I have written about loss before, after losing my Dad, but this is something very different. This was unexpected and brought more emotions than I could ever have imagined! One in four pregnancies end in miscarriage but so few talk openly about it. I felt so alone and unsure of what to expect.

In just six days my world turned upside down and did a back flip. From a + on a test, to sitting in a doctor’s room, this is my story. (15 minute read)

Let me rewind a little…

My not-husband and I weren’t trying to conceive but we also weren’t completely avoiding it either. That didn’t mean it wasn’t still a shock when I saw the + sign on the test.

It was a normal Wednesday morning, except I had an odd suspicion that something was awry. I peed on a stick and went downstairs to make a cupa. After a few minutes, I flipped the stick, half expecting to see nothing and I’d carry on with my day.

Nope, life had other ideas.

There staring back at me was a faint blue line where the ‘plus’ sign should be. I stopped in my tracks and readjusted my eyes a few times. “No, it can’t be?!“. I felt like it wasn’t real; like I was seeing things. I started questioning; “perhaps it’s a faulty test, maybe the line was there before, it could just be a mistake“.

Of course, none of these things were true and the test was performing as it should. I knew it was accurate as I ‘felt’ pregnant. Something I would never have been able to describe until I felt it, a weird internal inclination.

“Shit!” I thought. “How did this happen?!” Well, of course, I know how it happened as well as when, but in that moment, I didn’t want to believe it. I sat cupping my tea, wondering what to do now!

I text my not-husband to see if he’d be free for lunch. He replies, “why what’s up?!“. I have to reassure him nothing is wrong, that I just thought it would be nice (LIES! I was freaking out here!) He agrees and suggests 1130hrs. But that is a few hours away, I can’t sit around that long!

So off I go to do the food shop I’d planned to do already to try and distract myself from the racing thoughts inside my head. Shopping didn’t really work, I forgot half of the stuff on the list, despite the list being in my hand the whole time! I just couldn’t think straight!

1130hrs nears…

My not-husband texts me, “Fred* is joining us for lunch, hope that’s okay“. WOAH! Not really no! I’m on my way to tell him we’re pregnant! My brain is even more crazy right now! I reply “Erm, no not really, but sure“. How else could I say it without giving too much away. So I drive to camp (he’s at work) and I wait in the cafe car park anxiously checking to see if he appears alone or with company. Considering how I will handle either eventuality when it arrives.

He’s alone…thank f*ck for that! Phew! I can breathe a little. But wait! That means I actually have to tell him!

Reality

So we sit there, I’m listening, nodding and “mhmm”ing, waiting for a natural pause so I can tell him. He’s rambling about work stuff so I just say “I have to show you something! “. On my phone screen is a photo of the positive test, he looks at it and blinks a few times.

“IS THAT..???“

“Yes darling, it is“, I reply, hands shaking as I hold the phone. The shakes were part anxiety, part adrenaline. It had all seemed so ‘in my head’, but now I had told him, it was real! This was our reality. This was happening. I was pregnant!

We both sat for a while, nervously laughing, a bit of disbelief on both sides; yet some kind of excitement thrown in the mix. We talk about various things and then try to refocus on our day ahead once we leave the café. He was due to fly and I didn’t want him distracted by this bombshell. I, on the other hand, had to go and get the shopping I didn’t get first time round! We parts ways and I tell him I love him. He replies, “I love you two, too“.

That sentence floods me with thoughts of, “oh my goodness, this is real now”, some level of, “shit, I can’t deal with this!” and a small hint of happiness.

It was still so new for me, I didn’t think I would ever be maternal or actually WANT a child. I’ve always had such self-doubt and felt like I could never be that motherly person. I didn’t feel like an adult capable of raising a child. The idea of having children filled me with dread 90% of the time. But I’m female and those hormonal, instinctive urges were there. The sound of the biological clock that I can no longer drown out. The whole thing confused me a lot if I’m honest; something changed that day. It weirdly felt right.

That scared me!

My not-husband had his reservations too, he’s ‘been there, done that’ and wasn’t keen on doing it again. He has teenagers and had started thinking about retirement plans once he leaves the military! This was yet another reason I was so nervous about telling him as I wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react.

When we first met, he said, “no more kids and definitely no marriage” which at the time seemed pretty reasonable as we’d both been in long term relationships and didn’t fancy getting too deep again. But of course, things change!

Surprisingly he was actually fine when I told him and he quickly started planning. He’d got all the practical stuff like the house, cars, money, etc worked out whilst I was still flapping about being able to cope mentally. I have anxiety flare-ups from time to time, so the fear of having a baby was really quite real for me!

Three long days…

We spent the rest of Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday talking a lot; discussing how things were about to change drastically for us. My not-husband would swing from “I’m too old to start again” to, “Okay, so we need to change your car…”. I did feel he was getting way too far ahead of himself though; he’d mentally redesigned the girl’s rooms and thrown out furniture and built new stuff; all before I had got my head around the fact that I was actually pregnant. I loved his ideas for storage and so on, but it was too far ahead for me to think about, I couldn’t hear this!

I loved that it was coming from a nervous yet excited place within him, but I couldn’t help think he was moving a bit too quickly. I was so apprehensive about everything as it was only a faint line on a test (okay, 2 tests – I had to do another Friday to be sure it wasn’t all in my head!). But I’d not seen a doctor or had it confirmed by a professional. I read a lot of blogs and am fully aware of the devastating things that happen to women all the time; aware of what can be lost so easily!

Boom! There it is…!

Saturday morning I woke up, everything fine as normal. I’m currently training to be a counsellor and had a day of that ahead of me, so I was getting ready to go; slightly distracted by the thoughts of continued dread/excitement/nervousness. Then it all went wrong…

I felt some pain low down, kind of cramping but more sudden and severe. I’d nipped to the toilet, not thinking much of it. Women have cramps whilst pregnant all the time, but when I saw the blood I knew something was wrong. I told my not-husband and he started googling it; I think he was hoping to reassure me.

At first, I wasn’t completely sure as it was more like spotting. I tried to convince myself it’s all fine and that spotting is common. I had no choice but to carry on and go to my course, hoping for the best as I went.

During that morning I experienced a lot of pain and the loss was getting heavier by the hour. I knew then, that was it. It couldn’t be anything else. It was over and I had to adjust once again to a huge change.

That evening…

We were at friend’s for the night, celebrating a super early Christmas get together as it was the only weekend we were all free. It’s an annual meet with my not-husband’s friends of many years.

If I’m honest, it was kind of nice having the distraction as I couldn’t overthink or dwell on what was happening. It wasn’t ideal though, in a group of 10 adults, I was the sober one; quiet and reserved, trying not to let on what was happening. Downing paracetamol with my water, attempting to dull the pain of having a miscarriage.

There was still a glimmer of hope as I’ve known women bleed heavily and not miscarry, so I had to continue as if I was pregnant until I knew for sure. Deep down we knew what was happening and I didn’t ‘feel’ pregnant any more.

Monday morning I was given an appointment with the doctor immediately. She confirmed a miscarriage but was concerned by the pain I was having. She wanted to send me for a scan to check for any physical damage but the hospital refused as it was too early. I had to go home, rest and cross my fingers that there wasn’t anything else going on (ectopic, etc).

But how do you cope with something like this?!

The pain and bleeding stopped after a few days and my hormones settled down (eventually). The crazy brain, on the other hand, has been a different thing entirely! So many reminders and triggers you never think of before it happens to you.

My not-husband took a day or two to get his head around it, but in classic military style, he’d pushed it aside, soldiered on and vowed to deal with it another day. I explained it might not be that easy for me. Time would be a healer for sure in this instance. Coming to terms with it is hard enough without pregnancy hormones in the way. My body was as confused as my brain was for that week.

From a positive test on Wednesday to a doctor confirming a miscarriage on the following Monday. Our world had been flipped more than once and I was struggling to keep up. For the three days I knew I was pregnant, I was dealing with a sense of overwhelming responsibility for this life inside. I had to protect it in every way, it was fully reliant on me. One thing I think that made it harder after losing it.

“It’s not your fault, these things just happen”

They always say that, but for me, I am very logical and quite ’cause and effect’ when it comes to anything remotely scientific. I felt like I had failed as a woman. Failed to keep this thing alive. Failed to grow it. I questioned my every action, from the drinks I had at a wedding the day after we’d conceived, to the workout I’d done the week I found out. It really felt like I must have done something to make this happen.

I don’t believe in things happening without a cause but I do believe everything happens for a reason. Perhaps this wasn’t meant to be. Maybe it wasn’t the right time? Maybe I wasn’t ready yet? Perhaps it was a test? So many questions!!

Six weeks on…

Things are going well, yet the thoughts remain. I still feel I failed in some way. I had a bit of a crisis in the weeks after, wondering what my purpose was as it clearly wasn’t to be a mother. But I try to put those thoughts aside.

I continue to wonder what life would have been like. We went for a pre-Christmas lunch with my in-laws and that day hit me unexpectedly. We’d agreed to keep quiet until Christmas and that day would have been the day we told both our parents. Sadly we’d told them the sad news a couple of weeks before; both sides were devastated! My mother-in-law had even cried. As I sat there, eating my jacket potato I was thinking about how different this day would have been, had all been well. Everyone blissfully unaware of the chaos in my mind that day!

Now I see things and feel a sense of sadness. I look at other families and wonder if we’d have been lucky enough to have a boy or if we’d end up with three girls. I see cute baby items and know I’d have bought them yet now I have no need. I hug my pregnant best friend and pray baby arrives safely. Life is so so precious, no matter how many weeks it’s been in existence.

Time is an unknown quantity!

It may have only been 5 weeks we were pregnant for and 3 days we’d known about it, but it still existed and it still matters. It impacted my life harder than anything I’d been through before, aside from the loss of my dad.

Even that bought tears to me. It broke my heart to think that any child we would have had, would never know their grandad and my dad would never know his grandchild. I’d grown up without knowing either of my Grandads and I never dreamed the same would happen for our child.

I didn’t cry for our loss initially, I accepted it and felt some kind of guilt, coupled with a sense of invalidity; like I couldn’t cry about it because it was so early on and it wasn’t ‘a child’. Many women miscarry at 5 weeks without even knowing they’re pregnant. I felt guilty for feeling sad because there are women who experience the loss much further along than I was. I felt like I didn’t have the right to grieve as it didn’t exist for long. That, of course, is all rubbish as we all feel and experience things differently. Your feelings matter irrelevant of the circumstances. If it affects you, feel it, process it and gain strength from it.

Hidden emotions…

It wasn’t until a week later when we scattered my dad’s ashes (yep full-on emotional month, with my not-husband’s Grandpa’s funeral to follow on Monday!) that I realised how much the miscarriage had affected me emotionally. That night my not-husband sent an incredibly heartfelt message to our family group chat, which sparked tears for all who read it.

My wonderful not-husband had no idea what he’d started! I couldn’t stop crying! It wasn’t that I was upset that we’d scattered dad’s ashes as that was his wish, we’d fulfilled it just the way he’d asked and it was a beautiful, happy (but moving) occasion. I was crying because the reality was more raw than ever.

Firstly that my dad would never meet his grandchild (if we had one) and secondly, I was grieving the loss of our baby. 5 weeks may seem like nothing to most people but to us, it was everything. We were grieving the loss of its potential. The loss of how our lives could have been. The loss of the three days we’d spent mapping out the way our future might look.

I cried for hours…

The tears just kept falling out faster than I could stop them. I realised I’d bottled everything up until then but also the reality had hit me a little. The acceptance stage of grief. It hurt! I had to stop it somehow, so I opened a blank blog post and began writing. I wrote and wrote; every feeling inside me, ones I hadn’t acknowledged were even there. The pain I felt was real and I had to get it down into words. It’s something that will never be published but will be revisited. An extract of pure emotion in the moment!

Not a day has passed when I haven’t thought about it. I asked my not-husband one night, “do you think about what we lost?“. He doesn’t think like I do though, he’s super logical; in a, ‘it was here, now it’s not’ kinda way. He told me he occasionally thinks about it but to him, it’s gone and he’s moved on. I’m not entirely sure how true that is as I know he buries his emotions, but he knows I’m available to talk about it if he ever wants to.

For me, I still question why, I still wonder if it will happen again and how our future will look now.

Thank you for reading if you got this far. My hope is for just one person to feel that they’re not alone, or that they can understand what someone else is going through. By sharing our stories, we can help each other cope with these things in life.

I am one in four and this was my story.

Over and Out,

The Not Wife

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*Names have been changed

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I wanted to share a little of my journey through grief with you. Why?! Because I wish I’d have understood more about the grieving process before it started. Before I experienced the loss!

Losing my amazing Dad has been the toughest, most self-defining time of my life. It made me question everything, it changed my view on life and it pushed me to confront fears I never knew I had.

The Beginning

We never saw it coming!

June 2018, Father’s Day. Little did we know, it’d be our last!

My Dad and I shared that day in a hospital observations ward. He’d had back pain for quite some time but this was something new. An odd lack of sensation had occurred. He couldn’t feel a rough towel on his legs like he normally could. After days of tests and scans, we got it. That dreaded diagnosis.

After months of pain and discomfort, we now knew why. Dad was told he had suspected Metastatic Renal Cell Carcinoma which had spread to his bones. His spine was full of lesions (cancerous cells), which had caused the discs to fracture, hence the pain! Then there was his age…he had only just turned 60 a month earlier!

World blown apart! And where was my darling not-husband during all of this? Well, deployed of course, these things don’t happen when they’re home! He’d already missed Dad’s surprise party in May and was not due back for another month!

Now what?!

A transfer to another hospital for immediate radiotherapy then back to the first to start chemotherapy. And so it began…

Anticipatory Grief

Something nobody talks about! Everyone assumes grief only occurs when someone has passed away…wrong!

Anticipatory grief is completely normal! Who knew?!

What is Anticipatory Grief?

Grief as we know it begins when a loved one passes away, however; anticipatory grief occurs much earlier – but can be just as powerful – whilst the person is still living. The person living with the illness can also experience this type of grief, as they lose the individual they once were.

Anticipatory grief pretty much means mourning the loss of the person that once was and the lifestyle they had.

Some people who experience this may feel more prepared for the loss, or the person with the illness may feel ready to ‘let go’. Whilst others will start the grieving process all over again once the death has actually occurred. There is no right or wrong way to grieve for a loved one.

The well known model by Kübler-Ross, suggests there are 5 stages of grief and that we can experience any or all stages, at any time during the grieving process.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance.

All of these stages can include various symptoms of anticipatory grief, both emotional and physical. Sadness, anxiety, fatigue, forgetfulness, fear, muscle tension, guilt, regret, headaches and loneliness, just to name a few.

For me, I was plagued with viral infections; coughs and colds that would usually disappear after a week. A combination of poor diet from meals on the go, sleepless nights and anxious nausea, made remaining healthy myself, so much harder.

Change!

When someone so close is diagnosed with a terminal illness, everything changes! Every thought you have becomes influenced. You consider things you’ve never once given a thought to before.

Depending on the type of illness your loved one has, many changes can occur in them too. Whether it be memory problems, mobility issues or losing their independence, all of these things have an impact. Sometimes it may not be the illness that causes the symptoms, but the medications themselves.

Dad was on morphine based medications for over a year and by the end was taking incredibly high doses. Opioid based pain relief have so many side effects I won’t even begin to start listing them. But that amount of drug is enough to change anyone’s personality!

Watching that person you love deteriorate in front of you is devastating! You feel sad for the times you can no longer share. You feel angry at the things they’ll miss out on but you also feel honoured to be able to care for them. Every emotion possible passes through your mind.

Back and Forth

Treatment began and hospitals became our daily routine. We were all exhausted! Restlessness sets in as you spend hour after hour staring at the same four walls. A combination of radiotherapy sessions and chemotherapy drugs was making Dad feel rotten. The sickness only caused more pain for his back and with each day that passed, he was losing more feeling from his ribs down!

This way happening quickly! Far quicker than any of us ever imagined!

We fluctuated between stages of grief. Anger, to denial, to bargaining and back again. We’d try anything to make this stop! Dad would agree to start eating healthier on one day, then ask, “what’s the point?”, the next.

By mid July, my wonderful not-husband was due back from deployment and it could not be more welcome! He’d left in April and all was well. By June he was face-timing Dad in hospital and being told off for making him laugh…because laughing with a broken back hurts!

Dad was back home when my not-husband returned. Now visiting consultants and Dr’s almost weekly and using crutches and a zimmer frame to get around the house. A big change from April when Dad was building himself a new shed from scratch!

August and September came and went. Dad lost more mobility week after week. He was now sleeping downstairs and with no hope of surgery or a cure, Dad refused any further treatment!

A devastating blow for the family but we had to respect Dad’s decision…no matter how hard that was to accept!

Had he reached the acceptance stage already, or was this the depression stage? Was he giving up on life?

Entering The Unknown

October arrived and Dad was feeling somewhat brighter without all the cancer drugs and injections. He and my brother had already postponed a road-trip across Europe, so it was now or never!

They spent a week driving through France, Germany and Austria, visiting all kinds of places along the way. Dad was really struggling with sitting in the Motorhome for so many hours at a time and was having trouble getting in and out, so they returned a day early.

November was looking bleak. Dad had been off all treatment for a month now and told he could deteriorate rapidly without the drugs. No real prognosis could be given as we didn’t know how aggressive it was. Hoping for the best was now our only option…

Like us, Mum and Dad were also ‘not-husband’ and ‘not-wife’, so after more than three decades together, this was another ‘now or never’ moment.

We applied for and were granted a waiver for the usual 30 days notice of marriage and with Dad now being fully wheelchair dependent, we had a sit down ceremony too. With just three weeks of planning, we managed to pull off the most magical day! A memory treasured by us all!

They were now husband and wife!

Is This It?! Is our loss imminent?!

Christmas wasn’t exactly a time of celebration as you can imagine. You begin thinking about the next one, where you know Dad won’t be there! The depression sets in for everyone. You wonder how life can ever be normal again?! The anger fills you with hate of how unfair this all is! The denial…because he’s my strong, powerful Dad, this can’t possibly happen to him!

Now almost completely bed-bound, Dad had pressure sores developing and infections hitting him from all directions. His immune system had been destroyed by the chemotherapy and radiation and the pain was unbearable. Admissions to hospital came for December; allowed home on Christmas Eve through compassion, returning on New Year’s Day.

January came with a different kind of admission. This time to a hospice. We thought, “this is it”. No one comes back out of a hospice…do they?! A syringe driver was put in and the reality is, that meant, ‘end of life’ drugs. Another devastating blow with reality hitting us in the face!

We thought, “He’s not going to see February”.

The anticipatory grief kicks back in. You start questioning everything! “Have we done enough?”, “Should we have sought a second opinion at the start?”, “Why didn’t we notice earlier?”, “Perhaps it’s been misdiagnosed?”, “Why Dad? He’s a good man.”, “What’s the point of all this?”

“How can this be it for a once fit, strong, healthy Dad, Grandad and Husband?”

Then the images of the future appear. You begin to see the things Dad will miss out on and you cry.

The Confusion

Now, I’m happy being a not-wife and have no plans to marry my not-husband any time soon, but February brought thoughts I never imagined would come. We attended a beautiful wedding which saw one of my closest friends tie the knot with her army man…being walked down the aisle by her father.

Oh the emotions! Whilst I was incredibly happy for our friends, it stirred emotions inside of me that I never knew I had. It was the “my Dad will never be able to do that” thought and that broke me. It hurt…but why, I’m not having a wedding…it just didn’t make sense!

I managed to hold it together right up until the reception, when I watched the bridesmaid dance with her father. It hit me all over again! The tears broke through and I had to get some air.

Life as we knew it…

After two weeks, Dad did leave the hospice and requested everything be managed at home. He signed a DNAR form which expressed his wishes not to be resuscitated and now had a hospital bed in the lounge. That form was Dad’s acceptance stage, he knew this was it and did not want to prolong the inevitable.

We were into the “any day now” mindset. Dad would spend a lot of the time ‘out of it’. With so much diamorphine, he was confused, hallucinating, vomitting, drowsy…the list is endless. He required 24 hour care and to begin with, we had no care package in place. Mum, my brothers and I were exhausted, both mentally and physically.

My own life was on hold, I wasn’t taking as good care of myself as I should have been and my housework was piling up. My sinus infection and bad chest had not cleared up, I was feeling awful every day, only for the Dr to tell me, “you just need to rest!”. HOW?!

Being self-employed, I’d given up a lot of my clients to free up more time to spend with Dad. It had become about quality rather than quantity and both were dwindling fast! Not working, coupled with daily pharmacy trips and visits to see Dad was taking its own kind of toll, financially.

By now, my not-husband was away again, but this time on exercise in the UK. He’d driven himself separately so that he could return home at a moments notice, without having to mess up anyone else’s day. Once that was complete, he was home again for a few weeks before we started ‘weekending‘. The timing sucked, but you don’t get to choose these things when you’re in the military. So we carried on the best we could.

Mum had asked if I wanted to be there when ‘it’ happened. I said yes!

The False Alarms

We started to think, “he’s definitely not going to make it to March”.

Mum had called me late one night to say, “I think this is it, you need to be here”.

So I drove over, preparing myself to say goodbye to my beautiful, kind-hearted Dad. We sat by his bedside for hours, comforting, reassuring and soothing him. He seemed to pull back from the edge and settle down.

He’s going to be okay for a little while longer…phew!

Then it happened again mid-March, the phone call of doom, I mentally prepared myself. I arrived to see Dad breathing very shallow and think, “tonight’s the night”.

Wrong again! Just a chest infection. A course of anti-biotics and Dad was back chatting, sitting in his chair and discussing engineering programmes on TV with my wonderful not-husband. How?! My Dad was so strong, he was defying the laws of medicine.

The ‘Crazy Brain’

“Well, he can’t possibly see April…can he?!” My emotions were shot to pieces, up and down like a yo-yo, constantly preparing myself to say goodbye. Preparing for that loss.

Every time I left, I’d wonder if that would be my last goodbye. “Did I remember to say, “I love you”? Did I give him a kiss? Had I hugged him tight enough?”

Every time my phone made a noise, the panic would set in, the fear would fill my mind.” Would this be the call to tell me my Dad has died?”

Nothing is the same.

I am not the same.

I don’t feel like ‘me’ any more. I’m struggling to stay afloat. Picking up medications every single day, because he’s on such high doses they can’t dispense any extra. I just want to sleep, but I can’t sleep for the worry in my mind. The uncertainty, the anticipation and angst of just not knowing! I’ve entered survival mode, I do whatever it takes just to get through the day, often running on autopilot, supporting everyone else to make sure they have what they need, whilst ignoring my own.

I wonder if this new anxious, on edge, tearful yet numb me, is the new ‘me’? Feeling the guilt of no longer being ‘me’, I question how on earth my amazing not-husband could want to be with this ‘new me’?! I ponder why he’s sticking around for all of this? Then he reminds me how much he loves me AND my family and I feel a little brighter. But that doesn’t last long, I’ve become hyper alert, I can’t switch off, I’m organising things in my head, I’m not present in the moment. The constant thoughts about what comes next…

The Final Curtain

21st April, Easter Sunday, 2019

My not-husband and I had been on a rare afternoon out together. A beautiful walk around a forest and a lake. Tranquility and calm. Just perfect!

1800hrs – On our way home, we popped in to see Dad. He’d said he was feeling pretty awful but had another chest infection, so that was to be expected. All seemed well, we chatted about our day out and caught up with my Auntie who was visiting. We said goodbye, I said, “I love you”, I hugged him and I gave him a kiss.

That was the last time.

2256hrs – “I think you need to be here”. We’d been here before more than once and as we’d only seen Dad a few hours earlier we weren’t expecting it. We sorted ourselves out, settled the dogs and got in the car. They only live 4 minutes away, so we’ve always been on hand.

2315hrs – “You’re too late, he’s at peace now”.

How can this be possible?! How could it happen so quick? Why did I not know earlier? What if I’d have left quicker? Did he wait for me to not be there?

I could torture myself with these thoughts all day long but the truth is, ‘it wasn’t meant to be’.

My beautiful, kind, caring, intelligent, amazing Dad had gone. It was all over! The sorrow hit. The tears flowed. My heart broke for my dear Mum who’d lost her soul mate. How would she be able to carry on without him? How would any of us cope with this huge loss in our life?

Published on 20th May, in loving memory of my incredible Dad, who would have been 61 today!

The Not Wife

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Part Two – After The Loss – coming soon.

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