At least you know you can get pregnant!

I heard someone calling ny name and although it felt as though I was dreaming it, I felt a tube being pulled out of my throat. It felt like it was bulbous at the end as the last little bit was pulled out as I became more aware of where I was and why I was so disorientated. Feeling the odd sense of guilt of when I am caught sleeping in late, I tried to wake myself so as not to get caught napping. As I came around I remembered the last words I had uttered, I groaned, "Oh no the last thing I said was about tequila. And now the first thing I have said is about tequila!" Feeling very much like an alcoholic who has nothing else to talk about I began to take stock of what was going on around me.

In October 2005 I became aware of a pulsing sound that seemed to eminate from my right ear. Numerous MRI's a CT scan and a punctured eardrum later I was diagnosed with a bone pressing on the blood vessel in my inner ear restricting blood flow and causing the 'whoosing noise' I can hear, essentially I can hear my pulse. Having lived with that for 4 years has made me constantly aware of how fast my heartbeat is and I suddenly realised that my heart was beating a lot faster than normal. Recalling my limited medical knowledge gained from House and Scrubs I decided an elevated heartbeat was a problem and called over the nurse, first explaining my pulsatile tinnitus and then that my heartbeat was high, by this point even higher from my unneccessary stress. In my head I was being articulate and reasonable but I am now fairly convinced I was slurring my words and ranting like a complete fruitcake. No wonder she took the heart monitor off my finger and gave me a glass of water to shut me up!!

After asking everyone who walked past if I could see my Husband yet they moved me into a ward and told me he was on his way. While I waited they checked how much I had bled, obviously to them the heavy bleeding I experienced was to be expected, to me it was an alarming amount and I experienced an unpleasant sensation of feeling the blood coming out. Across the room I could hear a young lady who judging from what they were saying, the tests they did, blood pressure etc, had had the same proceedure as me. No one came to sit by her side that day and as I heard her sob through the curtain I felt the overwhelming urge to go and hold her and tell her I know what she is going through and she is not alone.

I got distracted from my noble quest however by the arrival of my Husband looking very fetching in green scrubs with the word 'large' printed on his bottom. I have never been so pleased to see someone in my life. I knew he was distressed by the canula still in my hand and the nurses concern at how low my blood pressure was but all of that didn't stop him from stealing my sandwich! 1 and a half devil sandwiches, a rich tea biscuit and a whole jug of water later, my blood pressure was back to normal and I could go home.

As he half supported me, half carried me to the car he explained that he had rang my Mum when I came round and I explained my Mum's rather hilarious reaction to anaesthetic which caused our neighbours to check with my Dad that she was ok 3 days after an op when she was still drowsy and slurring her words, all the time convinced, like me, that she was holding an illuminating conversation!

We arrived home and I set myself up on the sofa with pillows and a duvet, where I would remain for the next 3 days, moving only to the toilet or to bed. Being the amazing husband he is, he made me the best dinner a girl could ever want after being on nil-by-mouth for 12 hours, a prawn cocktail flavoured wotsit sandwich. Yum.

Over the next few days we struggled to come to terms with what had happened, moods ranging from inexplicable bouts of feeling very positive and jokes about things hurting my uterus, to struggling to get out of the bed in the morning. Soon after the operation I thought about what had been said during my scans and became concerned about the 6cm cyst that had been found on my ovary. Along with my Husbands fears at my surprising lack of bleeding since the day I left the hospital I visited a friendly GP who referred me for a scan and put my mind at rest about the bleeding.

A few days past and my hand and wrist became painful along the site where the canula and anaesthetic had been administered. My first port of call was the day surgery unit where the operation had been performed, they recommended me to my doctor who told me I would have to wait a week for an appointment. Perhaps I was being self-centred and unreasonable but I felt after everything my body had been through in the last few weeks it was not too much to ask to be seen relatively soon. I discovered a minor injury unit that held a drop in clinic at my local hospital. By the next day my hand had become unbearably painful so I went along only for them to book me an appointment at my GP that evening. How does that work? A doctor can't see me unless the hospital tells them to??

As I arrived at the doctors surgery, only 10 days after having had the erpc, I soon realised how they had 'found' an appointment for me. I had been booked in during the maternity clinic. I sat there surrounded, 2 heavily pregnant women opposite me and one either side. Just for good measure a lady sat behind me with her newborn baby. As I waited for my appointment I grew more and more distressed, feeling the now common feeling of jealousy that surrounded me whenever I saw a pregnant woman or small baby.

Having come across some pretty unpleasant people during my short lived pregnancy and eventual miscarriage I was under the misguided impression that they couldn't get any worse. That was until I met the GP that day. Struggling to understand the English I was saying to him he frowned as I explained my problem. He took a second to prod around at my already painful wrist and then dealt the final blow. "There is nothing wrong with you, take some paracetomal if it hurts." 7 weeks on and I still have pain and an unexplained lump in my wrist, I cannot face returning to be treated like a waste of their time. I heard lumpy wrists are attractive anyway!

At this point my Husband and I had only told our parents and siblings of the loss of our baby. The next week would host a series of challenges for us. First my young cousin came to stay, she is 15 and keen for us to produce a baby/toy for her and asks on a regular basis when we are going to have children. Her Mum had given me permission to tell her if we wanted to but I was still finding it hard to talk about it out loud without breaking down so I decided I didn't want to upset her like that. Instead I steeled myself to field questions about babies. I am not sure if she sensed it was a sensitive subject or she had been pre-warned but no mention was made and we enjoyed a few days of fun, irritating teen style.

The next test came a few days later. We visited home for the first time since losing the baby and I was fully prepared to have people ask the dreaded question that holds no right answer. "How are you?" If I answer honestly and explain that I feel as though a piece of me has been removed, then I will make people feel uncomfortable. If I lie and say I am fine, they won't believe me and worry about me bottling it all up. After visiting my Parents, Brother, Aunt, Parents In Law and Brother in Law, I had got the answer down to a fine art. First a shrug, then a big sigh and finally muttering, "I am ok, I have no choice." Worked every time.

That night we had an event I had been looking forward to for a long time. A friend of mine works for the Children's Trust and had planned a wedding themed ball. Finally a long awaited opportunity to wear my wedding dress again. There had been a time during my pregnancy when my humoungous baby breasts had threatened my chances of fitting into my beautiful dress. It fit with not a millimetre to spare!! This was the first opportunity we had to see our friends for a long time and we were finally enjoying ourselves!

Of course as you may have realised by now, anything good in my life tends to be short lived. Half way through the evening the question we were dreading reared it's ugly head. "Are you planning on having children soon?" Seizing the opportunity my Husband poured out his heart to his best friend telling him all about the baby and what had happened. By doing this he inadvertently forced me into a position where I had to tell his friends wife so she heard it from me and not through the gossip grapevine. Following her to the loo I explained everything, immediately feeling guilty for worrying her, at 27 weeks pregnant she didn't need to hear about a dead baby!

There it started, the well-meaning phrase that would soon become the bain of my life.... "Oh well, at least you know you can have children..."

Yes, yes, you are right, being 9 week pregnant, finding out my baby had died in my uterus and having to have it scraped out of me, thats the consolation prize!!! I don't think so.