Newly Submitted Story

I never imagined my first pregnancy would end in miscarriage. When my partner and I found out we were expecting our first baby, we were over the moon. We instantly started imagining our future together. Like so many first time parents, I downloaded pregnancy apps, eagerly waiting for each new week to tick over and celebrated every little milestone. I even started taking weekly bump photos, despite barely having a bump. Now, I can't look at them without feeling physically sick. They remind me of a version of myself who had no idea our baby had already died. We'd already had a private scan at seven weeks because we were anxious. We were told our baby was measuring 5 weeks and 4 days. Although they were a little smaller than expected, we left with no idea anything could be wrong, and put it down to period dates and implantation dates being wrong. A couple of weeks later, on 4th March, I noticed the tiniest amount of pink discharge. It was barely noticeable, but something didn't feel right. I contacted NHS 111, who advised me to attend A&E. The nurse who assessed me was incredibly kind, but explained there wasn't much they could do. She referred me to the Early Pregnancy Unit and said they would contact me. When they called, the lady I spoke to was lovely, but explained they had no appointments available before my scheduled 12 week scan. I simply couldn't wait 5 days, the uncertainty was unbearable. I decided to book another private scan. My partner is a lorry driver and was working away at the time, and I don't have any family living nearby, so I went alone. I knew exactly what to expect because we'd been there only weeks before. I'll never forget the moment the sonographer removed the internal scan probe without showing me my baby. She quietly asked me to get dressed so we could talk. I refused. I asked her to tell me what was wrong with my baby. She gently explained that my baby was measuring around 6 weeks and there was no heartbeat. I should have been between nine and eleven weeks pregnant. I had experienced a missed miscarriage. Looking back, my pregnancy symptoms had eased slightly, but I genuinely thought I was just lucky and that the sickness wasn't lasting very long. I had absolutely no idea my baby's heart had stopped beating weeks earlier. That thought still haunts me. The private clinic made the referral back to the hospital. Later that day, the EPU rang to discuss my options. There was a two week wait for a D&C, so although I wasn't sure it was what I wanted, I booked it so I wouldn't lose the opportunity. I was then told I needed another scan at the hospital to confirm the miscarriage. I completely broke down. The thought of another internal scan, surrounded by pregnant women in the waiting room, knowing my baby had already died, was unbearable. Thankfully, because I had an earlier scan showing my baby had grown before development stopped, they agreed that if I could obtain the report myself, another scan wouldn't be necessary. Unfortunately, arranging this was left to me. A week later, I attended hospital to sign the consent forms. To reach the EPU I had to walk past the delivery floor, and into a building where people were walking out with their beautiful babies. Later that same day, I started bleeding heavily. I contacted the EPU, but because it was a Friday, I didn't hear back until late on Monday evening. Those few days felt endless. I was terrified, in agony and had no idea whether what I was experiencing was normal. My partner became so worried that he took me to A&E, but there was very little they could do to help. When I finally spoke to the EPU, I was advised to cancel my D&C because the miscarriage appeared to be happening naturally. If I'd known then what I know now, I would have never cancelled it. I had been told to expect "period like symptoms". That description couldn't have been further from my reality. The pain was unlike anything I had ever experienced. It felt much more like the early stages of labour than a period. Painkillers barely touched it. I spent hours sitting on the toilet and bathroom floor, passing huge clots and my beautiful baby. Every time I flushed the toilet I was left wondering if I was flushing my baby away. While my body was going through this physical trauma, my mind was trying to process the loss of the future we had already planned. After four weeks of continuous bleeding, I was asked to take a pregnancy test. It was still positive. I was told to wait another week and repeat it. It was positive again. A scan showed retained pregnancy tissue and a 5cm cyst. I was booked in for the D&C I'd originally cancelled. Looking back, I wish someone had explained from the beginning that a natural miscarriage can still end with needing surgery. Had I known, I would have chosen to go ahead with the first D&C and potentially spared myself another month of bleeding, uncertainty and emotional trauma. The procedure itself was straightforward, and the staff caring for me were incredibly compassionate. A week later, the bleeding finally stopped. In total, I had bled continuously for seven weeks. The physical pain eventually faded, but the emotional pain didn't. One of the hardest things for me was hearing my baby referred to as "pregnancy tissue". I understand its the medical terminology, but to me this wasn't tissue. This was my baby. A baby who was loved from the moment I knew they existed, even before then. People often tried to comfort me by saying, "at least you know you can get pregnant" or "you're young, you can always try again". I know these comments were well intended, but they missed the point completely. We didn't just lose a pregnancy. We lost our baby. We lost the future we'd already imagined. Nearly three months later, my partner and I have decided to start trying again. I want another baby more than anything, but miscarriage has changed me forever. It has taken away the magic and innocence of pregnancy. If I become pregnant again, I know every scan, every symptom, every trip to the bathroom will be filled with fear. I don't think I'll ever experience pregnancy with the same carefree excitement again. After my miscarriage I wasn't offered any investigations. I had previously been told I had low folate levels, and after reading about possible links between vitamin D deficiency and miscarriage, I asked my GP to check both. After some persistence, they agreed. My folate levels had improved with supplements, but my vitamin D was still low. I'll never know whether that had anything to do with losing my baby, but taking action helped me feel like I'm doing everything I can before trying again. This was a simple blood test, I cannot understand why this simple investigation isn't offered after a first miscarriage. If there's one thing I wish someone had told me, its that I would survive this. At the time, it felt impossible to believe. It was without question, the hardest thing I have ever experienced. Even now, I still cry several times a week. I still can't look at my pregnancy photos. I still think about who my baby would have become. But I've also learned that surviving doesn't mean forgetting. I will carry my baby with me for the rest of my life. And if sharing our story helps even one person feel less alone in their own grief, then our baby's short life had already made a difference.