Operation Day

My operation was due anytime between 5-7pm so they had asked me to get there for 2pm. I went to the ward where they sat me and my husband on a chair and gave me a bag, which had 2 robes (one for the front of me and one for the back to protect my modesty). A pair of slippers, those flight sock things and a horrid pair of paper knickers.
As I had not had this operation before and had not given birth I had to have a pill to open my cervix. These were two very small white pills I had to insert in to my vagina myself. This was quite easy to do and I went to the toilet to do it. Then I had to wait an hour or so for it to take effect. This meant I ended up being the last operation of the day, along with another girl in exactly the same boat as me. Like me, she also has a rhesus negative blood type. And she also lost her baby at 8 weeks. Although she had found out straight away due to an early scan and I hadn't found out till the 12 week scan.

You aren't taken down on a bed or a stretcher. You walk down to the theatre. This seemed weird to me but I guess it made sense as I wasn't ill. But it did feel a bit like I was walking the plank. I walked with the other girl and our husbands came as far as they could. We were then asked to wait in a small room. I had my operation on 1st December and I could hear the choir in the hospital reception singing carols. They were singing Ding Dong Merrily on High. It felt very haunting as it echoed around the hospital. It was a weird reminder that although the world had stopped for me the past two days, for everyone else it went on as usual. It also reminded me that this Christmas was going to be totally different to how I'd imagined. I'd so looked forward to having a little belly to show off to family. I was even looking forward to not drinking. To be made a fuss of and generally enjoy the family christmas vibe knowing that I was starting a little family of my own. As I write this, exactly one month on, I can tell you that this was the hardest christmas I've had. A time when you should be happy and having fun, playing games. Every day I'd try as hard as I could to put on a brave face, have a glass of wine, be life and soul. Then every night I'd get in bed and cry. I felt everyone thought everything was ok, that one month on I was over it. No one talked about it. Maybe no one wanted to ruin their Christmas by discussing it with me. But inside I was desperate to talk about it and so so sad this wasn't the Christmas I was hoping for and it wouldn't be the new year I'd been getting so excited about the past 3 months.

The operation is apparently only 5-10 minutes. That seemed very short for something that seemed so massive to me. They put me to sleep at 6pm and I remember waking up at 7pm. I was crying before I was fully awake. I was speaking but not in control of what I was saying. But I was crying and saying really softly 'I really wanted that baby, I really wanted to be a Mum' over and over, to any nurse who happened to be around me. I asked one nurse how many children she had, she said none and told me I was still young I'd have another chance (that old chestnut). Then I turned to another nurse and asked her if she believed in God. She said yes. I asked her if she thought my baby had gone to heaven. She said she didn't know.

It is like I was watching myself from out of my body and I was actually shocked at how deep the pain I was feeling must be for these things I was saying and asking to be coming out of my mouth before I was fully conscious of them.

As they wheeled me back to a ward where my husband was I cried all the way. When I saw him I just said 'it's gone'. I was so sad. It was like a new depth of sadness. The realisation that I was completely empty. I felt totally empty straight away. That feeling stays now. Its not an emptiness you can explain, its not like being hungry or anything like I've ever experienced. It is a very lonely place.

My sister in law had said to me something her doctor had said to her when she was having the operation and it really comforted me. She said to think of it like I was being cleared out to make a nice new clean home for the next one. That this one had prepared the way. That is some kind of comfort to me.

They put a rubbish pad on your rubbish paper knickers after the operation. I bled through that straight away. I could feel it running out. I couldn't really move yet as I was still so drugged up but luckily I'd thought of bringing some baby wipes and new knickers and pads with me from home so my husband helped wipe me down and put a new sanitary towel in a new pair of knickers and put them on me. For me that was just a beautiful moment. Watching him care for me and love me. It felt like a real intimate moment. Funny how even in the midst of darkness there is always a light. That was definitely a 'light' moment and one I'll never forget.

I was too lightheaded and kept going white and faint when I tried to get up so they wheeled me up to another ward where I could rest for an hour or so and then I went home. As soon as you come round they give you something to eat and drink which is great as you have to fast all day, even water. Then as long as you wee ok you can go home. At this point I was still bleeding a lot and had bled through the next pad in that hour. They said that was normal. I wasn't in too much pain, they give you some good painkillers. The pain is like a period plus a little more.

So I went home. So sad, so heartbroken, so tired. And empty.

Over.