Monday 6th October to Friday 10th October 2014: That Was The Week That Wasn't

MONDAY: I thought Sunday was the worst day of my life. Turns out that Monday decided to kick Sundays arse: it was the day I flushed my own baby down the loo. Well, I don't know if I did, but the image will stay with me forever. I will always think I did - whether I did or I didn't doesn't matter I suppose. The pain and bleeding were worse - it clearly wasn't over. Calling the Clinic they wanted me to go back in immediately, or to call an ambulance and go in: why, to be left in a room on my own for 10 hours??? TUESDAY: Was slightly better - I even brushed my teeth and had a shower. Check me out, I am positively civilised. Oh, and I didn't cry! Luckily Mr P is still off work and we have managed to keep all visitors away. We watched films and ate sweets and had ice lollies. It was the best day we have had in 3 weeks. Then I got upset. I saw a tweet made by someone who was pleased that they "survived" IVF and infertility. They also were thankful that God granted their "miracle" and that proves that people who "deserve" it get their miracle in the end. The person was immediately blocked and I went on a Twitter rage! I probably didn't explain myself well, but I will say this: no one deserves this shit, no one is more worthy than anyone else, and no one survives anything - they are just fucking lucky. Our Niece fought cancer twice and passed away the month before her 4th birthday - from that day I have always realised what a crap word "Survivor" is. I don't want to be a survivor, I want to be a warrior! When it comes to God I'm a massive fan, and despite my odd bit of rage I still believe he stuck us all here and leaves us to get on with it until our time comes. I don't want to get into a religious argument, but when their are thousands of innocent people dying and suffering every single minute of the day, people should start realising that God doesn't grant miracles, he gives people strength to continue to fight the good fight. WEDNESDAY: My first visitor! It was my Mum though so that's ok, and it was only an hour. Plus it meant Mr P could go outside and get some air away from the house of misery. She only came for her lunch break, but that was enough to break my spell of solitude. Im feeling better already and even looking at holidays and feeling excited about it. THURSDAY: My second visitor, the mother in law - luckily it was quick and she saved the tears for when she was leaving. I feel guilty though. She said "I don't think you should keep putting yourself through this" and i snapped back "yeah, well it's easy to say that but it's better than the alternative." It annoys me, and I know it shouldn't, but she has two children, a grandchild and another on the way. My parents have me - that's it. FRIDAY: Mr P went back to work today. As soon as his car started and he left I burst into tears. I went for a shower and burst into tears. I think I have finally realised that all I have done this week is distract myself. I have watched enough rubbish films to last a life time: seriously, films about Thanksgiving and a pumpkin growing contest, and I don't even know what Thanksgiving is or what pumpkin tastes of. I have looked at holidays and read reviews. I spent 3 hours looking at the plot lines of films banned in the UK and the rest of the world: Did you know that Schindler's List was banned in Indonesia because it was "sympathetic to the Jewish cause." I have spent hours playing games on my Nintendo DS. I haven't thought about Bubba - until this aft noon when I had a shower and spent about an hour sobbing. My friend asked if I wanted to go out for lunch. I said no, that I didn't feel up to it. She asked if she could come and see me. I said no, I don't want to see anyone. I haven't heard from her since. I never say No. The thought of talking to someone, having to say what happened, affects my plan of coping: ignorance really is bliss. One day I am going to have to stop ignoring reality and realise that this has happened to me and that I'm not ill, I'm grieving. I just prefer to be ill right now.

Sunday 5th October 2014: The End.

****WARNING - Miscarriage mentioned in detail and may be upsetting to some people**** After the confirmation of our missed miscarriage on Friday we consoled ourselves with tears, sweets, Frankie and Bennys, KFC, and lots of films. On Sunday morning we arrived at the hospital full of anxiety. I had prepared well by painting my toe nails, shaving my legs, and making sure my soon to be exposed lady garden was nice and tidy. I had a hospital bag with useful things and a fake smile of confidence on my face. We arrived inside the building and went for a wee - the nerves were bad! Then we started the hunt for the ward. Within two minutes we were lost in the warren or corridors and I thought I had wet myself. Stopping at a nearby toilet I realised I hadn't wet myself, I was bleeding. It was red. There was a lot of it. It arrived within 5 minutes of entering the building. Putting a pad in my pants we re-commenced our hunt. Within 2 minutes blood was running down my leg. We stopped again and I found that it wasn't just blood but also large clots. I added another pad and we again continued our hunt. The tears started to flow as heavy as the blood. Fortunately a lady patient saw me, took one look at me and said "next right, one floor up, turn left." I will forever be thankful to that lady. I felt that she sadly knew exactly how I was feeling at that moment. We arrived on the ward and were told to take a seat in the waiting room - until someone realised that blood was pooling at the floor and that I probably would be better out of the way. I was helped to undress, sat on a pad, and generally really well looked after by a team of Health Care Assistants and Nurses. It was a good job because I couldn't lift my arms and could barely talk. The Doctor came in and examined me. He confirmed that I was probably having a miscarriage but there was no point in testing the material because there was nothing there at this stage of pregnancy. Thanks for that. I was placed in a private room at the end of the corridor away from the women with babies. I was given codeine and paracetamol and big nappies. Every wee had to be examined in a bed pan. I was kept nil by mouth other than sips of water. I was left in peace. The pain was bad, but I have endometriosis, I am used to pain. The bleeding was horrific, it came in waves for a few hours. The clots were bad. My baby was leaving me and my body was pushing him out. A few hours later things got easier. The pain got under control with the codeine. The bleeding slowed. The Nurse said the worst was over - I had lost a lot of blood so it was probably a complete miscarriage. We waited for the Doctor. We waited for a blood test. We waited for a scan. We waited 6 hours and then we had knock on the door - it was was the tea lady and she came bearing gifts: dinner, ice cream, fruit, orange juice and coffee. I told her I wasn't allowed anything - she checked and came back and said "no you can, they said they have removed your nil by mouth status." We ate like we have never eaten before. Then we waited. By the time the nurse shift change had happened we had a new nurse - turns out we had been forgotten. It was too late for a blood test now. It was too late for a scan. We would have to wait until after 10pm for a Doctor: that's 11 hours since we saw a Doctor when we arrived. They were considering keeping me in but I have codeine at home, I have pads at home, I have the X Factor on tape at home. Besides, according to the nurse, the miscarriage was probably over now because the bleeding had settled down and I wasn't crying in pain anymore. They sent me home with an appointment for a weeks time and a number to call if I have any problems. We arrived home 12 hours after we left feeling drained and lost without our tiny little black hole of nothing.