I decided to start a blog. I’ve blogged before, but its been a long time. I decided to do this, mostly for myself. I want to remember – to never forget.
After two lost babies – Charlie at 9 weeks and Tyler at 22+5 weeks – we thought numbers had to work in our favour. Its November, 2011, and its our second last cycle of clomid. I have had troubles ovulating since losing Tyler 2.5 years before. Despite recent history, we conceived a baby on Sunday 27th of November 2011. An ultrasound on 15 December dated us at 4+5w – smack on according my dates.
Eight days later, (23 Dec) things did not go as planned at the Obs. No foetal pole was scene, and worse, the sac only measured 4+6w. How could the sac have only grown 1 day over an 8 day period? There were no answers, only questions. We were told that it could be a conflict in dating between the two different type of ultrasound machines, and we would need to wait a week to check the viability of the foetus. The problem for us was that there were so many holidays over the Christmas period.
Finally, 13 days later on the 3rd of Jan 2012, we were able to go back for a follow up scan. Instantly, she said the most magical words ever – “Ahh yes!, There is a heart beat!”. I cried with joy. I was relieved. The numbers were starting to work for us. It had to be ok. It just had to be. Discussions were entered into about the possibilities of a cerclage, progesterone shots and other measures to ensure the longevity of this very special passenger who we had come to nickname “The Joey”.
Our follow up was on the 18th of Jan 2012. I was 9+4w pregnant, and felt good. I had morning sickness, fatigue and all the right sort of symptoms for a healthy pregnancy. I had allowed myself to relax and enjoy the process, certain that this would be our “happy ever after”. How wrong we were. The ultrasound showed no heartbeat, and the Joey measured 9+2w. It had died within the 48h prior to the ultrasound.
The D&C followed two days later. Thirty blood tests were conducted along with the surgery to try and determine why this is happening to us.
There are no words. Perhaps at almost 41, this is just beyond me, and I will not be able to give Joe babies. The sense of loss is ever present. There is no escape. The realisation that yet again there will be no baby is gutting. I just can not describe. I just want to breath.
All we have to remember the Joey is a hand full of ultrasound photos, and a hospital identification bracelet.