“That’s the moment where I felt real pain like never before”


This was the day you’re normally so excited about. It was that safety threshold you wait for before you tell people your cherished news, and this is how we felt – so excited about letting everybody in on our special surprise.

That was until the blood. That very morning was exciting. We couldn’t wait to tell the girls that they were going to be big sisters. Both Lynz and I dropped our biggest tiny human off at school, before heading down to the nursery to drop mid-kid and our tiniest human off before the scan appointment at the hospital. It was when we were walking to the nursery that something just didn’t feel right. I left Lynz with the girls and went to the toilet. That’s the moment where I felt real pain like never before. Not physical pain, but my heart hurting so bad. There was blood. I was bleeding. This was the day of our scan. How could this be happening?

I told Lynz, we dropped the girls off and headed immediately to hospital. I was crying, quiet, scared, shocked. Lynz was trying to reassure me, but I couldn’t take it in. We had to stop for petrol and it felt like a lifetime. All things were running through my head. I thought I had played it pretty cool so far in the pregnancy, not getting too excited because I know how fragile things are, especially in the early days. I had’t played it cool at all. I was attached. This is our baby, our fourth child. I knew at that point there was no way we would ever use our frozen embryo. There was no coming back from this. We wanted four children, we now have four children.

The drive to the hospital was excruciating. Just as we parked the car, we saw our neighbours with their, easily identifiable, blue maternity notes and a bounty pack walking to their car. They’d obviously been for a scan. They were obviously pregnant. Happily and safely pregnant and what are we now? I cried more. Even sharing this I’m crying, thinking of how awful this moment was.

As we walked into the hospital, a midwife friend called as I’d messaged to say we were on our way and I was bleeding. I explained it was pink and she offered reassurance that maybe it wasn’t all bad as it wasn’t bright red. I felt slightly better, optimistic things could be ok. I hung up the phone and we walked to the antenatal clinic and that’s when it really started. I knew now things were probably not ok. I knew now I was bleeding heavily. I can’t even remember what I said to Lynz or what really happened, but we ended up in a side room with me crying hysterically and a midwife and doctor trying to keep us calm. They were being so kind, but I was feeling like I was somebody watching somebody else’s life. Lynz was quiet. She comforted me, holding me tight.

The doctor came back and told us it was time for the scan and took us through to meet the sonographer. I fell apart crying, shaking. I didn’t want him to tell me the news he had. I didn’t feel like I could cope with it. He didn’t rush me. He didn’t hurry me along. He just waited. Lynz helped me onto the bed, but my body was shaking from crying so much that there was no way he could scan me, and he knew it, but he didn’t say a word. He just waited patiently until I finally was ready.

I remember Lynz being right there, close, the whole time. She didn’t leave my side as she tried to calm me down. I knew logically I needed the scan, but the thought of it was making me feel sick. In a moment of calm, he went ahead. Lynz was watching the screen. He said there was a heartbeat. What? Our baby has a heartbeat? Our baby is alive!

Lynz stood up and cried. She was keeping it together right up until that minute. Then I guess she was so relieved, she let it all out. Our baby is alive. It’s got to be a miracle. How can this be?

It turns out I was having a bleed from my uterus, but it wasn’t affecting the baby and the baby was the correct size for its age. Stunned. Absolutely stunned and elated. Complete disbelief at how this could’ve happened. There are very few occasions when both of us are speechless, but this was one of them. We met the consultant afterwards, who reassured us that after a few days the bleeding should stop and things should continue as normal. I apologised profusely for being a crazy, psychotic mess, but there was no need. They understood what we were feeling that morning.

We both felt like we had been hit by a bus as we walked back to the car. We had the most wonderful news with the most awful experience. We certainly won’t forget that in a hurry.

Only reading DIVA online? You’re missing out. For more news, reviews and commentary, check out the latest issue. It’s pretty badass, if we do say so ourselves.

divadigital.co.uk // divadirect.co.uk // divasub.co.uk

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.