I hate this time of year. I detest it with a passion and have done so since 1st April 2001.
A day that will stay in my mind forever. The day I lost Beannie for good.
Beannie was at 12 weeks gestation when my ex-husband and I went for a normal scan. Well – it should have been. We waited with the anticipation that every new parent-to-be feels who hasn’t discovered loss. We waited, ready to see our Beannie on that screen for the first time. To meet our son (or daughter) and say hello on a gloriously sunny Thursday morning.
Except we didn’t have that. There was nothing except what looked like a miniature nuclear explosion cloud – you know the sort – the little mushroom that shows of desolation and unbearable loss. And that is what we felt. emptiness and sorrow.
But then a glimmer of hope……the doctor said “maybe you have your dates wrong and it was too early to see a heartbeat yet. Go away and come back in a week for a second scan.” I know, now, that a heartbeat can be detected at 7 weeks so I feel aggrieved that I was given that hope.
We dutifully went home and waited and worried and waited until the very early hours of Sunday morning when I started bleeding. After a call to the GP we were sent back to the hospital where we were sent home as it “wasn’t a lot of blood”. That was April Fool’s day. What a crock that day was and has been ever since.
Monday morning saw us at our GPs who sent us back for a scan – only for us to be berated by the sonographer for coming back before the week was up. We were sent away again! No-one was interested in the internal turmoil we had been plunged into.
The next day saw me rushed up to A&E in agony with crippling stomach cramps. I remember being given a shot of something to take the pain away and then waiting for over 6 hours in a side room before being admitted. My best friend and my ex-husband distracting themselves by laughing at the ceiling tiles – you had to be there. I was in a world of despair.
The next day I was taken to surgery to have a D&C. They took my Beannie away from me and I was lost and angry. And empty.
Oh – and to top it off my employer at the time deducted a week’s wages off me as I was off ill through all this. Bloody manager hadn’t even had the decency or bravery to tell me – just gave me a pay slip. Not only had I lost physically but I felt I had to “pay for the privilege”. Suffice it to say I angrily claimed it back as compassionate leave.
I detest the unthinking, seemingly never-ending posts about “I’m pregnant – haha april fool”. They are insensitive, badly thought out and totally unfunny. Every time i see one I feel a stabbing pain inside and I want to scream at them and tell them how “crappy it is and how so many people have silently suffered and you are making them hurt even more and it’s not fair!” but I stay silent because I don’t want to come across as over sensitive or lacking in humour. Now I just un-friend them on Facebook and turn my back. I have enough hurt without you adding to it thank you.
I am sure Beannie was a boy and i hate this month for not giving me the opportunity to find out for definite.
I hate this month!