Don\u2019t worry, pregnancy isn\u2019t an illness,\u201d said my midwife, smiling affectionately as I worried about my lack of morning sickness. She must have been well acquainted with the limbo of early pregnancy, the constant fluttering between hope and fear.<\/p>\n
Two days later, doubled over on the toilet and clutching a hot water bottle as I watched dark clots of blood drip into the pan, it felt very much like an illness. I knew something was desperately wrong.<\/p>\n
The largest lump of tissue \u2013 what I believe to be the yolk sac \u2013 was smaller than it felt in my heart. I searched for the embryo inside it until my clothes were stained with blood. I couldn\u2019t flush the toilet for an hour because I was sure that my baby was in there. Rationality had ceased to register through the distress.<\/p>\n
The list of things I don\u2019t understand about my miscarriage seems never-ending. I don\u2019t know how old the embryo was when it stopped living. I don\u2019t know\u00a0why<\/em>\u00a0it stopped living. I will never know.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy?\u201d I asked myself. Again and again and again, as if it was a mantra that would take me back in time and stop it happening.\u00a0Why?\u00a0<\/em>If someone could answer that, then at least I\u2019d be able to grapple with another looming question: Will it happen to me again?<\/p>\nReference:<\/h4>\n
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