This was posted anonymously on my behalf today on Instagram on a page I follow ‘ihadamiscarriage’
It’s taboo this loss, and much like my miscarriage, I grieve alone.
Four agonising rounds of IVF it took. Secondary infertility. Our chances were slim but still I believed in you.
I handed daddy a positive pregnancy test. Father’s Day. He was quiet. I thought I saw tears swell. I can’t be sure.
The 6 week scan when I held my breathe till I saw your flickering heart. Hope grew.
Your big sisters face when asked whether she wanted a brother or a sister. There was no question. She wanted you, the way she jumped that day from her chair to mine saying with excited eyes ‘mummy I told you there was a baby sister in there.’
The day that I found out you had Down syndrome, my 41st birthday. The heartache of carrying you after making the gut wrenching choice that we couldn’t keep you. How I took my prenatal vitamins to the very day they took you from my body, hoping for a miracle.
The 30 seconds before the anaesthetic hit when I told you I was sorry over and over. The utter emptiness I felt after. The way the light in my eyes have dimmed somewhat.
I rang the hospital the next day asking for your remains but you were just ‘a product of conception’ or so they said.
The pregnancy symptoms that continued for a week after you were gone. How your sister keeps asking when your coming.
Learning your daddy and my partner of 22 years was cheating throughout your 13 week gestation. Finding out he left me in hospital on the very day I lost you to go to her. He didn’t have an urgent work meeting. I lost faith in humanity in that moment.
What do I do with all this? I don’t know. It’s taboo this loss.