Almost A Statistic

We tried for Little Miss for about a year. I was tracking everything. 
We conceived that October and I was over the moon. The + came at a time when we really needed something positive. I called the midwife, made an appointment and got set up for a dating ultrasound because my cycle was all over the place.  I knew I should have been about 9 weeks along, which is a pretty good time for a dating ultrasound. When the results came in the midwife told me the baby was measuring small for dates which could be a bit concerning in the early weeks. She told me this happens for many reasons, that our dates could be off (which I knew wasn’t possible because we tracked the days we had ‘tried’), that the tech could have miss-measured or that the baby had stopped growing and I would miscarry. I didn’t hear much else after those words. Miscarriage is one of those things that happens to other people in movies, not to you, right?  After a bit I asked the midwife to take a listen for a heartbeat. She told me that it was early still but we could try.  The midwife sent me for a follow up ultrasound and we found out it was simply a miss measurement and the fact I had conceived a few days later (fun fact did you know sperm can ‘hang around’ for up to 5 days in a fertile environment? So even if you tried on day 1 you might not actually conceive for up to 5 days)  

Our story didn’t end up a statistic, but for a week I walked around unsure of what was going on. 
Terrified of telling anyone about the pregnancy just in case. Feeling utterly alone.  It was devastating. I can only imagine what would have happened if the ultrasound results had been different. If I had to join the ranks of the mothers who suffer alone in silence. 

Today is pregnancy & infant loss awareness day. If you are one of the statistics I urge you to tell your story. To talk about your pregnancy, your baby, your loss, because it mattered to you. Because your baby was real and loved and you have every right to talk about your loss. Because you aren’t alone.

 

TBT & Coffee

I woke him up in the wee hours of the morning. My contractions had hit hard and fast. He jumped out of bed and called our midwife. She’d be here in 20 mins.
I knew that just wasn’t going to be enough time. Don’t ask me how I knew, it was one of those instincts moms get in labour. It was my 5th time, after all, I knew my body. I just knew our baby wasn’t going to wait. Hubby was going to deliver this baby. It was inevitable. And he did, right there, in the wee hours of the morning, moments before our midwife could get here.  All before he could even have a coffee. Oh you don’t know? My hubby lives on coffee. Coffee courses through his veins. Heck, I can’t even function or think at all without that first dose of caffeine in the morning. That he was able to focus and help me deliver our daughter without it was amazing. It still amazes me to think about it 19 months later.

 

[Today’s blog entry stemmed from a prompt from the awesome Mama Kat, check her out!]