This is me. Making sense of bad luck.

The 8th July. It always seems to be the 8th of something. In 2019 it was the 8th June. This year it was Wednesday 8th July.

I didn’t have my usual PMT, and it was four weeks exactly since my last period. I did a pregnancy test when I woke up, the one that shows two lines if you are pregnant. The second line was faint, but Ben agreed it was there. I didn’t know what to think. I was numb. I needed to make sure, so I used a Clearblue digital test. It said I was 1-2 weeks pregnant.

I didn’t feel happiness. I don't know what it was. Ben smiled. I asked him what he felt. He said he did feel happy, whereas I felt hopeful, but not happy.

We didn’t tell anyone outside the family at first. When the word congratulations were used, it sounded so strange to me. Last year it sounded perfect.

I had counselling that afternoon and tried to uncover what I felt. Just fear.

My counsellor put it like this: The pain of losing this baby will be 100%. It will be 100% if you deny yourself any hope or joy, and also 100% if you allow it. She told me to take it day by day. She said you don't know what the outcome will be; it can't be guaranteed. But you could say “today I am pregnant”.

Today I am pregnant. I liked that.

Later that afternoon, I found myself feeling guilty. I was missing Yaeli like mad and feeling as though somehow being pregnant was pushing me further away from her. I didn’t want to betray her; to leave her behind. But I also didn’t want this baby to live in her shadow somehow. Wanting Yaeli in my arms again. So many mixed and difficult emotions.

Ben’s amazingly caring and wonderful grandma died on Monday 6th July. We attended her funeral on Friday 10th July. After trying to deal with this incredibly sad news and finding out I was pregnant in the same week, we decided it was time to take a break. Reflect. Try to heal again. Have some fun.

My most amazing best friends clubbed together with some money when Yaeli died, to help us heal and make new memories in this way. Via whatsapp I showed them the cottage in the Lake District we were going to stay in – they saw the hot tub and sent me a message telling us to enjoy it. I didn’t message back to tell the truth – that I couldn’t use it. And I was actually a bit gutted about that!!! I continued to feel completely scared of miscarriage, but I tried to relax. I remember thinking I won’t tempt fate by packing any sanitary towels.

We drove to the Lakes on Monday 13th. We went up a mountain next to Buttermere Lake on Tuesday. On the way up I started freaking out that the altitude might be bad in pregnancy. It was 500 metres above sea level. Ben calmly said he thought that it only mattered if it was about 8000 metres up – he was right. I was scared of the affect that climbing and scrambling up rocks might have on the baby. The route instructions in no way made it clear that we were effectively mountain climbing. It said it was a three out of five difficulty level. God knows what five is like! It was pretty crazy, but I didn’t fall and I am fit. And when we got to the top of the mountain it pissed it down with rain and was so foggy we couldn’t see a bloody thing! How we laughed (only later when we got down again!!!)

On the morning of Wednesday 15th July I started spotting. I didn’t think too much of it as it was really light bleeding. I thought I had a little of that with Yaeli and it could still be implantation bleeding.

We went to Derwent Water near Keswick for a short-ish walk by the lake, laughing at a dog who was obsessed with a stick. On our return I had a counselling session. I cried – a lot. I told the counsellor about being scared on the mountain and the spotting. Afterwards I had a little sleep and then we went for a short walk on the beach, which is only a few miles from where were staying. It was beautiful.

That night as I was about to go to bed, the bleeding got worse, although it was not as heavy as a period. I couldn’t sleep because I was worrying so much. Ben and I both only slept for about three to four hours. I woke around 7am – I was still bleeding.

Because we were in the Lake District, I had no idea where to go for help, so I phoned NHS direct 111. After answering their questions, they told me to go to A&E which was over 40 minutes away. I was bleeding heavily in the car, like a period now. I only had one sanitary towel. I’d found it in the pocket of my handbag. I was very uncomfortable. When we arrived there it was scarily empty; there was only us and one other man. Like no A&E you’ve ever seen before. If it hadn’t been for Covid-19, I’m sure we would have had to wait for hours!

I was seen within 10 minutes, explained the situation and had my blood pressure taken. I was told that Ben couldn’t come in with me at first, so I had a complete and utter meltdown. I know Covid-19 is around and it’s serious (and I am quite cautious about it) but it takes two to make a baby. I had to explain what had happened to Yaeli and therefore why I was in such a state. I couldn’t face being told that my baby was gone without Ben. And so they let him in.

And consequently I say to anyone who is currently pregnant and whose hospital is not yet letting partners in – just have a total meltdown – it’s emotional blackmail, yes, but perhaps it might just work. I know some of my mummy friends who are now pregnant are still not being allowed to have their partners with them for appointments. This is just so wrong now when shops are open and people can visit each others households - but it’s a postcode lottery at hospitals in terms of what is allowed.

After having my blood pressure checked, we had to sit in a room for twenty minutes whilst waiting for the gynaecology department to be ready to see us. And then off we walked over to the Women’s outpatient’s department where I had an internal scan and ultrasound. Of course at five weeks into the pregnancy, it’s too early to see anything except the uterus, which the consultant said ‘looked like it was preparing for pregnancy’. He excellently explained the situation in detail to us and informed us that to determine if I was having a miscarriage, he would need to gauge my HCG hormone levels. It is usual to take one sample and test again 48 hours later. If the hormone levels are the same or fall after 48 hours, it shows miscarriage. I had a blood test and was told I would need to return again on Saturday.

Even at four weeks pregnant, my stomach had started returning to its previous pregnant shape – I guess because it had only been five months since I gave birth. However, by Thursday or Friday morning, my stomach had shrunk. I continued to bleed, like a period. I had stomach cramps and took pain killers. But in all honesty it wasn’t really worse than a normal period. I just knew the foetus was now angel dust.

On Friday morning, I spoke to the Women’s outpatients department and they said the level of HCG in my blood on Thursday had been 15Miu/mL. At five weeks pregnant a usual rate would be between 18 and 7,340Miu/Ml. If you are not pregnant it is zero (by 12 weeks it’s usually up to 288,000Miu/ML). I was told that as the HCG level was so low, I should just take a home pregnancy test in a few days, rather than returning. I used a Clearblue pregnancy test on Monday once we returned from the lakes, which confired a negative result.

After losing Yaeli, I can deal with an early miscarriage. In fact before this happened, I had already mentioned to Ben and my parents how ridiculous I must sound when I said 'I can deal with an early miscarriage. But not a late one; or another stillbirth'.

All I can say is thank goodness it happened at five weeks. I have cried and wailed. But it was just one week of hope that was dashed.

At first I was sad I was miscarrying whilst on the break away, but after accepting it, we could enjoy the countryside – and the hot tub! Ben reminded me that had we been home, perhaps it would be a reason for me to find our house a difficult place to be again, like it was when we first lost Yaeli.

I know now, from experiencing even one week of a second pregnancy, that until 12 weeks I will always just ‘be pregnant today’. And until I bring that baby home there can be no congratulations. One could say ”that’s good news” or ”that’s hopeful news”. I also know that if I am pregnant again, even past the 12 week stage is going to be so extremely hard to enjoy. But I will try. Like my counsellor said, losing a baby at that stage is going to hurt 100%. It doesn’t matter if I choose to live in a state of sadness and panic or whether I choose to try to bond with the baby. The pain will be the same. And as I know that pregnancy memories can be all that you get, I will try to enjoy it. Easier said than done though.

During the last week I have been feeling quite battered, feeling unsure if I can keep doing this. I stayed in bed for a while on Monday after I took the test. But the next day I went for a 5km run and felt proud. I’ve had my first acupuncture session this week since after Yaeli died and I’m going to get my weight down again. I need to try to ‘level myself out’. Control my physical health so support my mental health. I don’t want to totally lose my sanity, jeopardise my mental health, my relationship and make my entire being about becoming a mother again. However, there will never be a good time. We have two options, try for a baby or don’t try for a baby. Both options will bring trauma.

With reference to the misccariage, my luck is just shit. I ask myself why so many people pop babies out easily and I don’t. And there is nothing wrong with me; apparently. I‘m lucky. I don’t have Antiphospholipid syndrome (APS) which can increase the chances of recurrent miscarriage.

This time I’m just one of the unlucky one in four. I can take it. It’s nothing when you’ve been to hell and back.

But when will I be that three in four? Why does it still feel like my body is failing me? Why do I feel like I’m failing my husband? Sometimes I want to smash things up.

You all know of course that I wear my heart on my sleeve and because I am on this alternative journey in motherhood, I want to help others if I can. I am being open. But I’m blogging at my own pace and when the time is right. I am so scared that when I am pregnant again and it ‘sticks’, people will see my belly and ask me if I am pregnant. I know I will just want to hide it as long as I can in order to prevent the ‘is this your first’ conversation and such like.

When discussing the new pregnancy on the 8th, my counsellor warned me that if I told people, I should be prepared for them to say something that will upset me: like “I knew it would be ok!” – assuming it will work out and reassuring themselves that I will now ‘be ok’, ‘move on’. But I know those of you reading this now understand that the grief for Yaeli will still come in waves. Though it will be easier. It will be always. I’m just moving forwards.

I think about the WHY – A LOT. I don’t believe in God anymore. Well, I say that, but maybe I do. But if there is something up there, I don’t know why we pray to ask for good things to happen. Unless I have done something really bad in my life, shit just happens. It happens to good people. Bad luck is indiscriminate. There is so much beauty in the world, amazing nature and scenery; good people, love. People say God made these things. Maybe he did. But if so, he also makes shit happen. Why would God do this? It can only be survival of the fittest.

Some people (like me occasionally) try to rationalise it by saying everything happens for a reason. Early deaths leave loved ones behind, who learn from the loss. Yes; we change. We might do things we never thought we would or even totally transform the direction of our lives. Yes, we can do great things as a result of loss. But really, is that the reason it happens? Maybe it’s because I am a not a good enough person. Years of guilt and the Jewish Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur) continue to make me feel that unless I’m good, shit will keep happening. But honestly? I really hope it’s more likely – in the words of Yaeli’s Uncle Sam – that it just ‘Is what it is.’

On top of all this, this week we have received the investigation report into my care both during my pregnnacy and in the hospital. There is admission of mistakes and failures with respect to my antenal care and during Yaeli's birth. It confirms that in weeks 36 and 38, I should have been sent for urgent growth scans. Sadly, whilst my midwife is a lovely human being, she made too many mistakes. The report admits that had growth scans been undertaken (and they would have seen Yaeli wasn't growing sufficiently) my care may have been altered. We believe we would have been offered an early induction / C-section. There was nothing wrong with Yaeli. Of course nothing is ever guaranteed, but we believe that had Yaeli been born earlier, she would almost certainly have lived. Ben and I were both smaller than Yaeli when we were born.

The hospital admit learning needs to be shared and policies updated but they claim the mistakes did not contribute to Yaeli's death. Yes, my midwife didn't cause it. But we believe she could have prevented it. We believe Yaeli's death was avoidable, to which they do not admit.

So now we find ourselves considering legal action. I want justice for Yaeli. And perhaps until more people go down the legal route, antental care in this country will not improve at the rate it should. I don't know what we will do, if anything. We understand it would be a long and difficult road....

As many of you may know already, Ben is going to run a marathon on 12th September in memory of Yaeli, and to raise funds for some wonderful causes that have helped us and/or continue to do so. If you haven’t already and are able to (even with a £2-£5 donation, whatever you can spare) please do sponsor him.

With love, Debs - Mummy to An Angel

https://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/BenjaminMeyer-Lewis