I have started introducing myself as 'I've had a miscarriage' to stop people pointing out that I am fat. Perhaps this is morbid but I don't really care, plus they look incredibly embarrassed after saying, "your bumps growing", for me to then reply "I'm not pregnant any more". After introducing myself I usually start bawling my eyes out so i'm not really sure which is worse. I must admit it is incredible deceptive to still have a bump, sometimes even I think I am still pregnant, which is silly because I'm not.One thing I have found is that Primark leggings are making me look less pregnant (only the baggy ones, tight ones make me look horrendous like a swollen hippo).
I have had to introduce myself to so many people recently i'm starting to feel famous. I thought that when this happened to me I would want to lock myself away from the world, close the curtains and listen to Simon and Garfunkel's 'sound of silence' on repeat. But I don't (well I do listen to Simon and Garfunkel). Through out this week I have been visited by a bereavement midwife and my midwife from when I was pregnant, I do feel like this helps, both are all kinds of helpful, they answer questions non judgmentally and go above and beyond their post, my bereavement midwife even offered to take my sick note to work for me. My husband on the other hand looks incredibly fed up of the streams of people, he would rather not be there when they arrive, I make him (even though I feel mean). He mainly wants to lock himself away, not talk about it unless hes asked about it, I think this is a man thing. I have learnt how he copes with things, I know when to worry about him.
Anyway health professionals I have seen this week so far include my midwives and my doctor.This was mainly over two days (a lot of people in two days). All of them have had totally different advice, my poor GP panicked when I spoke to him. He insisted on apologizing about twenty times before stating that I might not be able to carry babies, and then continued to apologize another twenty times while trying to get out of the hole he just dug himself. Luckily I can see the funny side to most things, and I didn't take much offense. Until later when I had convinced myself that I was a barren dried up old lady with no hope (luckily my husband talked some sense into me).
Lesson number seven: Doctors don't always know what to say or do in sensitive situations (though after working with them for a while now I had already figured this out)
Both my bereavement midwife and midwife were much more helpful. I cried a lot with my midwife, mainly about the little things that really hurt, like the cot that was up in our bedroom (my poor husband had to put this away). One thing I really struggle with is looking at his scan photographs, it hurts to see that at one point he was ok, alive and well. By the time my bereavement midwife came round I felt a lot less teary (mainly because I think I had ran out of fluids).
Lesson number eight: Its ok to cry a lot apparently (even if it is over stupid things like chicken in the fridge)
One thing I do not want to forget is how amazing it felt while I was pregnant. Now I know i'm no longer pregnant and i'm not going to pretend I am, I just don't want to forget how I felt at that moment in my life when I had my baby with me. This often comes in the form of a theme song from a 1990's children's cartoon: Better than a dream.
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