Bec Found Support at Sands

This is Bec's story of miscarriage and how she found support at Sands:

My story started on a day when I woke up and knew I felt different, I was 99% sure I was pregnant. I toddled off to the pharmacy and got a pregnancy test to confirm what I felt to be true.  It was positive. Those two little lines, how cherished they were and are still for this is my only proof that a life existed inside me, however brief it was. 

I remember so vividly the morning I woke up and realised something was not right and when I went to the bathroom my worst nightmare was coming true. As my husband drove me to the doctor I went over everything possible that I could have done to prevent what was happening but in my heart I knew my baby was leaving me.

When I arrived at the doctor’s surgery I had to sit in front of a window across from the triage nurse who so formally spoke. “State your name, date of birth and address…please” .  I looked at her blankly for a moment. Was ‘please’ an oversight?  Or was she tacking it on to not sound as heartless?  I wanted to scream ‘MY BABY’S DYING’.  I was then told to “sit on the chair until you are called” and then finally my name was read out.

I felt vulnerable as every other person waiting on those chairs well knew you could hear everything that was said at the triage desk. The nurse was very frank about matters, “well you are early on and it is probably just a natural abortion”… ‘Excuse me, my body’s aborting my baby so this is my fault.  I’m killing my baby?’  “Oh no” in a jolly old tone ‘it’s just what happens but you can move on, try again!’  Added to this, after hours of waiting, I was told that I would not be seen due to other cases of higher priority.   Was my baby not a priority?  Because to me she was my baby.

The next morning, my doctor did an internal exam and sent me for blood tests and an ultrasound.   Then there was more waiting.  The call came and it was confirmed that my baby had no beating heart, my levels were dropping, and the pregnancy was no longer viable. I hated those words ‘no longer viable’.  I can still hear the doctor saying ‘it was only about 8 to 12 weeks along. You seem to be terminating well. We will follow up with more blood tests and an ultrasound to ensure all the matter is gone. After some rest you can try again’.  No spoken word on my loss, my future, my baby, my love. 

My support following my pregnancy loss was my family, my friends, and of course SANDS. Going through what I now know as a part of grief, I felt guilty for not being able to keep my baby safe, angry at the doctor/nurses for not understanding how their words were so harsh and dismissive and why they could not help my baby.

It has only been after 3 years that I have been able to put into words my story. How I felt and openly acknowledge my loss. I often sit and look at my 3 children wondering what would my baby look like now, or what kind of personality she would have had?  I have taken to calling her Katherine, but I have yet to openly say her name out loud past my room and I still do not know why. But that’s ok.

and it still breaks my heart every time I hear of a stillbirth or other pregnancy loss.  I do not think that even after all the stages of grief I will ever be fully the same, nor do I want to be as the day you left me, baby Katherine, was the day a part of me went with you. I now know that it’s ok to talk and have bad days, especially around her due date, and the day I lost her, but it is easier now than 3 years ago. Though I never saw your face I will always love you.                                                                                                                                                                                      Mum xxx000xxx