Sad News

I’m sad to report that our long-hoped for pregnancy has miscarried.

Mrs had suffered bleeding for about a week, but encouraged herself with books that said this can happen in successful pregnancies, together with the fact that she still had strong morning sickness. But when she went for her routine visit to the midwife on Wednesday, she was sent for an emergency scan at the first available appointment last Thursday morning.

On Wednesday evening the bleeding got worse, but then stopped and we thought it was just a scare.

At the appointment, the screen showed the shape of the baby clearly. Mrs was straining her neck to see the screen, and the nurse was telling her to lie down and relax, but she was saying “Is there a heartbeat? Is there heartbeat?” I couldn’t see one, but bluffed that I wasn’t sure where to look. Then the nurse said “I’m really sorry, but there’s no heartbeat”, and it was all over. Tears. Tears.

Measurements showed that the baby had stopped growing at 11 weeks and 3 days – roughly the time the bleeding started, though Mrs was now technically 14 weeks. It was uncomfortable to think she had been carrying a dead baby that long.

I took the rest of the day off work.

We went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch – which was very nice.

I fetched the youngest kids at the end of school, and told them in the playground. I told two or three mothers, and asked them to pass the news around to save us having to go through the story over and over, and to tell people to give us space until we were ready to face the world.

We told the other children as they came in later. The ones we thought would be most upset seemed blasé. Only the 16 year old boy seemed to show any real understanding and compassion. (The next day the 6 year old said “Why did the baby have to die?” so he is probably upset too. For the others I think its just becoming routine for Mum to have miscarriages)

Mrs retired to her bedroom, unable to cope with children running around the house with the usual noise and fights, oblivious to her feelings.

During the night it all came out in a rush, so at least she was spared from carrying it any longer.

On Friday I came out with a flu, and failed to get my morning jobs done in time and took the morning off work. This gave time for a good chat with Mrs.

We decided to call the baby “Noah” – which means ‘rest’ – which is a name our girls had asked for some time earlier. But I choked up when Mrs suggested it. I often listen to a song by Michael W Smith called “Hello, Goodbye” (For lyrics go here andscroll down to the 10th song) – which tells the story of his own son called “Noah”, that died at the age of 12 days. I always found it deeply emotional, but I will always cry when I hear that song now!

Won Saturday, Mrs was on bed all day. I wanted to get all my normal stuff done and also do all her chores, but being full of flu did neither. And needing to take the children out to help them buying presents for Mrs’ upcoming birthday meant I was even more behind. And since the weekend storm blew several panels out of our fence and I had to buy and erect replacements so the neighbour could let her dog out, meant I was even more behind.

Skived church on Sunday. Mrs still in bed. I couldn’t face the public, and still full of flu, still behind on chores. Mostly caught up during the afternoon.

Today I’m back at work, feeling much healthier.

Mrs is back in bed, and frankly pissed off, and declined my goodbye kiss. I think she is disappointed that I didn’t do more over the weekend, and is understandably not in any mood to be tolerant. I think her greater anger is towards God, but that is for another post.