Those two little lines.

The beginning of a new chapter,a new pregnancy and another sibling to add to our beautiful family. The excitement, the rush, the joy and the extra love we have to give.
A new journey.

Or so I thought.

Christmas had passed a few days prior, I was gearing up for the new year. A new start. Our new baby.
The boys have asked us for a new baby for quite some time, and like them, we wanted another.
‘You want a fourth? Are you crazy?’
We have a lot of love to give, as much as

our three boys are constantly bouncing around, driving us up the wall, they’re what we live for. We wouldn’t change their energy for the world.
We decided not to tell them this time. They’re older and quite frankly, they’d be so excited and tell everyone. We like to keep the secret until the 3 month mark, as many do.
I was going along with my day when that dreaded feeling hit me. ‘Surely not? Not me, I’ve never had to worry about losing a baby’ I said to myself.
But. Low and behold, here I am. 1 in 4. I’m part of the 1 in 4 club. A club no one wants to join but you’re pulled into without being able to resist.
At first I didn’t believe it. Me? Ha! No! Not happening. This doesn’t happen to me. The one thing I can do is grow healthy babies.
Yes, yes it is. Here comes the pain. Just when I thought it was over. I guess seeing is believing, or that’s how it was for me anyway. It was real.
Sadness bowled me over as I lay on the sofa, curled into a ball in pure disbelief. The children come to hug mummy. ‘Why are you crying mum?’ Scrambling for an answer ‘oh I’ve just got a tummy ache’ as I hugged them closer. My three beautiful boys. My healthy boys. They’re here. Why aren’t you? 

Time went on, I think about you everyday. That girl feeling, I’m sure you were a girl.

Fast forward. I find myself just knowing. The signs are here. Nose like a bloodhound. Husband not being able to hide having that cheeky smoke as I can smell him from a mile away. Over an hour after he had had it.
Bump protruding. Bigger than I should be. Could it be,maybe multiples is on the agenda. 5 children? A house full. A home full. A heart full.

It’s 6am. I’m up with a feeling. I knew it. You’re in there!
I sneak into the bathroom to get the test. Sneaking off before the Husband sees me. Wanting to surprise him.

Tick tock…. tick tock….
Wait, yes!!! I knew it. Two lines. Positive. 100% you’re with us! Our valentines baby!

I planned everything already. Your EDD around the start of November. Finally a baby of mine being born in the same month as me.
Your beautiful olive pram. A dark green pram. Perfect! Waiting for your movements. Waiting to feel them, see them.
Your birth. You’d be my first gentle caesarean. You’d be birthing yourself. I can already imagine it. Laid on my chest as soon as you’re born, daddy giving you your first kiss. Feeding you my milk, looking down at you in pure adoration. Daddy whispering the prayer in your ear that he did with your big brothers. Beautiful. Your first outfit. What you’d have for your first meal. Maybe even tandem feeding as we all know that Marny won’t be giving up his mama milk any time soon. Little milk monster like him you’d be. I’d planned my maternity session, it would be with Natasha. If anyone was to make me feel like a goddess in pregnancy, it would be her. I planned the images I wanted. I planned yournewborn session, down to how you would be laying with your brothers. The wrap shots, the feeding shots, the posed shots laying upon my props like all the other babies.

Everyday I took photos of your bump.
I hid you under baggy jumpers as best I could. My gosh you were sticking out a lot for your week. Hiding you from Zishan and Diddles was tough. They so want you. They ask me daily for you.
My little eager one.
Telling Daddy how big you were, what next week holds for you as your growth. ‘Hey Malik, check how big I am today!’ I’d say.

Yesterday I took my first bump photo with my face in it. Smiled at the camera with thoughts of holding you for the first time. Would you look like your brothers? Or have your own little features? Maybe a mix?

Then. Here I was. Googling implantation bleeding as my heart beat hard, sweating from my forehead as I hoped it was just that. I’d never experienced it before but hey, every baby is different they say. It’s true, they are.
With no clear answer. I spoke to a midwife friend and she advised me to rest. She would be there if I needed her.
The night passed. Here I am, waking early when I should be having a lay in. I was too eager to know. Are you here? Do we have you? begging the universe to please let us have our little rainbow

Sadness. You’re not here. You’re gone. You’ve been taken from me just like our angel before you. Wait, this isn’t fair.
What did I do? What didn’t I do? What could I have done? Can I stop this? What if this happened again? Can I handle it? Should I have started my folic acid sooner? Why is this happening again?
I’m sat here wondering. Over and over. Tears streaming from my eyes. My boys asking what’s wrong. Hugging them so tight.

So many questions. Again, I have a feeling you were a girl. A strong feeling. A mother knows.

2 losses. 2018. You’ve been cruel to me so far. You’ve broken me. This is temporary, I’ll rebuild. But those parts of my heart that are gone, I’ll never fill.

I miss you before I met you. My hand on my tummy as I lay excited every day waiting to meet you. Would you have the same big hair as Z? Softer like Diddles? Crazy fluff like Marny?

In a state of numbness. My mind wants me to keep busy, so off I go to get the boys from school. ‘We expected dad to get us as you were crying today, mum?’
Daddy wanted to, but I had to get them. I needed to squeeze them.

Please. When you read this, please don’t tell me ‘you have three children, some aren’t lucky enough to have one’. My heart is broken. My head hurts. I am lucky to have my three boys. But we have now lost two children. Those were our babies. They were taken from us and we want them so badly. We will never know their little voices, the way they like to wear their hair, watch them play with their older brothers.

This comes from my broken heart.

Misscarriage, a loss so sad. Something that people don’t talk about. I understand that. But I am not one to stay quiet. I’m hurting. I’m really hurting. The emotional pain is far worse than the physical. As I lay in the bath with healing hot water around me, I cannot get our loss from my mind. It’s been 10 hours. 10 hours of tears, wondering, sadness, hugs with my husband and dreaming of what could and should have been.
My girls, I know you were my girls. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more. I tried. I promise.
I miss you. I love you.

Mummy.