Following my last blog post about the third miscarriage I unfortunately had another rollercoaster ride to follow that at the time, felt like a real hurdle on this journey.
Our third miscarriage happened in late November 2015. At the time I was heavily supported by my parents, a close friend and my boyfriend.
Shortly after the miscarriage and two weeks of leave from work, I decided to return to work feeling desperate to return to normality ahead of the festive Christmas season. But I knew that something had changed.
Upon reflection I had absorbed myself so heavily in the joy of a third pregnancy and then the emotions of a miscarriage that my relationship with my boyfriend wasn’t high on my radar.
He had seemed to be ticking along as normal – working, socialising and still being a rock for me to talk to. Yet we became more distant. He blamed work, I blamed other factors. Eventually it came to light that there had been some foul play that we just wouldn’t overcome. After 7 years together our relationship came to an end.
I won’t go into the details here but inevitably it felt like a roadblock. After so much time together and so many experiences through our early to mid twenties, it was a significant change that really sparked my thoughts around other potential routes to parenting.
In my last post I mentioned feeling that the third miscarriage changed something in me. With so much upheaval it incidentally opened my eyes that the road isn’t going to be predictably smooth. We can’t always count on the path that we choose; having an alternative plan is the only way that I felt able to retain some control over the situation that life decided to present me with.
With this in mind, I started to really research alternative options to motherhood. Adoption. Surrogacy. These are all factors that I’m very open to learning more whilst I continue to try understanding more about uterus didelphys.
I can’t express enough how important this corner has been for me to turn. My nearest and dearest regularly tell me that I’m so strong and that they simply don’t know how I do it. The fact is, there are so many dark moments. I’ve often put a smile on and simply got on with it. But these experiences really taught me that simply sticking my head in the sand would not keep me strong for much longer.
My GP has recently offered counselling as a form of therapy that’s recommended for women through the course of miscarriage. At present I’ve opted out. But I’m working on chasing my demons away and learning that this isn’t my fault. And it’s not something that I have to do alone.