Life before our Rainbow

Quick Trigger Warning - This post discusses pregnancy loss. I have been as honest as I can about my experience and I hope I can make at least one person feel less alone however please don’t read if you don’t feel comfortable or ready to do so.

Our story starts in January 2025. We had gotten married the October before and knew that starting a family would be a priority. We gave ourselves a few months of enjoying married life and adventuring and then uttered the phase “let’s just stop using protection and see what happens”. We weren’t actively ‘trying’ to get pregnant but wanted to let whatever happens happen and then, if after a year, nothing happens then we will do something about it. I think in the back of my mind we were trying, I would lie a little longer in bed afterwards and kind of half arsedly tilt my pelvis but I wasn’t thinking it would actually do a lot.

Well… perhaps it helped. I fell pregnant almost instantly. I couldn’t quite believe it. My periods were very regular and being even just a day late never really happened so I knew something was different quickly. But I waited, I waited the whole week to see if it arrived. It was all I could think about. I didn’t tell anyone but each day I got little butterflies of nerves, of expectation. I eventually couldn’t wait any longer. On the way back from a trip to the local farm (where I consciously didn’t touch animals or lift my nephew up), I stopped into Tesco and picked up a test. I was so nervous to tell Jon, he had no idea what had been racing through my mind all week. Normally we communicate everything but for some reason I wanted to keep this secret until I was ready to find out. The longest 3 minutes and 2 very clear blue lines later, I was pregnant. When you spend your whole life trying to not get pregnant, it is very strange to reset your brains reaction and be excited and not terrified.

We told our parents fairly quickly but always had in the back of our minds “don’t tell anyone before 12 weeks”… well what a load of bollocks. Tell your trusted circle, whatever happens, you’re going to need/want them to know. Luckily I also told my best friend, and I am so pleased I did. Having her support and love throughout the whole journey has meant so much and wouldn’t have happened if I had listened to ‘the rule’.

A few weeks into the pregnancy things started to go a bit iffy. I was sorting the garden with my parents and probably over doing it a little bit (I’m not one for slowing down) when I first experienced a little bit of bleeding. We didn’t think much of it and decided to just keep an eye on it. A few days later I then had another bleed, slightly bigger, and decided to ring the early pregnancy unit. They let us come for an early scan (I was only about 5 weeks) just to check on things. Unfortunately we were too early to hear any heartbeat however there was something there so they decided they just wanted us to come back in a few weeks to confirm everything was okay. Safe to say, that was the longest few weeks of my life.

Over those few weeks we had to deal with the pretty stressful mortgage stuff. My hormones were all over the shop and I was getting extremely emotional and stressed about everything. I remember uttering the words “perhaps now isn’t a good time for a baby”. Do I think uttering, or even thinking, those words caused what happened next to happen, of course not, not now, but at the time, I wonder if I felt like I had caused it. Somehow manifested it.

Our next appointment was on the 7th February. My parents were away in France. Waiting for the appointment, I’m really not sure how I felt. Nervous. Excited. Tense with anticipation. You hear of people having losses but never think it will be you. We go into the scanning room and I lie back. Both Jon and I are overly chatty and positive, as usual for us. Silence as they scan. I knew something wasn’t right before she told us. “Unfortunately there is no heartbeat. Your baby hasn’t developed in the last few weeks so it was never viable”. My heart literally dropped. I remember feeling like gravity had become stronger, pulling my heart to the floor. My brain and my body felt like it was shattering into a million pieces. But I just showed sadness on my face, no tears. I didn’t want to embarrass myself or make a fuss. We were taken into a separate room and told to wait for the midwife who would talk us through our options. The door closed. I broke. I felt like I couldn’t breath. I kept apologising (words I repeated constantly for the next few weeks), I believed it was my fault, I was broken and I had let everyone down.

We then spoke to this lovely midwife, she had this calming Scottish voice and was so gentle. She explained all our options and in the end I opted for a D&C. I hated the idea of being awake at all during any kind of procedure, of there being any chance of seeing anything. Normally I am medically fascinated but this was too much. As we left the hospital I felt numb, Jon called my mum to let her know and then just went home. I sat there, I didn’t know what to do or how to feel. Luckily (can we call it lucky at this point) I only had to wait a couple of days for my operation.

11th February - I decided to go into my operation with a positive attitude, it is definitely a front to cover my emotions but it helps get me through the tougher times. I wanted my mum there. Even at 33 I still need my mum by my side, she is a rock and a source of comfort. She is silly and naughty and brings happiness even when things seem dire. When we arrived I was asked if I was happy for a student to be present, and if you have read my other blog you’ll know, my answer was of course Yes! I wanted her to learn about something that could be very difficult to handle and it turned out it was her first ever surgery, I felt honoured. As I got wheeled to the theatre we were joking around and chatting. The anaesthetists were lovely, explaining everything and being distracting until I fell asleep. When I woke up in the recovery room I felt groggy but okay and then went back up to mum to fully recover. It took a while for me to be discharged as I had to have an Anti-D injection (let me tell you, that is one bloody painful injection. What a beast). Whilst I was waiting my surgeon came to chat. She wasn’t 100% happy with how it had gone. I was supposed to have had a muscle relaxing pessary but they didn’t do it for some reason, therefore she couldn’t get in as easily as she would have liked and may have missed some. Great! Fucking wonderful! I had to take a pregnancy test in a few weeks to make sure. If it came back positive then I would need to have the operation all over again! I think you can sense where this is going….

I tried my best to get on with life whilst I waited to the test and in turn have the second operation. I spent time with family, went to the cinema, and Jon and I went to London and enjoyed a night away and a Michelin starred dinner. I cried a lot… almost because I felt like I should because in reality I just felt empty. I felt useless and a let down. Both Jon and I put on a smile during family occasions with my gorgeous nephews. We even looked after one for the afternoon just a few days after my operation. That was like a punch in the gut, smiling and laughing when all we wanted to do was cry. It was so lovely to be with him and he is so cute but still it hurt. Similarly, another nephew was born just a week and a half after it all happened. All this joy and happiness surrounded us. How could we feel our feelings and mourn our loss when we were surrounded by good things. My body and brain felt so confused and conflicted that it just shut down.

5th March - My second operation was not such a positive experience. I felt broken going into it. I didn’t want to be there again. I felt let down and I couldn’t trust the medical staff anymore. I went down to theatre. This time the anaesthetists attached things to my head (they didn’t before), they didn’t really explain anything and I was confused and anxious as I went to sleep. I believe this led me to have the worst panic attack I have ever had. As I was coming round in the recovery room I went straight into a panic. I was shaking uncontrollably, sobbing inconsolably and calling out to be held. No one would touch me, no one would hold my hand or hug me. They just looked at me, perhaps confused, perhaps not knowing what to do. I was taken back up to the ward earlier than I should have been. I was wheeled into my bay, where my mum was waiting and just left. She had no idea what was happening or why I was in such a state. No one spoke to her or told her anything. She said she had never seen me to pale and so broken. I sobbed and shook for what felt like hours. I was sick. She held me tight and eventually I calmed down enough to be discharged. I am yet to go back into a theatre, and am so pleased I didn’t have a C-Section because the thought of being in a surgery again brings panic and dread to my chest, even now. It was, without a doubt, one of the worst moments of my life.

After the bravery of the last few weeks, everything changed. I was broken. I felt abused, devastated and I couldn’t see the light in anything.

I have bullet pointed my thoughts feelings during this time as it is hard to form into cohesive sentences but I will try.

• When I used to walk the dog I would listen to podcasts, my favourites being “Happy Mum Happy Baby” and “Parenting Hell”… I couldn’t bare to listen to them anymore! They bought so much pain and to this day I still haven’t bought myself to listen to either of them again. Instead I would download comfort tv shows like Big Bang Theory to listen to on walks, something with minimal baby chat.

• I felt like an imposter. My miscarriage was so early, was I entitled to feel this way, to be part of a club that included women that had lost babies much later than me. What right did I have to compare my experiences to theirs. Was I being selfish, was I just pathetic and a bit dramatic. I felt so alone as I didn’t want to make a fuss. I know now that I have every right to be in the club, to share my experiences and to feel what I felt. No matter the circumstances, I am a woman who has experienced loss, who has lost a part of themselves and will always have those memories of heartache.

• Social media become a place of hell. I kept getting targeted ads for parenting or I would see friends post pictures of joyful times with their babies. I was becoming jealous. How come they could have a baby and I couldn’t, what made them better than me, more deserving than me. I was becoming consumed with negative feelings and hating myself for them. I had to come off it completely. I had to isolate myself to protect myself. Honestly, one of the best decisions.

• I found that I could no longer trust my body. It had let me down. It couldn’t even miscarry properly. How was I ever going to trust it again to hold a baby and support us through that process. I still struggle to trust that it knows what it is doing but it got me to where I am now, with a beautiful little girl.

• Jon and I tried to do things we couldn’t have done if I was pregnant… mostly going to fancy restaurants and eat whatever I wanted and drink lots of fancy wine! We focused on us and reconnected again. After feeling so abused by medical staff, it took a little while to me to feel comfortable letting my guard down and enjoying ‘alone time’ again. We knew we wanted a child and in the end we decided not to wait as long as perhaps we should have. If I had waited too long, I’m not sure it would have happened. I had to ‘get back on the bike’ (possibly a slightly dodgy but accurate analogy).

I could not have got through this hell if it hadn’t have been for the support of my family and friends. If I had chosen not to tell anyone before 12 weeks then I wouldn’t have been showered with all the love and comfort that I was given. In my darkest times my best friend showed up for me. She knew I was struggling and held my hand. She took everything at my pace. Both mine and Jon’s families supported us and made sure we knew they were there. We were not okay and they knew we weren’t but they let us ride the wave until we were ready.

So this is my story. My journey to find a beautiful rainbow.

15th February 2026 - Bronwyn was born. Just over a year after our story began!

Everyones stories are different and everyones stories are valid! Tell the people you trust, experience all that life brings with them, both the good and the bad.