When I wrote this post back in early April it was more for myself than anyone else. I guess that’s why it’s taken me so long to share it. I finally feel confident enough to put this out there and remember vividly how when it happened, all I wanted to do was find stories from others who’d gone through what I had. I really hope that this helps if you’re in a similar position reading this today.


That feeling when the little symbol comes through clear as day on the pee stick. Wow, what a high. Funny seeing as every other time I’d taken that same test I’d been praying for the opposite result. When I saw that second line though, I knew in my heart that we were ready.

I had been for a blood test to confirm my pregnancy on the Friday. The following Monday I woke up with cramps and then the bleeding started. I don’t know if it’s the same for everyone but I had this optimism that I couldn’t shake even though I must have known what was happening. It didn’t feel real until I heard the nurse’s tone on the phone and then moments later the doctor confirmed that the pregnancy wasn’t ‘viable’.

Oh my god the sadness. It overwhelms you. I couldn’t even understand how I could be so upset. I think that’s why I started looking online for other people’s experiences. I wanted to rationalise my grief.  Thank goodness for gorgeous Mums, loving husbands and beautiful friends who instantly gratify your feelings and acknowledge your pain. You feel like it’s ok to be this sad and you drink in their words of support and they make you feel a bit more whole. Because you’re broken. Your body is broken, your heart is broken and you need to heal.  

The healing process is an incredible thing to go through. I am so proud of my body for putting itself back together relatively quickly and I think that acknowledging that really helped me to look forward. Emotionally it’s a less straight forward process but the best advice I received was to be kind to myself. So I was. When I felt like crying, I did. When I felt like resting, I snuggled up on the couch and when I felt like comfort food I baked cookies. Seriously, the day after it happened I baked a batch of chocolate chip cookies. It was such an impulse, like I wanted to create something from scratch, start to finish, because I had lost something that I had only just started. It was oddly satisfying. Plus it’s a fact that being sad with cookies is better than being sad without them.

What’s really hard about miscarriage is that you fall down from such a high. It’s a cliche but the whole pregnancy process is truly a rollercoaster of emotions. You start off feeling excited and anticipating when the next symptoms will come. Then the test washes you in happiness. The doctor visit brings you down to reality for a bit with the stats about the likelihood of a miscarriage only to have you soaring on cloud nine again once they print off the little due date and stuff a book full of eating guidelines, pamphlets and nipple cream samples into your arms.

I remember feeling so important as the doctor ushered me in to see the nurse for the last flu jab they had left. The nurse had initially refused as they had it reserved for elderly people but when she saw I was pregnant her entire mood changed and suddenly I got the royal treatment. Walking back from the doctors concealing all the freebies in my cardigan so people at work didn’t see I felt smug, like I had the best secret. I’d see other pregnant ladies and think, I’m just like you! I’m in the club! That was what I struggled to come to terms with when I miscarried, it hurts to be kicked out of the club. Particularly when you feel like it’s your own doing.

It’s really important to remember that you can’t be mad at yourself. Somehow I managed to avoid that and kept being kind to myself which honestly helped me come to terms with things really quickly. I actually went through a weird phase of feeling almost guilty about how good I felt a week or so after it happened. You realise that life goes on and there is a lot to be thankful for.

Aside from keeping up the self love, I fully recommend talking about your experience with others. Maybe it’s not for everyone but personally I don’t understand the stigma about talking about miscarriage. For me it was a cathartic release. Every time I put into words what had happened, I was acknowledging the little being that we had lost and I feel like they deserve that. It also opens the conversation and makes you realise just how common miscarriage is. Everyone has a story to share and although it’s tough to hear of others pain it really did help.

Talking about what I’d gone through reminded me that I wasn’t out of the club and on my own, I was just in a different club. It’s not a club that I would wish upon anyone but if you do find yourself in it, please remember you’re not alone, you can talk about it and you are awesome. Kia Kaha.

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