Tommy’s #misCOURAGE campaign

I am not feeling courageous today, not one bit.  Just one week ago I was sharing a cup of decaff with my Dad and telling him the news that he was to be a Grandad again.  Today I am back in hospital to view my now empty womb on the ultrasound  screen.  I have been here before in very different circumstances, the explanation of which would mean giving up a huge part of me, a part of me I am not ready to speak about publically yet.

Rewind one week and you would have found myself and my husband ecstatically happy, happier than we thought possible.  For me this is marriage number two and most certainly a case second time lucky. So very lucky.  I met my husband at a low ebb in my life and though he didn’t know it at the time he played a huge part in my finding myself, not again but for the first time.  Together we are blessed with the most amazing synergy, each possessing the strengths that the other lacks.  Romantic notions I guess, but for some years now we have felt like two halves of a whole.  Lacking nothing, we nonetheless decided that having a family would bring us nothing but joy, and started trying three years ago.

Those two pink lines were met with more joy than a winning lottery ticket.  When else does something you just peed on get such a reaction?  Over the proceeding weeks we prepared to become parents, something we had started to worry would never happen.  In our magic pink bubble I would read what our baby was doing each day.  When she developed four chambers in her heart, when she grew fingers.  My belly also bloomed and my modest bump gave us something to worship, to stroke, to cast all of our hopes and dreams upon. We had it all.

Until we didn’t.  Until the spotting became bleeding, which became heavier and heavier. Calls to professionals soothed our fears initially until I knew.  I knew that a body losing this much blood could not possibly be sustaining a healthy baby.  That’s what she was a week ago, our baby.

Today my empty womb will be scrutinised to see if I need a D&C.  I cannot even begin to write down what that means.  Describing the process to my husband I used the phrase ‘clean out the tissue’ because I couldn’t bear to really tell him in so many words what the cold, clinical, yet routine procedure would really mean for us.  It’s everyday.  It’s common.  It’s miscarriage.

But for today we will cry for what might have been, and then prepare to try again.  A particularly cruel life lesson, but one that so many of us have to learn.  This is why I am posting today, and I will post again, in support of Tommy’s #misCOURAGE campaign.  We need to end the silence around the subject, and for me that starts now.


10 thoughts on “Tommy’s #misCOURAGE campaign

  1. Vicky you are a constant inspiration to me. Your inner and outer beauty. Your inner and outer strength. I am so sorry that this has happened to you, that it happens to any couple. I am so very very sorry.

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