After two miscarriages of three babies, two surgeries, and too many scans, we may well be ready to officially start trying once again. It’s been four months exactly since I had the devastating ultrasound that showed a perfect looking little guy with an inexplicable absence of life. My heart still aches, but it is not as acute. I still think about fertility, pregnancy and miscarriage every single day, but not for hours on end. And I’ve only cried perhaps a couple of times this last month. I try and convince myself that these four months have allowed me to heal somewhat, but I cannot help feeling somewhat cheated.
I’m lucky that I have had such a supportive husband. Although he sometimes struggles to understand the depths of my grief and preoccupation with what has happened and what the future holds, he has been incredible. I’ve been upset and withdrawn more often than not and for months on end. And he has at the same time dealt with his own grief. Support is so critical after a miscarriage, I cannot stress that enough. If you do not receive the support you need from family and friends, seek it from somewhere else.
My husband and I have yet to decide what to do with our little guys in my bedroom drawer and the kitchen freezer. In some ways I am loath to do anything that would see them leave me. In other ways, I know that my husband is right that we should look to honour and commemorate them. I think I’m now ready to face that. I’m thinking of getting a tattoo of three little birds, swallows, somewhere to provide a permanent reminder that they will always be loved.