It’s true, every pregnancy is different. Some are a success and some most sadly aren’t. I’ve experienced both. But there is one thing that makes all pregnancies the same and that is, that they’re all extremely precious. They may all be unique but they’re ultimately destined to take the same path and no matter the outcome they will change your life forever.
My first pregnancy came just two months after tying the knot. Completely planned with 100% dedication behind it. I was a happy, healthy 25 year old, ready to become a mum, taking folic acid and eating like a professional nutritionist. It was exciting times, the trying, getting the plus sign and knowing from that moment I was growing my very own little person. Instant true love. The nausea kicked in and the tiredness was unbelievable but hey that’s all part of the package you sign up to the moment you allow yourself to get fertilized! Getting through the first 12 weeks was a lonely time, having only a stick you’ve weed on as proof that you’re expecting seems so daunting a few weeks down the line while you wait for the first midwife appointment and scan to meet your baby for the first time. At 10 weeks, being reassured by a professional that I was actually pregnant, gave me confidence and having been told that everything I was experiencing was completely normal made me feel that all was ok, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about seeing that heartbeat so that I knew for sure. Two weeks later, on Christmas eve we received the best gift we could have ever dreamed of, our beautiful little baby bouncing around on the screen with a strong beating heart. The magical moment we’d been waiting for and the defined start to an amazing journey. We took away with us happiness, hope and a future all in a photo. We’d already told the nearest and dearest our news and was now fully prepared to tell the rest of the world that I was a living incubator.
The next few months we decided with cracking on decorating the house to finish our little home, in time for our new arrival. We didn’t find out the sex at the 20 week scan as we wanted the surprise and had already fallen for our little Smeckle (nickname we still use to call her today) so it really didn’t seem to matter. Among constant trips to the toilet and extremely bad wind (it was the guys at work I felt sorry for), over time I embraced the change in my body and enjoyed watching a life grow from the outside. Yeah pregnancy is far from a glamorous lifestyle but it’s worth every sacrifice. All in all I have no moans and groans about my first pregnancy. I see myself as extremely lucky to have been able to experience such a beautiful thing. I congratulate my body for every flutter, kick and hiccup I felt as two bodies were growing together.
Painfully my second pregnancy hasn’t got the happy ending. It started off exactly as the first, planned, healthy habitat, the naive happiness of two pink lines and instant true love. Maybe with an added bit of stress as we’d just moved house and started the process of making it home but why would I feel any different to before? I’d already had a happy pregnancy, why wouldn’t this one be the same? I got the nausea and the tiredness and the same anticipation for the wait to meet the midwife and to see that healthy heart. Over the first 10 weeks I had a a little bit of spotting after intercourse, nothing major, so I just put it down to being a brand new pregnancy and the fact that my body had changed some what after the first. I left it, nothing else happened so I carried on as usual, counting down the days until we got to meet our baby for the first time. At 10 weeks and 4 days, I had more spotting, this time it just came on it’s own. I freaked out and couldn’t bare to wait another two and a half weeks for my scan so I made a doctors appointment who referred me straight to the EPU. At the hospital we waited, we talked, we smiled, we had hope but nothing prepared us for what was to come. Laying there on the bed, my life stopped the moment we were told there was no heartbeat. Smeckle 2 had stopped growing at six weeks, everything else had carried on and I still felt pregnant. I was having a missed miscarriage, a form of miscarriage where your body doesn’t register that the baby has died. We left heartbroken, with no hope and without a photo to remember our beautiful little baby.
Again we had told our nearest and dearest that we were expecting another little bundle and took the conscious decision of telling them, along with everyone else that we had lost them. I want my second pregnancy to be remembered that we wanted our baby and still so badly do but sadly nature decided that it wasn’t in our plans and so instead they’re now safely nested in our hearts. I’m still currently pregnant and waiting to let go but my body is still holding on. Holding onto my baby, the remainders of a future we’ll never get to live and dreams that have been shattered forever.
So there we have it, two completely different pregnancies with two completely different endings. Two of my very own babies that I will always love and that have changed my life and who I’ll be for the rest of it.