Trigger: My miscarriage story



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Accepting that we’re pregnant is one of the biggest mental shifts we are ever likely to go through in our life time. Everything, and I mean-everything is about to change. Our entire life flashes in front of our eyes. Have we done everything we wanted to do, before we have a baby? No more solo backpacking, or having wayyy too much fun at burning man that we forget our own name…we are now on the road to parenthood and there is no looking back.

Along with coming to grips with the idea that our world is about to be flipped upside down and inside out, we are fed a spoonful of Insomnia, fatigue, nausea and a constant overwhelming sick feeling. (unless you’re lucky enough not to have this in your first trimester).

 But none of it matters.

It doesn’t matter because every symptom is a little ‘Hey Mumma”’ from our growing baby. 

Our job as a mother starts the moment we see those two lines. It’s a necessity to keep our baby safe and healthy, envision and plan for his/her future, this trumps everything else. The ‘nesting’ is real.

We were lucky enough to be offered early scans, due to the fact I have a heart shaped uterus (fancy, i know!). So there we were, hand in hand, just 6 weeks in, staring at our future on a screen. Our creation, our baby. 

“Pregnant”. A word filled with images and questions of a new future. Visions of a little boy in a dinosaur romper, a miniature version of Henry. The list of baby names is ever increasing and the ‘saved’ images on instagram with sustainable baby clothes and toys’. Will we bring him/her up plantbased? Will we need childcare? Should we move house? The questions and worries are there. Along with the stack of motherhood books by my bedside table. The possibilities are endless of what our future could look like with our new baby. We lay in bed, Henry’s palm on my growing tummy while we felt, for the first time, like a family.

It was a hot September. At least, I thought it was, but come to think of it, I had felt hot for the past 2 months.

I dragged my  make-up kit out of the boot, up the concrete steps and into the location house. I could have asked someone to help, but god forbid, they might have wondered why, and guessed that I’m pregnant! 

It wasn’t the ‘morning sickness’ I knew from reading articles, in fact not morning at all. Hot sweats paired with an all-day long nauseated ‘eurgh’ feeling, and then sudden spikes of overwhelming ‘i’m going to be sick unless i eat something’! A good excuse to eat whatever I really wanted! Beans and jacket potatoes every day for me please. 

It was a celebrity shoot, ironically- a pregnancy celebrity shoot. She was 7 and a half months in, I was just under 12 weeks. She glided around the shoot, skin glowing, full of energy and grace with the team checking in on her every 5 minutes. She was followed around by a runner with a fan, constant access to sit on a chair if she needed to and being showered with water and snacks. She was fine, she said…she felt wonderful.

I could not help but question the extreme difference in social acceptance. 

Here I was, in my early pregnancy, on a mental rollercoaster, not allowed to show anyone any part of what was really going on with me. I was living a lie. I was getting to grips with the biggest change my body will probably ever go through, emotional and physical discomfort nobody could have prepared me for. Surrounded by people I knew, yet more alone than I thought possible. Society told me I cannot tell people what I am going through, ‘Just in case something went wrong’.

Well, as it happens, something did go wrong. 

Whilst on the shoot, I felt faint and overwhelmed. I sat on the loo for a break, something I often do on a shoot as an empathic energy sponge. This wasn’t something unusual. I peered down to my knickers. There it was, the spot of blood.

I was told by the midwife on my last scan that I have a little spotting ahead…so not to worry. 

I wasn’t worried. In fact I had morning sickness that very morning, bloating, fatigue. Nothing had changed.

Nonetheless, I booked in for the next morning. Just to check.

Henry and I skipped into the Elizebeth sweet looking forward to our third scan. Another chance to say hello to our little peanut.

I smiled at the midwife expecting her to smile back with a ‘Yes all is fine’.

But that never came.

This very moment, my family as I knew it..was no more.

“The heartbeat has stopped” she said.  

We were told our options of what to do next. Henry listened. I sat there, numb to the fact that our future, we had so clearly envisioned, that felt so real, had been ripped from underneath our feet. 

A part of me had died. A part of us had died. 

The sadness was unimaginable…crushing. It wasn’t just a growing fetus, It was our little family that died that day. It was the mourning of a life we thought we had ahead of us.

That is just one of the things I never knew about miscarriage. I never really knew or could even imagine how excruciating the emotional pain could be.

The next morning, I was due to do a make-up masterclass in front of 100 people. My face was on the banners and I had a lot of people counting on me. I had to do it. So there I was, a smile on my face… ‘Getting on with it’ just like we are told to do as women.  

Standing on that stage, with a dead baby inside of me, felt like a symbol of what we have to go through as women. Whether it is a difficult pregnancy, a miscarrige, or any kind of medical or emotional burden, we are taught to keep it all in. To keep it to ourselves. But these are the times we need people to know what we are going through, to be there for our sisters, and also for men to be aware and accepting. 

That next morning, I took a few tablets and one inside my vagina and within a few hours the cramping started. For 24 hours it was a cross between severe period pains and what I can imagine contractions to feel like. I won’t go into detail, and i don’t need to share my emotional state as I am sure you can imagine. 

Albeit this sad story… I know that there are so so so many women out there who have been through something similar. But why do we not talk about it?

Since having our miscarraige, 3 years ago now, I have made a point to talk about the pregnancy that I had, about the process of having a miscarraige and make it a part of the conversation (Of course in the right setting). It has honestly been so warming to hear other people speak up and realise that we are not alone. If we feel that we can be open and honest (I appreciate it it not for everyone and also depends where in your journey you are at), we will be helping others that may have something similar to come in the future. Some familiarity.

Thank you for reading my experience. If you found this blog because you are going through or have been through something similar, I send all of my love to you and promise you that this pain will pass. It will become part of your story and make you an even stronger human being. So much love xxxxxxxx


Read the Comments +

  1. Beck Hoyle says:

    Oh Em, this hit me so hard right now. As you know we are going through our own fertility battles and are extremely unlikely to be able to have a baby. This story is so unbelievably sad but I am so happy for where you are now and the amazing journey you and Henry are on. Sending so much love from my family to yours xxx

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Hi, I'm Em-J

Your online Bestie and Beauty Guru. I'm here to guide you through the maze of greenwashing, helping you discover products that are  good for you, the animals, and the planet. <3

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