From a young age a lot of Millennials we're taught that sex equals pregnancy. Thankfully, they're teaching the next generation in a much more factual way. They're better educated about the protection to avoid pregnancy, the pill available to eliminate a potential pregnancy, and the help available to them in the case of an unwanted pregnancy.
But not many discuss what happens when a wanted pregnancy just doesn't happen. We hear about an honest encounter of a family that had trouble conceiving.
Nine Tries Later
Having been pregnant, carried babies to term, and successfully had two live births, I knew that my body could do it. Of course, we all know that sometimes things just don't work out and you have to try again. It still doesn't make pregnancy loss easier but my husband and I were no strangers to that.
After the third miscarriage, things got tougher. Harder on my body, and more difficult emotionally and when it came to trying to conceive, the act became more chore-like than fun. It was more purposeful than pleasurable.
For the fourth time, the two pink lines showed up and for the fourth time a pregnancy loss. It was time for medical intervention.
The GP took me through a host of tests, all the blood tests were run and an appointment with my fertility specialist was sought. He decided that it was time for operative hysteroscopy. A procedure many women have, to diagnose abnormal, heavy, or irregular bleeding during the menstrual cycle but also the cause of repeated miscarriage. Sadly, the tests came back inconclusive which meant we were no closer to finding out why our babies just would no longer stick around.
With the advice not to try again for 6-8 weeks, things got tough. More women around me seemed pregnant, more friends were starting their families and a family member became pregnant all at once.
Suddenly a healthy pregnancy seemed impossible.
Still, we decided that having already had children, we would not go down the path of IVF. If we were not able to have another baby naturally, we would find peace with that.
Try and try again
Watching my sister's bump grow and a close friend the same, my husband and I discussed trying again. It had been 12 weeks since recovery and no evidence showed anything wrong. Try again we did and it seemed my body knew exactly what to do to host a baby but when it came to growth, I just couldn't hold on.
The spiral of sadness began. We were up to the fifth miscarriage and by this stage, we had stopped telling people that we had fallen in which meant we had also stopped telling people we had lost another baby. There was no support for either of us aside from each other which, in hindsight was foolish.
Eventually, after more heartbreak, we fell pregnant with what would be the ninth consecutive pregnancy, eight with no result. Both my husband and I agreed that we would not be trying again after this. If this baby didn't stick, we were stopping, destined to have only two children.
My first GP appointment was out of caution. I was eight weeks along and not showing any physical signs of pregnancy. I knew exactly when I fell in and how far along I was but told him otherwise, requesting a dating scan. With pregnancy (and dates) confirmed I went about my day-to-day, scared to dream. We had carried much later than this with no result.
At thirteen weeks we started to think ahead. We decided we'd tell our parents and siblings – this was a huge step but signs of pregnancy were starting to show. Our baby might make it.
With midwife appointments booked for 16 weeks, things were starting to feel real and like they might happen. Our midwife was looking into our complicated history and gave us a theory, one we would hold onto throughout the pregnancy. She and a few of her colleagues agreed that some women just can't cope with the hormones a baby boy produces and it's quite possible I was unable to carry a boy. We had always decided not to find out the gender of our babies and this would be no different. On the midwife's word, I was all but convinced this baby was a girl, we set about starting to dream.
In the twenty-first week, we started to buy all the things again. It had been four years since we had a baby in our home and with the heartbreak we'd been through, we'd sold almost everything, thinking it wasn't ever going to happen. Suddenly there was hope.
Thirty weeks saw me reach an almost debilitating level of pain, suffering a condition I thought I'd never face again. Pelvic instability was back, and my body was crumbling under the weight I had put on.
But I was carrying a baby.
Admitted to the hospital at 36 weeks, no longer able to walk, or take care of myself or our other children, I had no choice. The hospital made the difficult decision to induce me at 37 weeks as I was just too unwell to continue the pregnancy.
19 hours later a baby boy was born.
Many families go through so much heartache trying to conceive, unable to fall in at all while others like me seem to have trouble holding on. The very worst thing you can do is sadly the easiest. That's to lay blame. You somehow go through this self-pity, self-loathing stage of grief and once you're done blaming yourself, you start to point the finger elsewhere. It's harder to accept and easier to look for a ‘why'.
If you find yourself searching, blaming, or struggling through, please seek assistance. Talk to a friend, family, or a professional who will guide you through what could be the most challenging time in your life.
Helpful resources
Please know that these help services are not exclusive to women. Men also struggle with pregnancy loss.
