Content warning: this piece contains graphic descriptions of miscarriage
My miscarriage began with a torrent of liquid – clots? I don’t know what exactly – spilling from my body. My stomach lurched then tightened. Terrified, I knew exactly what was happening. I was losing my baby.
Simply put, miscarriage is horrendous. The physical repercussions can last for months, the psychological ones years, and it has now been acknowledged that miscarriage can lead to long-term post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
During our scheduled 12-week scan, my husband and I were flatly told ‘there’s no heartbeat’ before being ushered, shell-shocked, into a side room. To the doctors, what lay in my redundantly bloated belly was just another ‘blighted ovum’ that needed removing. To us it was our second child, the final piece of our little family jigsaw.
I was booked in for an ‘evacuation of retained product of conception’ – basically hoovering the dead foetus out of my body. I dreaded the final separation but nature wouldn’t even allow me that indignity: the morning of the operation I woke with cramps and I was soon bleeding. I bled profusely for six more weeks until I finally underwent the evacuation procedure anyway.
For months afterwards I would sit alone and cry as I re-played memories in my head. I couldn’t look at pictures of babies without trembling. I cut off contact with two pregnant friends.
I convinced myself I might, somehow, still be pregnant – then I wept at my stupidity. I blamed myself, I blamed the world.
More than one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage and as well as the abdominal cramps, infections, and potential anaemia, anxiety and depression are common side effects.
Research has now revealed that 29 per cent of women questioned showed symptoms of post-traumatic stress one month after baby loss but despite women displaying very clear indicators, it has never been acknowledged before.
Not to be confused with grief, PTSD can leave women suffering panic attacks at the mere sight of a baby or in floods of tears at the mention of miscarriage.
I began to look forward, desperate to conceive again. Yet every time my period came it was a knife through the heart, proof that again my womb was empty.
I didn’t realise it at the time but the second I saw the spot of blood, I was right back there. Period cramps mirrored the pain of the miscarriage and I felt like it was all happening over again.
My mind shut down; I became moody, tearful, I hated my body and I hated myself.
After three months of trying I became pregnant. We had a day of blue line joy – then I was back in hospital for an ultrasound that revealed I was carrying twins but only one had a heartbeat. It was happening again. I was bleeding and distraught, desperately fearful that the baby whose heart still beat inside me would soon be lost too.
Somehow, against all odds, the strong little creature inside me clung on and the day my daughter was born was one of the happiest days of my life. She was, and still is, our rainbow at the end of the most horrible storm.
My stress and anxiety diminished rapidly but there are still triggers, and the memory of the baby I lost – and how I lost it – is still with me. The pain, devastation, and sense of loneliness and confusion that result from miscarriage are all emotions that hit so hard, they can never fully disappear.
PTSD is a very real after-effect and we need to change the way we talk about baby loss if we are to avoid traumatising women further.
It has to begin with medical language: no more blighted ovums or evacuations – we need to talk about lost children and miscarriage management.
Dismissive comments such as ‘you should be grateful it happened now’ or ‘at least it wasn’t a real baby yet’ are just as damaging at a time when people are grieving.
It’s a sad inevitability that friends and family will begin to move on but miscarriage sufferers cannot. If experts understand that post-miscarriage PTSD is real and are looking into ways to treat it, hopefully we will stop expecting women and their partners to just ‘bounce back’.
Before my experience I didn’t know anyone who had suffered a miscarriage, but after I talked about mine everyone around me started sharing their stories. Friends, relatives, colleagues – so many women I see every day had had scarily similar experiences. But without talking about it the next person to suffer will still feel desperately alone.
It is our duty to keep talking about it, to acknowledge the repercussions, understand and put the right support in place.
We owe it to each other to help miscarriage suffers recover from what can be one of the most traumatic experiences of their lives.
More support
The Miscarriage Association offer information and support to anyone affected by miscarriage, ectopic or molar pregnancy. They can be contacted on 01924 200799 or info@miscarriageassociation.org.uk
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source https://metro.co.uk/2020/01/16/just-getting-period-triggered-miscarriage-ptsd-12067653/
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