.  Or should I say, lighter than air. 

All memories no matter the size or how others see them are yours and such an important part of your story. 

Never be afraid to share the silly ones, because they’re not just silly to you.  
 
The Wet Wipe Diaries