Finding out I was pregnant was one of the biggest shocks I had (at that point) ever experienced. By the time I had attended my first midwife appointment I was almost 15 weeks, I had completely skipped the first trimester. A lot of people ask me how I never knew, but I really had no idea. My body never changed and I never experienced any of the “usual” symptoms associated with pregnancy, for someone who was very career focused and never wanted children until later in life, I adapted quite well. I started shopping for the baby straight away and as each week passed by, my excitement grew. The pregnancy itself was an absolute breeze, I suffered no ailments and I never began to show until I was 6 months. Emotionally it was quite hard, Lennon’s father’s serial infidelity both before and during my pregnancy coupled with his complete lack of interest in my baby led us to part ways, and that was extremely difficult for me. I hung on in there though and by September 2016 I was working 7 days a week, saving every penny and feeling as ready as ever to take on my role as a single parent.
Fast forward to October 2016, the 29th saw me start my 12 months maternity leave from work and the finish line was finally within sight. Lennon’s father had somehow made his way back into my life with all of the “I’m sorry”, “Let’s start again” and the short-lived “I love you” lines and I finally felt happily content! Lennon was due to arrive on 27th November, ironically enough 1 day after his father’s birthday. We spent all of the time before then decorating and putting those little finishing touches into place. We celebrated his birthday with a coffee and a take out and we waited……
A couple of days later I had an appointment with my midwife for my first membrane sweep, I was exactly 40 weeks pregnant. Upon performing the sweep we were informed that “It wouldn’t work”, this was because my little boy was fully engaged in the birthing position and his head was so low it was covering my cervix. We were told to attend another appointment one week later, but in the meantime we hoped he’d decide to make his appearance. He certainly made us wait because he didn’t budge! So off we went to our next appointment, still full of excitement but now impatience had kicked in. It was at this appointment that my whole world crumbled around me. The image of the tears building up in my midwife’s eyes as the fetal Doppler only detected my heartbeat, is an image I will never forget. I remember Lennon’s father looking at me so full of hope and telling me that everything was going to be alright as we made our way to my chosen hospital, but I knew. Something definitely wasn’t right and all I kept thinking was “this isn’t good”.
We arrived at the hospital and we were shown into a side room, where we silently and rather impatiently waited for a consultant to scan me. He came into the room and I lay back on the bed, trying to ignore the feeling of dread that had completely engulfed me. I never looked at the ultrasound screen, I turned to my right and I just kept looking at Lennon’s father as he tightly gripped my hand. As I looked at him I saw within an instant, the colour completely drain out of his face and floods of tears began to fill his eyes and make their way down his cheeks. It was then that my worst fears were confirmed, my baby had died. The consultant (whose name still evades me to this very day) told us he was going to seek a second opinion and asked if we’d be okay to wait whilst he went to bring a colleague, I told him not to bother and ordered him to turn the machine off. There wasn’t any point in prolonging the “false hope”, there was no going back.
After waiting for what felt like an eternity another consultant entered the room and talked us through what would happen next. I was given a tablet to “cut off” the hormone levels in my body and told to return 2 days later to have labour induced and with that, we left.
From then on in, the rest (as they say) is history, life for me was never going to be the same again. As I sit here and type this, I can still feel the numbness that overtook me that day. It shoots through my body and leaves goosebumps on my skin and at the same time sending those ever so familiar shivers down my spine, “I shouldn’t be here” my head shrieks “I shouldn’t be typing this” yet here I am and, unfortunately, here I’ll stay…….
2 thoughts on “And so it begins”
So sorry to hear about your loss. I’m here to talk anytime!
Thank you so much, I’m also here should you ever want to reach out . Xx
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