Balmaha

I went for my scan yesterday, at 15 weeks + 1. It was at the Princess Royal. From the very start, it was a horrible experience, but neither of us were prepared for how it eventually turned out. When we turned up there were heavily pregnant women in their pyjamas, obviously admitted because they're in labour, at the front door having a cigarette. This really upsets me. The two women in reception took my notes and told me to sit down. After about 20 minutes of just sitting there, I went back up to ask what was happening and they sent me round to triage. We noticed that other people there had their scan pictures, and I hadn't been scanned yet, but we assumed they knew what they were doing. A midwife came out and called my name and asked me to come into a room and for Ed to stay in the waiting room for five minutes. She then explained that this was to give me an opportunity to tell her anything I might not want to say in front of Ed. This made me feel very uncomfortable, and I insisted that I wanted Ed with me, so she went and got him. Then she asked us for our scan picture and I explained I hadn't been scanned yet. Turns out this was a mistake, so she took us back to the main reception. The women there were quite rude and insisted that they had sent me for a scan, but I hadn't gone! Why on earth would I do that? Anyway, we were shown into a suite and doctor came in. She explained that she was learning how to scan and asked if I minded if she did mine. I said of course not - people have to learn and I have no objection to helping out in these situations. Then she commented on the fact that I didn't look 30 weeks, at which point it became apparent she had the wrong notes for me. Once we had sorted that out, I got up on the table, she applied the gel and put the probe on my tummy.

And that's where it all went horribly, horribly wrong.

There was nothing there. Just blackness. A big void. The doctor tried not to sound too worried, and told me it might just be her inexperience, but I knew that wasn't true. She went to fetch the senior sonographer, who did a transverse (across my tummy) and internal scan. She then told me, very matter-of-factly (which I did appreciate) that I have what is termed an "anembryonic pregnancy". Essentially, my baby died, probably between 6 and 8 weeks, and the embryo was absored by my body. All that's left now is a fluid-filled sac, but my body still thinks that I am pregnant. There is no explanation for it, it's just a random event.

We were taken to a small room and a midwife from the Early Pregnancy Unit came to see us to explain our options. She said that I could continue with the pregnancy until I miscarried naturally, which could be anything up to 20 weeks, have a "medical" miscarriage as an outpatient, meaning take some medication, go home and wait to miscarry, or have surgery. I chose to have surgery. I couldn't bear the thought of potentially another five weeks of pregnancy knowing that there was no baby, especially as I had been so sick. And the thought of going through the miscarriage at home was almost too much to take. This still meant a few days of waiting, which was a strange time of being caught in limbo. So the next day, Ed took me for a drive and lunch at the Oak Tree Inn at Balmaha. Not to take my mind off it, as that's not possible, but to be somewhere peaceful and beautiful where we could reflect and think about what this means for us.