A Letter To My Sleeping Angel; The Baby That I Lost

October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. On Thursday, we light candles for those babies we have loved and lost to remember them. I am the 1 in 4. This is my story, a letter about my loss. I am writing it as if I am writing it to my lost baby, as I don't think I have ever given myself a chance to address them and to try to wrap my brain around what happened. I am grateful for this opportunity to share this, to show that I am not hiding what happened and to try and help anyone else that has ever been hurt in the same way. 

There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think about you. Not many people would know that or believe it, but it's true. Whether its a question asked about how many children I have, in which I answer 2, or if a comment is made about whether I was married before I had children, something is said or happens, and if only for a second, I remember. 

I wouldn't have been married before I had children, if you had come into the world, but you weren't an accident either. You were planned. Your Daddy and I wanted you so badly. I remember the day I found out that I was pregnant, I hadn't slept all night because my stomach had felt heavy and 'funny'. I didn't know if I had missed a period, as I had come off the pill and fallen pregnant straight away. So, I went and got a test because everything just felt different. I could sense you were with me. The test seemed to take forever, then there was the result. 

Pregnant. 1-2 weeks

Your Dad practically jumped on top of me, we were so happy. We told your Grandma's straight away. You were our dream come true and the most important part of our future. So, we put our wedding planning on the back seat and focused our attention on moving our life down South, to be near family so I could make sure I gave you the best possible future. 

We were so happy and the world seemed so different from then on. I never thought I would lose you. I was counting down the days to get to the scan. The midwife gave me the due date of December 5th 2011 and I couldn't wait to confirm that. 

As the weeks passed, the move and scan drew closer but why didn't I have morning sickness? Why didn't I 'feel' pregnant? The worrying took a hold of me and at 9 weeks pregnant I took another test. 

Pregnant. 3+ weeks

I felt reassured that I was still pregnant, that the last few weeks of excitement and planning hadn't just been a dream. I felt lucky, perhaps, that I didn't have any nasty pregnancy symptoms, that you were still growing peacefully. 

Little did I know, you were not growing. In fact, you had stopped growing at 8 weeks. Your heart had stopped. I had no idea. The test showed 'pregnant' so that is what I still thought I was. I couldn't have been happier. My stomach towards my leaving do had started to 'swell', I thought I was getting a bump. I wasn't, it was just the fluid building up. My family and friends would comment that I was starting to 'bloom'. 

The night I had been waiting for, our leaving do, in which we would announce our amazing news, had arrived. I was 11.5 weeks pregnant and so excited. The scan was only 5 days away and I couldn't wait to see your image. I decided to use the work toilet before we went to meet our friends. That is when my heart stopped and my world came crashing down. 

The flash of red before my eyes created a panic storm which surged through my entire body. We made our excuses and rushed to Accident and Emergency. I was panicking, I felt sick through to my stomach and the tears flooded my eyes, streaming down my face. I couldn't lose you. The doctor did a physical examination and reassured me that I was not miscarrying. It was old blood apparently and my cervix was tightly shut. We went home that night, relieved that the nightmare had ended. 

But it hadn't. It was just beginning. 

I spent the whole night in pain with cramps. The bleeding didn't ease up, so I phoned the hospital after barely a winks sleep and they offered me a scan. For the Friday. Well, our scan down South was planned for the Friday, so I phoned my midwives and they told me to calm down and booked me in for the following day. So we just packed up our life and left it behind. It was not the exit we had wanted, but all we could think of was you. I would have done anything to save you. I didn't want this to be happening. The crying and the bleeding didn't stop. 

We sat in the waiting room for the scan the next day, my Mum by my side. I was wearing pads. Why was I having to wear pads? I was meant to be pregnant, I was almost 12 weeks, 'safe', so why was I here? 

"How many weeks did you say you were?" they asked after they had put the cold gel to my stomach and began the scan. 

"12 this week" I answered. 

The look on their faces said it all. Aaron's face said it all, he could see the screen, whereas I couldn't. He described you as a tiny blob. That's when they told me, I'd lost you at 8 weeks, you were a 'missed miscarriage'. So a consultant booked me in for another scan a few days later to see if my body would 'naturally' expel you. Obviously I had wanted you so badly, my body had clung to you for a month when you had already left. I felt bad for the doctor, for those in that waiting room, having to listen to my cries and seeing my heart breaking in front of them. 

In the following days, my body did expel you. I tried to look out for you, I never did get to see you. I'm envious of Aaron as even though you were 'a tiny blob', I'd have loved to have seen you. I never had proof you were actually there, you were mine and I never saw you. I don't know when you left my body, like I never knew when you'd 'died'. I had the next scan and the words, 

"Sorry, but there's no sign of a pregnancy"

both relieved and insulted me, of course I knew that. I still needed a d and c to clear out your 'home' that you'd left behind. I remember the emptiness I felt that day but also the relief I felt when I got back home. The nightmare was now over and I had my family helping me through. 

The pain has never completely gone, neither the heartbreak, but it has gotten better. We went on to have our wedding, then your 2 brothers. I always wonder whether you were a girl or a boy and whether you look like either of them. 

They say that everything happens for a reason but for ages I would wonder what that reason was. Maybe I wasn't ready to be a Mother? I am strangely grateful that it did happen because otherwise Aaron and I wouldn't have married when we did, or we wouldn't have the two beautiful boys that I have been blessed with. It hurts to admit that, but I know that you are OK and in a better place. I believe that you watch down and look after us, that you look after your brothers- their guardian Angel. A child too good for the world, you were given your Angel wings. Your loss forever echoes inside of me, the child I was never able to hold, but the love, the love will always be there. Your loss will mean that I will never ever take my boys for granted as I know how precious life is. I know how hard it is to fall pregnant and to keep hold of babies- because of that, I embrace the children I have been blessed with, even at the most stressful of times. 

I hope that you watch down on us and find the chaos in our everyday lives amusingly. Just because you were 'a tiny blob' and not really fully here, does not mean you are forgotten. 

I will always love and remember my sleeping baby, my Angel with wings. 

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