It’s been a while since I’ve posted here.  I haven’t really been in the frame of mind as so much has been going on.  I didn’t really feel it appropriate to write it all in here but now I think, why not?

This year has been a difficult one.  In April we suffered our seventh miscarriage.  I was seven weeks pregnant when I began spotting.  An appointment for a scan was made for me at the Early Pregnancy Unit at the hospital a few days later, where we saw a beating heart on a baby little over a week younger than my dates.  The sonographer said that the pregnancy was viable and that I should go to the next department and book my 12 week scan.  I went home but over the next few days the bleeding increased, and on the Saturday, exactly a week after it began I passed by baby complete in the bag of waters like a coin dropping into the toilet bowl.  I fished it out, cleaned myself up and called Mike in.  I unwrapped the tissue I’d placed around it and showed him it.  So tiny.  That night we buried it under the plum tree.  The sadness and grief overwhelmed me.  I couldn’t believe that we had lost our seventh.  Seven live children and seven losses.  But all people seem to see when they look at us is the seven live children, not knowing how much we’ve been through to have them. 

In August, I found out I was pregnant again.  A week and a half later I lost it again.  I called my doctor who asked if I’d ever been referred for investigation.  I had, back in 2000, after the fifth miscarriage.  We were refused as we already had children.  We had three at the time.  Even after my third miscarriage (two live children at the time), I walked out of the room in which I had minutes ago had my scan to be told that my baby had gone, when the nurse told me “You already have two children.  What on earth do you want any more for?!”. 

I told the doctor that I didn’t expect anyone would help us now, as they didn’t help us years ago when we had fewer children.  He said that it didn’t matter how many children we had, we still had a right to know what is going wrong, as something surely is.  He gave me the forms to check for antiphospholipid syndrome (where clots form and stop the embryo from growing, resulting in miscarriage), and referred me to the gynaecologist. 

The results from the blood test came back normal.  To be honest it disappointed me a little, as at least it would have been a reason, something to explain our losses, and something which may have been helped with aspirin and heparin injections.  I felt we were back to square one, of not knowing.

Our appointment with the gynaecologist was on Friday just gone.  A few days before I had a positive pregnancy test.  I spent the time in the run up to the appointment feeling negative.  I knew of the reception we’d get even before we saw anyone.  For some reason, you aren’t supposed to want more than a reasonable number of children.  Reasonable in whose eyes I’m not sure but there is little comfort or sympathy if you experience losses as you are expected not to feel hurt or pain as “you already have “x” amount of children already so be grateful.”  Of course we’re grateful, but despite having seven children we have still been through eight miscarriages.  Eight times you hope for something and feel crushed.  Eight faces we won’t see and eight hands we won’t hold.  But somehow we’re not supposed to feel the pain of any more losses.  And heaven forbid should we actually admit that we want more children!

We walked into the consulting room for the appointment and Mrs Kahn didn’t seem very impressed that we had the three youngest with us.  She asked for the history so gave her the run down of living children DOB’s and miscarriages. I told her I had a positive test on Tuesday and gave her a urine sample but she didn’t seem to believe me and started writing out blood test forms for Mike and I to have chromosomal tests done.  She said that if I was pregnant I couldn’t have these tests done as they wouldn’t be accurate, and I told her that I was pregnant.  She carried on writing the tests and we went back over that conversation (“if you are pregnant…”, “yes, I am…”) but still she continued writing.  The nurse then walked in and she looked up and exclaimed “It IS positive!”.  “Yes, I know” I told her.  So she then put all the forms (three or four of them) that she’d written out to the side and said there wasn’t anything they could do.  I asked if they would monitor me at all and she said no.  I asked if there were any tests they could do during the early pregnancy to see what was going on and she said no.  I asked if I could have a hcg and progesterone test carried out and she said no.  I said I was sure there were some tests they could do to find out what if anything was causing the miscarriages and then Paddy (14 months old) started crying.  She huffed in his direction several times, and rolled her eyes at him, then asked us to go outside and she’d call us back in after she’d spoken with the consultant.  Five minutes later she beckoned me in and said “I only want you in here.  They can wait.” and I said I wanted my husband with me.  She huffed and rolled her eyes again.  We went in and she said the consultant said I could have the hcg and progesterone tests done but even if they showed anything wrong they wouldn’t help me.  I asked what would happen now and she said if I miscarried again I would have to try to re-arrange another appointment like todays via a referral for six weeks afterwards, then have the chromosomal blood tests done which she doesn’t think would show anything anyway, and if they do show anything they will make a decision ”about” four months later as to whether they will help us.  No other tests are possible, and if they are possible we can’t have them. 
 
So the long and short of it is: No monitoring, no investigation, no nothing. Waste of time and hope.  Two referrals, one with five miscarriages and three live children, and eight miscarriages and seven live children, and both refused.  Why aren’t we worthy of help?  Why does this keep happening?

This morning I woke up, went to the toilet and have begun spotting again.  It seems likely that this will be our ninth loss.  My faith is being truly shaken, we have nobody to turn to and nobody to help us.  I’m supposed to be strong, be grateful, and carry on as normal pretending everything is ok.  After all, I’ve already got seven children, right?  But having them isn’t making me numb to feeling the pain of losing another.  I wasn’t born with a limited amount of love to give.  I’ve got plenty of it left.  We shouldn’t be denied help that another person would receive in the same circumstances, but for the fact that they only had one or two children.  Finding support is hard and this is why I’ve resisted posting about it here, as I expect to receive some very negative comments. 

I don’t know why this is happening.  I feel like I’m being punished for something I’ve done.  My head feels so empty yet so full of questions.   There’s nothing left we can do that I can see. 

I can’t believe that the bleeding has begun again.  I can’t believe that I am dealing with this a ninth time.  I can’t believe nobody wants to help us find out why.  If you could please spare a prayer for a good outcome, and if not that then the strength to deal with whatever we face.