I have four happy and healthy children (and in the case of Toby becoming healthier by the day) – as most you bored readers of my blogs will have assessed by now… but I count myself so lucky, as I achieved more than an awful lot of other ladies. I had sixteen pregnancies in total, which culminated in four live births, a still-birth, along with a couple of late-term miscarriages.
I felt a failure at my inability to have children on-cue for my partner and the inlaws – and it had a very damaging effect on my health – as I am discovering now. I desperately wanted my children whilst I was young, at least four – because my Mother had been an older woman and had died before we reached adulthood. I wanted my children to know me, and I wanted to be young enough to kick a ball around with them and see the world through their eyes.
That said, even when I look at the faces of my children as I did this morning when a super photograph came through the post of them together for a moment in time, I can’t help but glimpse the shadows of their siblings on their shoulders.
The tale is torrid and not one I want to dwell on, but I will share some excerpts for you to understand…
In one case, when I was carrying my older son I was advised to have a D&C because I was having a phantom pregnancy – 17 weeks into that pregnancy I was referred to a psychiatrist because I refused to believe the Consultant – who patted me on the head and told me to take some valium.
I ignored him, and went on my own sweetway, working on the theory that constipation sorts itself out eventually – after a few weeks it became clear Josh was a very healthy baby (despite the 12th scan, the one where they were able to at last find him…showing all kinds of limbs and organs missing…).
Somewhere in-between our children, we lost a son at Frenchay. I had a Consultant there telling me what a pathetic young woman I was and how I was wasting everybody’s time with my tales. After the D&C he came back – no apology but confirmed that I had lost a heathy baby boy after all, and left me grieving in a crowded ward. This wasn’t a battle I had wanted to win, and if I had been fit enough I would have thrown something at the man.
When I complained later – I was told it was emotion due to hormones, and I had signed the consent form for investigations to take place….. what can I say.
This all started after my first stillborn was removed without burial or even a photo taken, and my hand was patted, when I eventually awoke from the dodgy anaethetic and I was told to go away and try again… I did after suing the Consultant, but the damage was done. I am A Rh Negative, and I did not have the antibody injection needed to save my Rh positive babies. How unfortunate an oversight, when working out whether love lived with my Partner, I hadn’t asked for his bloodgroup…
So tomorrow – Babyloss Day – I shall light a candle for my lost souls, and my live ones, and thank the Lord for the experience and his kindness in watching over us still. It is a subject which touches an awful lot of people, hidden and painful. It isn’t my dirty secret anymore, and it shouldn’t be yours, thankfully so much is changing in today’s world… only 25 years on…
Share it, and touch someone elses’ lives.
And on a positive note – it gave me the skills I needed today to fight for my son’s care… everything has a purpose.
