Emma’s Diary Wellbeing Campaign: Surviving pregnancy after loss ** WIN **

This is a collaborative post with Emma’s Diary and I have been compensated for my time. 

When Emma’s Diary asked me to work with them on the Emma’s Diary new wellbeing campaign, sharing my journey of antenatal or postnatal wellbeing, it felt like the perfect opportunity to reach out to those struggling with pregnancy after loss. Emma’s diary have some amazing tips to improve your mental well-being during pregnancy but for those of us who have experienced loss, it can be particularly hard to focus on the positives, curb our anxiety, and allow ourselves to believe that everything will be okay. I wanted to use my experience to tell any of you going through pregnancy after loss that all of those worries, and all of those emotions, and completely and utterly normal.

Dear Mama to be,

Sixteen years ago, pregnant with my second baby, just three months after losing our first at 13 weeks, I was just like you. And eighteen times since.

I guess that’s hard for some people to imagine, to even allow that thought to enter their brain and ponder how it would feel to be pregnant so many times and say goodbye just a few months later. I know I struggle with it even now.

To look at me now, surrounded by four children, the most beautiful family you could ever imagine, you would never guess what we have been through to have them. You would never believe, behind a smile that beams with pride every time I look at the four of them together, there is so much heartache and hurt; that where there are four there should have been five. You would never for one moment imagine that there are fifteen little babies all loved, all lost, who I shall think of and remember always.

Because once upon a time I was just like you, squinting at a pregnancy test, holding it up to the light, scrutinising every little shadow, willing those two lines to show, and for this to finally be our chance. Back then I was just like you, dissecting digital tests, despite the blow of reading ‘negative’, frantically googling evaporation lines, false readings, pouring over baby forums where women like me were doing exactly the same.

I was just like you, staring in disbelief when I finally saw those blue lines again, both laughing and crying, trying so hard to believe that this time it would all work out. I was like you, not satisfied with one test, but taking daily tests, sometimes several times a day, lining each test up on the bathroom window ledge, comparing the colour of those blue lines, sobbing if they looked a little paler, sighing with relief when the ink grew darker.

I was just like you, on constant knicker watch. Making trips to the bathroom every half hour, every ten minutes, every moment of every day, checking for minuscule spots of blood, wiping with a shaky hand, dreading the thought of seeing that angry red streak which signalled the end.

I was just like you, pleading with the doctor for an early scan, paying privately for our own reassurance, pacing the waiting room, shaking like a leaf, telling myself that any moment now this would all be over. And praying that I would be wrong.

I was just like you, watching the sonographers face for tell tale signs of bad news, holding my breath until she swivelled the monitor, pointed to that beautiful little speck on the screen and told me, the most wonderful words of all, “There’s the heartbeat right there.”

I was just like you, leaving the hospital, elated, clutching that ultrasound photo to my chest, praying that my baby would continue to grow. Allowing myself to imagine, even for just a moment, that it would all be okay, before instantly berating myself for daring to believe.

I was just like you, panicking at every twinge and cramp, prodding my boobs to check they still hurt, willing myself to feel sick or crave pickled onions, a regular at the doctors, counting down the days until our 12 week scan.

And I was just like you when my world came crashing down around me with bad news, and walking on air with the good. I was just like you, clinging on to my husband as my heart broke in two, and crying with disbelief when it didn’t.

And whilst I would love to sit here and tell you that those first twelve weeks will be easy, or indeed for many of us the entire nine months, I can’t. It’s going to be hard, during those 8 long weeks before the next scan, when you imagine all of the things that could possibly go wrong; when you lie there as the sonographer checks all of their organs, takes all of those measurements, and you tell yourself that you couldn’t possibly be so lucky as to have a healthy baby after all of this time.

When you start to feel movement, those amazing little flutters, and those huge walloping kicks, you are going to drive yourself crazy waiting for the day they may stop. When you shop for the nursery and splash out on the pram, when you hold those tiny little babygros in your arms and imagine the baby who will wear them, you are going to ask yourself, what if they never will? 

When you reach your due date, when your fear and anxiety hits an all time high, lying awake with horror stories, like mine, swirling around in your head, you’re going to feel a sense of hysteria that you just want this baby out, right now, right then in that moment, whilst they still kick inside you, whilst there is still hope.

And during those moments, you will ask yourself, am I going crazy? Is this normal? Am I losing my mind? And believe me when I tell you that everything you are feeling is completely and utterly normal. 

It’s okay to be scared, to fear the worst, to live every day holding your breath, wishing that you could be sure of the outcome. It’s okay to be neurotic, to pee on a stick twenty times a day, it’s okay to tell everyone, to tell no-one, to shut yourself off or surround yourself with love.

It’s okay to cry, to laugh, to feel a thousand different emotions in the space of an hour; to imagine a life without your baby in it, and to dream of a life with them at the centre of your world.

It’s okay to feel jealous, to feel angry, to feel robbed of a time that should have been wonderful and exciting, filled with such happiness, knowing nothing but joy. It’s okay to get through each day doing whatever it takes to stay focused, no matter how strange or how crazy it feels.

It’s okay to feel guilty, to think about the baby you lost, the baby you hoped for, the baby you would have given just about anything to hold in your arms. It’s okay to be happy, to feel grateful, to feel excited. And it’s okay to allow yourself to believe that, this time, all of your hopes and dreams will come true.

And whist I can’t give you a magic wand to make this time go any faster, and whilst I can’t promise you there will be a healthy baby at the end of your journey, I can assure you that whatever happens, you will survive it.

Because, trust me, when you get through it, which you undoubtedly will, and you hold that little one in your arms, when he or she lets out that first cry, opens their eyes, and you see each other for the very first time, it will be worth every last heartache, every single tear, and you will be the most wonderful Mummy in all the world because of it.

I can promise you that. 

xxx

In honour of Mother’s Day and celebrating women in general, I have teamed up with Emma’s Diary to offer one lucky winner a Spa Day at Banya No.1. Banya No.1 is the first of its kind in the UK and brings Russia’s oldest and most popular wellness traditions to the capital. Being not your typical spa experience, it features authentic Russian steam sauna, plunge pool, hot stone and treatment rooms and a Rest & Relaxation area with traditional food & drinks. The key signature treatment is Parenie – an invigorating thermal massage, that uses leafy and fragrant bundle of birch, oak or eucalyptus twigs.  

The prize will include 3-hour off-peak session for 2, including two treatments each (Parenie and Scrub) and a pot of herbal tea. To enter simply leave a comment below with your answer to the competition question and one winner will be chosen and notified via email at close of giveaway on 17th March. 

What was / is your biggest struggle during your pregnancy?