Recovery

The physical side of things is easier to explain so I'll start with that. I was a bit woozy the next day and fragile but no pain as such. The rhesus negative injection in my leg was actually the sorest thing. But even that wasn't bad. I made the mistake of going back to work 2 days later. I am self employed and if you don't work you don't earn. I'd already lost out on a weeks worth of work (the busiest of my year ironically) so it pushed me to go in. Also, I didn't want my boss knowing about what had happened. I don't want him to know I'm planning on starting a family. I have no contract with him and I worry if he found out he'd want to get rid of me and replace me with a younger girl who isn't in the mind of child bearing. I have to protect my job so I thought I should go in. Big mistake. I forgot how physical my job is, I also didn't have a break to take my next set of painkillers and I ended up at the end of my day crying, being useless at my job, shaking and having stabbing pains. Not great. I wouldn't advise going in to work until you feel totally ready and even then think about how physical the job is. If you are having to pretend you're 100% like me as you hadn't told anyone what had happened then its a lot of strain to put yourself under emotionally too. I'm usually a very tough person emotionally and I was a wreck.

So I took it easy for another few days. I ended up back at work properly after another 5 days. However, my job is very physical so I think you might be able to return to an office job sooner. However, having said that, if you have a job where you can take sick leave I would totally advise it. I think you just have to keep reminding yourself to be gentle to yourself and not rush things. If I would have had sick leave I would have taken 2 weeks off for sure.

The period pains were fine and easily managed with some painkillers. I went back to my GP at one point as I had terrible pains but we worked out I was constipated. Never had constipation like that before. It was severe pain. I didn't poo for about 5 days after the op and after then it was like passing a brick. But the GP said this is a side effect of the painkillers they gave me from the hospital and as soon as I switched to ibroprofen the pains went away. I was on painkillers up till about 6 days after the op then stopped completely.

I bled all in all for about 16 days, the last few days were like that irritating end to a period when you're just wearing panty liners and wondering if it'll ever stop completely. And sometimes you'd think it was over then you'd move about, go for a walk or something and then there'd be loads of blood all of a sudden.

One of the saddest things physically is watching the blood go down the toilet. I really felt like it was symbolic of all my hopes and dreams literally going down the toilet. Its also hard to see yourself heal. I know that sounds weird. I watched the bruise of my hand, where the drip had been, turn all sorts of colours before it eventually faded away. I felt the egg-like-bump on my leg where they injected me slowly deflate. Then lastly I went my first day without any blood.

It was like my body was saying, its all over now. And my heart was in total disagreement.

There were good hours and bad hours. I'd have an hour or two where someone would pop over with some flowers and we'd have a chat or watch a film and I was fine. Then I'd have an hour where I was back in the same place I was when they first told me the baby was dead. Proper heart breaking tears.

I was wondering if my heart would ever heal. Then I'd feel guilty for wanting it to heal.

My first trip out of the house (apart from that awful attempt at working) was a quick christmas shop 10 minutes away. I thought the walk and fresh air would be good as I was starting to feel a bit better emotionally. But the world seemed way to fast. The fact everyone was rushing around getting their christmas presents just made me want to escape. I kept finding myself in the quiet shops and the back streets, in places I'd not usually have shopped. The world was too much for me. I would also find myself, and this continues now, in the middle of a shop wondering what I was doing, what is it I came in for. In some sort of daze. Everything was too much.

I got on a bus and cried all the way back home. I felt so lonely. Living in London I'd gotten used to protecting my baby from the chaos. I'd hold my bag over my belly when I was in a busy room or going through the barriers of the tube in case they flung back at me. I watched my step everywhere I went. Its particularly slippery outside my house so I'd got used to reminding myself to be careful there. It seemed everything about the outside was a reminder that I was no longer pregnant. You get used to having that other person around, inside you growing. I'd talk to it sometimes, I'd be protective of it. Basically I was becoming a Mum. Already making sacrifices, not drinking, not eating prawns, eating more fruit, all the usual things. I was already totally in love with my baby and always felt it about, whether it was from feeling tired, or the sore boobs. I knew it was with me.

Now it felt like I was so alone. So empty.