A good friend dies

2008 was to end badly, with a very good friend dying. She was 31, married with a baby, and shortly before her return from maternity leave had been diagnosed with something called Inflammatory Breast Cancer. It’s not a typical breast cancer as it comes up as a rash rather than a lump. They gave her chemo, then a mastectomy followed by radiotherapy, but it wasn’t enough. She died a few days before Christmas, only 9/10 months from the initial onset of her symptoms. Her daughter was 20 months. I was blindsided. I knew it was an aggressive cancer, but it was my first experience of what ‘aggressive’ in relation to cancer meant. I don’t think I imagined for a moment that she wouldn’t live. I was so sad for her, her husband and her daughter. I remember that the latest iPhone had just been released. This was the height of technology, so how could my friend die leaving a child? It seemed so Dickensian.  So I went into 2009 on a massive downer.

Miscarriage

We’d only been trying a few months and I wasn’t expecting anything to happen to be honest. I had just had my 31st, therefore, according to the Law of the Daily Mail, my fertility has nose-dived, a just punishment for a Woman Who Works.

More to the point, it was after Christmas and I thought I should lose a few pounds. So I dug out books on Atkins-type diets and set about curbing my liking for carbs. Within a very short space of time, I began to see what I thought were the results. ``This is brilliant,'' I thought, ``I’m losing a bit of weight, but get this, my bum may be getting smaller but my boobs are getting bigger!! How wonderful! I must tell all my girlfriends what a miraculous diet this is!!!''

But they really were getting bigger. Hmm. I told my husband of this development over the next few days, and being more of an expert in this area than even me, he evaluated the evidence and said he agreed. One night he asked, `Are you sure you’re not pregnant?’ ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ I replied, `What a preposterous idea’. Impossible. But the next morning, I couldn’t get the idea out of my head. When was my last period? I have very irregular periods, so an absence of 6 weeks or so would never be enough to get me worried, but thinking about it, it had been quite a while... I headed for work, but decided to take a quick diversion to Boots to buy a pregnancy test.  I got to my office, said ‘hi’ and dived into the ladies. A few minutes later, and I am looking a positive result. Dear Lord. I certainly wasn’t expecting this. We are with child!! I float back to my desk in a daze. I become amazingly productive and race through tasks like a demon. I tell my husband in the evening. We are both shocked but delighted!!

Our plans are on fast-forward about how our lives will change. We have looked up the due date date and made a mental note of when our sleep-deprivation will start. We begin to wonder about bedroom colours, what type of buggy we might need, car seats, maternity wear. I'm even looking at what nurseries and primary schools are in the area.

Physically, I am feeling fine – no morning sickness or any other signs apart from soreness in the bust `area'. I have already decided I want a c-section. Why on earth would any sane person chose the risk of incontinence or any of the other horrid things that can go wrong in childbirth? No Siree, none of that for me, thanks very much.

However, these naive sentiments are not to last long. Within a few days, while at work, I notice I am bleeding.  I return to my desk and suddenly realise something. My boobs no longer feel strange. They have gone back to normal. They no longer feel pregnant. It is as if a switch has been turned off. 

I ring my husband, then I ring a doctor. I am given an appointment within a few hours and we both make our excuses and leave work early. I am given a scan, and while there is a heartbeat, it is slower that it should be and is evidently slowing. We are told to expect me to miscarry. We are beside ourselves. We hadn’t seen this coming. I am frightened. What happens? Will there be a lot of blood? I can go to hospital and have an op to finish things up, but I'm not a fan of hospitals and prefer to miscarry naturally at home.

Yes, there is a great deal of blood. It soon becomes clear that the only practical place to be at a time like this is to strip off and sit in the bath, and so that is what I do. The miscarriage was painful and horrible. Our happiness, dreams and hopes had been dashed. But I tried to console myself that this is a very common experience, and I can’t be too down, after all, lots of people experience much worse.