Miscarriage Stories: I had three miscarriages in one year

We asked readers to share their experiences of miscarriage. These are their stories

First-person accounts of miscarriage in a pandemic

‘We don’t need to be fixed, we just need you to understand that our grief’ "I'm so sorry for your loss"

This is a phrase I've heard more times than the average person should, five in total. Primarily it's been from the midwife or obstetrician as she turns to tell me there is no longer a heartbeat.

I would count myself as a very observant person, so I almost know what to expect now when I see those shoulders slump, those eyebrows tense and that staggered, sorrowful sentence about to come from the mouth of the woman holding a machine with my world at her fingertips.

I never realised just how an early loss can change someone's life. But it absolutely does. It changes the woman, the man, the laughter, the marriage, family life, extended family life, life with friends, fitness, diet, work. It changes EVERYTHING. Milestones, due dates, birthdays, anniversaries....it's almost impossible to wonder what life would have been like. And the killing thing – there’s no one in the world to tell you how lasting these thoughts and feelings will be.

I am married to my childhood sweetheart, the best in the world. I couldn't imagine life without him. Just before we were married we found out we were pregnant. A surprise, rollercoaster of emotions, but one we accepted fairly quickly and with happiness. Little did we know that seven weeks later, on the morning of our friend’s wedding, I would cough and this pregnancy would detach from me.

Ready to head to the church what do you do? I sat on the toilet, we cried, said goodbye to this surprise and headed to celebrate the nuptials. Later in the church it all caught up with me. Looking back, people must have thought I was overjoyed for our friends with the tears I cried. No one ever knows what’s going on in someone’s life do they? And that couple, to this day, still don’t.

We got married and immediately tried again. We were so lucky to fall pregnant quite quickly - this time not even thinking we were at a slightly higher risk. We counted down the days to our public scan at 12 weeks. I had no symptoms but just thought, hey, I’m one of the lucky few. I still remember how our scan was at 8am and on a cold November morning, it’s a very dark place to be, to be waiting for the Early Pregnancy Unit to open. Fast forward to gel on the belly and then silence in the room. 

“Maybe we’ll just check you internally” is what the nurse uttered to herself. 

Looking back, she knew what was coming. No heartbeat, gone since about 9 weeks. We were stunned. Completely stunned.

My husband hugged me tightly and I remember feeling so overwhelmingly ashamed and sorry that I couldn’t give him joy that day. All I wanted was to put my underwear on, race out of the place and hide under a duvet. Then came telling the families. The confusion, questions, sheer bewilderment of them all was another rip to our hearts. I was let out of the hospital that day and told to “let it happen naturally”.

I was given next to no advice on what to expect, how to handle any physical symptom. Six days later I was admitted to hospital in excruciating pain and with much blood loss, where I stayed for two nights with constant pain killing injections. Scheduled for surgery it was like my body finally gave in and let go naturally itself. We drove home feeling empty.

Our third pregnancy lasted only days. They call it a chemical. Doesn’t come without it’s scars, hurt and loss of belief and hope. It was during the first Covid lockdown, Easter week. Lots of chocolate eggs were consumed that week. Our brother and sister in-law announced their first pregnancy, and it didn't come without its sting too.

Following this we decided to undergo testing, our gut instinct being that there must be some issue. All early testing came back totally fine, even super healthy! We were told it was just ‘bad luck’ and to keep trying.

In August of that year we fell pregnant once again. Getting past week 5,6,6,7 we said to ourselves ok ‘this must be it’. We went private this time, saying to ourselves that any issues may be detected sooner. We talked about names, what he/she would be like.

I felt my tummy, wrapped myself in cotton wool, walked gently, ate healthily, slept, took my folic acid. Then one day at work I got cramps and knew this was it. Sitting in that waiting room alone, surrounded by ladies with big, beautiful, glowing bellies is a feeling that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to shake off.

I felt inadequate, broken, unworthy of even being there, all the while my support system sat outside, unable to be there for me. We still had a heartbeat at that stage but I was told to be ‘pessimistic rather than optimistic’. It’s funny the little sentences that stay with you months later. A week of waiting.

We went for a second opinion, who told us all looked well, to be hopeful. Then back to our own obstetrician a few days later who confirmed the lack of heartbeat and scheduled the operation. I feel like this was when hope was at its lowest.

What followed then was extensive testing, which I chose to take part in. Testing for areas like blood clotting, Natural Killer cells, gluten intolerance, cysts, PCOS, thyroid, karyotyping, antinuclear antibodies, testosterone. You name it I think I’ve had it. Injections, tablets, pessaries, ovulation tests, follicle scanning, pregnancy tests, medicinal mushrooms, supplements, steroids, intaralipids. Gynaecologists, GP’s, fertility specialists, dieticians, nutritionists, tarot readers, clairvoyants, reiki practitioners, bone setters – I’ve been to them all!

Our fifth and final pregnancy hit the hardest. It’s amazing how the body can react physically to a shock. We went weekly to our new obstetrician this time around. She knew all of our tests, our medical history. She knew how nervous I was.

Again, here I was in a clinic, surrounded by women with precious bulging bellies. Bodies which I’m sure they looked at and said Jesus I’m getting bigger by the day. But as I sat there I used to think to myself, ‘please God give me that. Give me my head stuck in a toilet, my face turned green with nausea. Give me sleepless, uncomfortable nights, backache, constipation, waddling to work, kicks to the ribcage, on the loo non-stop’. I wouldn’t complain for a second. Again, I’d feel like I didn’t belong there. I hadn’t even so much as bloat. I felt perfectly fine, had more energy from the steroids I was pumping into my system if anything. Each time rescheduling my next appointment the secretary would get confused and ask “but why are you here so early, 12 weeks is generally the first scan time”. I’d have to re-explain myself, my miscarriages, my failures as a woman to keep a pregnancy going.

I know each woman wants her partner with her for these important scans. I know each scan is nerve-wrecking, no matter how far you are into your pregnancy. But I do feel strongly that women in situations such as ours, need their other halves with them. At any stage, this pregnancy could be whipped away from us, we are statistically much more likely to miscarry having undergone previous recurring losses. This was exactly what I headed into. The long sigh, shrugged shoulders, creased brows and ‘I’m so so sorry’. This time I think I roared or screamed. I asked how could this happen again, I cursed. I was all on my own yet again. I didn’t know this stranger. She didn’t know me, not the real me. Not the me who said a prayer each night that this would work out. I thought of my husband sitting out in the car waiting on that text. How was I going to tell him this again?

The experiences of infertility, recurrent miscarriage and loss are unique to each person and everyone, including partners, processes it differently. The one piece of advice I would give is validation. We don’t need to be fixed, we just need you to understand that our grief, hurt, anger, frustration, fear and disappointment are acceptable and giving us space to process and play out how we feel is the absolute best thing you could do. Now, I feel as if no one in the world knows how I feel except my husband. It has brought us closer together, but that doesn’t happen immediately. It takes time, work, and commitment.

I know life isn’t easy. We all have some sort of battles to fight. I used to feel that everything happens for a reason – but now I’m just not so sure. Right now, I’m working on trying to sit in the perfect moments as they arise, knowing that this struggle won’t last forever and better days are coming.

‘I had grown so used to the protocol around miscarriages and D&Cs, but I was angry’ 

These were the words that I became so familiar with hearing as I went through my experience of having kids.

My journey to parenthood began in 2011, I was delighted, if not slightly surprised and nervous to find out I was pregnant in May 2011. The first twelve weeks went by without much incident and I felt relieved to have made it through the first trimester and happily went into the maternity hospital for my first scan.

I was alone, my husband was away with work. The midwife did the scan and then uttered those devastating words ‘ there is no heartbeat’. I was numb, a missed miscarriage, something I had never heard about. I was brought to a private room and awaited the doctor. I rang my husband and told him the news. The doctor arrived and went through my options… medical management, surgical management or wait and see.

I chose medical management and went home, how I drove I will never know. To make a long story short the medical management option did not work and two weeks later I was scheduled for a D&C. I recovered and returned to work. I wanted to put it all behind me and get back to trying to start a family as soon as possible.

But my body had other ideas and try as I might, I could not fall pregnant. Eventually some eight months later I reached a point where I had to face up to the fact of accepting and grieving this miscarriage before I could move on.

And that is what I did. I went to counselling which I found brilliant and I grieved and cried for the baby I lost and I was kind and forgiving to myself. Thankfully I got pregnant and my beautiful son was born in early 2013.

That was it, the very common miscarriage that all the medical professionals spoke about was behind me, not to be repeated or so I thought. Trying for a second baby again proved challenging but I got pregnant in 2014. Unfortunately I started bleeding and when I went to the hospital the next day I was given the same news ‘I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat’.

Same protocol, brought to a private room, wait for a crazy amount of time for a doctor to go through your options. Thankfully my husband was with me this time. D&C was scheduled and performed. This time I knew to be kind to myself, take time to grieve and to go back to counselling. Fortunately I again got pregnant and my gorgeous girl was born in late 2015.

Life was busy with two small kids, but we knew we wanted a third. In 2017 I fell pregnant but again started bleeding, rang the hospital, went in, and again the same devastating news, there is no heartbeat. Had a D&C, went home, scheduled counselling sessions, some TLC etc. 

I had grown so used to the protocol around miscarriages and D&C’s but I was angry. Very angry. 

Why was this happening? What was more frustrating was that even though I’d had three miscarriages, they were not consecutive and therefore I did not qualify for the Pregnancy Loss Clinic and there was no option to pursue this as a private patient.

In the midst of my quest to get answers as to why this was happening and to try to prevent it from happening again I found myself pregnant again. My joy was short lived however as two days later I once again started bleeding. This experience was different from the previous miscarriages as there had been no confirmed pregnancy in a Doctor’s surgery followed by referral to a hospital and potentially early scans. Was this a ‘real pregnancy? I could not believe that this was once again happening. Surgery was not an option and I had to go down the ‘expectant management’ option to wait until hcg levels were reducing and eventually the pregnancy passed. This was a very tough time, my fourth miscarriage in six years.

Time was against me as I was getting older and the probability of another miscarriage was increasing with my advanced age and the chances of getting pregnant were reducing. Strangely enough I found that as I got older I found it easier to get pregnant. I understand this goes against medical expertise but I found that there was less pressure as I already had two healthy kids. After much persuading the Pregnancy Loss Clinic said that they would see me but the next available appointment was three months away. A wonderful nurse from the clinic rang me, I told her my story and she advised me to continue to try to get pregnant as with each passing month my chances of getting pregnant were reducing and the risk of miscarriage was continuing to increase.

It was great advice, I found myself pregnant and in 2018 gave birth to my much longed for third baby. During that last pregnancy I received fantastic care. My consultant listened empathetically to my long story of pregnancies to this point. She answered my never ending questions and provided me with much needed stats on pregnancy loss and successful outcomes.

In the end despite numerous tests no reason for my recurrent miscarriages could be found.

All my babies are rainbow babies, each one born after a miscarriage. We planted trees in our garden to symbolise the babies we longed for, loved dearly but never got to meet. I love looking at those cherry blossoms in early summer and remember those hard times and how far we as a family have come.

I attend the annual service of remembrance for babies lost in pregnancy and I shed a tear along with all the other families who have lost babies in a similar fashion. I’m convinced the first two babies were girls and the second two were boys. No medical evidence to support this but I’m going with a Mother’s intuition. I have names for them all. I light candles for them, pray to them and on occasions call on them for help if I’m going through a difficult time. They shaped my life in so many ways and those miscarriages made me a stronger person.

Recently US President Joe Biden wrote to the inspirational Adam King from the Late Late Toy Show. In the letter President Biden shares overcoming problems speaking as a boy and describes it as ‘its part of my story’. These miscarriages and those four babies are part of my story. It was very tough getting through the miscarriages but these challenges have made me who I am today.

‘My fourth pregnancy gave me my beautiful baby girl’ 

I had three miscarriages in one year! It was 2019. It was horrendous and I really felt like I was never going to be a mom or make my partner a dad. I was losing hope. When I got pregnant for the fourth time that year, I had decided that if it wasn't successful, I was giving up.

Thankfully my fourth pregnancy gave me my beautiful baby girl.

I think it's important to point out that during this time, I was under the care of a wonderful private Consultant called Prof Amanda Cotter. Only for her extensive care and support, I don't think I would have my baby today.

They finally agreed to it. I don't know why they would want to put women through more trauma while already going through a traumatic and such an emotional experience already. They seemed to have little disregard to the fact that I was going through a miscarriage and wouldn't want to be awake while they removed the 'products of conception' It was a very lonely and isolating experience.

I am very scared for my next pregnancy, the thoughts of having to go in myself anticipating the worst news yet again, it's not fair that women and partners are suffering unnecessary pain and nothing is being done while the rest of the country is reopening, maternity is just forgotten about.

‘After my third I then asked and I was told not to worry’ 

I am 26 years old, I have had four miscarriages. My first was in 2014, my second was the start of 2018 and third was the end of 2018 and my fourth was middle of 2019.

Each time it happened it didn't get any easier. When I had my first miscarriage I knew something wasn't right. I knew I wasn't going to be able to get pregnant without help.

Each time I had a miscarriage I went and spoke to my GP and asked for help, it was always brushed off. The one person who I thought would help me wouldn't. The reason being that you have to have three miscarriages in a row before they will even do bloods.

After my third I then asked and I was told not to worry. I am still only young as I still had another 10 years to continue trying. Which to me wasn't what I wanted to hear. I wanted to start having a family then. Not in 10 years.

That day my GP told me my best decision is to just forget about it and move on, I heard this comment from a lot of people, it's like just because you were only pregnant for a few weeks it doesn't matter and it isn't a loss.

I left the practice that day crying, couldn't go to work, couldn't face anyone. The one place that I thought would be able to help actually made things worse.

I just couldn't understand. Close family around me was pregnant at the time and I just couldn't bring myself to speak or even go to see them. I was just so jealous of each and every pregnant woman around me. My heart would just sink even just looking at them. It got to a stage where I couldn't even speak about it and I would be crying.

I didn’t want people to feel pity on me or my partner. But take our feelings into consideration.

I could feel myself getting very negative. I just couldn't understand. It felt like the more I went on the more bad news was coming my way. My feeling was that I just wasn't able to catch a break. By then I wasn't feeling happy and my mental health was starting to be affected.

I changed my GP and asked to be referred. I finally got to see a specialist. After lots of bloods taken between me and my partner we got confirmation that I have antiphospholipid antibodies. Which is basically my white blood cells attacking the fetus and this has confirmed as to why I cannot carry past 6 weeks. Once I get pregnant I will have to take medication to help continue my pregnancy.

My GP used to brush me off but I knew something wasn't right. Which to me was like a weight lifted off my shoulders.

Following the bloods I got my first smear test at the age of 25 after being refused previously as my issue wasn't getting pregnant, it was carrying and the bloods confirmed why, so no need before I was 25.

From getting my smear it then confirmed that I was at the highest stage for abnormal cells, which followed into getting a biopsy done which then a colonoscopy (LLETZ Treatment).

From this point my mental health went downhill. I couldn't grasp what was going on.

A year later I got the all-clear and I have since been referred to a fertility clinic. So fingers crossed the future is starting to look bright!