' Keep Calm and Carry On'
For the life of me, I couldn't stand that phrase, until recently I had an experience that helped me see comfort in the words. And comfort, comfort is what I need right now, its what we need, and our entire family. Comfort is what brings me to this next post, I want to share my story, let it all out so hopefully one day I can read it back with a small human snuggled on my lap, kiss him or her gently, and realise how far we have come.
Myself and Simon have been very unfortunate to have had our precious Christmas gift taken away from us, we discovered we'd lost our sweet bugaboo at 11 weeks pregnant, in a foreign country. On the 13th February our family was due to fly back home to England, we were all ready for it, missing our fur-babies we left behind, but we all didn't make it home that day. It came to my attention that morning that something just wasn't right, we'd been for a walk to go and get a nudey postcard for Simons nanna, and I felt like I was getting my visit from mother nature (expect TMI'S) but that was impossible, I was 11 weeks pregnant. We returned to our apartment where I discovered I'd had small amounts of discoloured discharge (yuk) I obviously freaked out and made my Mum come and see before she reassured me these things happen to a woman during pregnancy. We carried on with our day getting our things together and headed to the airport, got through customs and was all ready to board that plane to see our fur-babies. I popped to the loo because quite frankly I have the bladder of a small child (again TMI, they will continue). I was bleeding, and I was bleeding heavily. I cried my heart out and rushed about the loo just seeking a sanitary towel, no-one was english and no-one had them. I left the bathroom and hugged simon whilst crying my heart out, we all waddled downstairs to try and find a doctor, a boots pharmacist, anything we could. All in a blur a man contacted the on site drs and before we knew it I was in a wheelchair and then a bed being told I could not fly and an ambulance was on it's way. My heart broke in two. My Mum, Dad and Grandad all had to fly home, and we all knew it, so they did. Until the dr put pressure on my belly, I hadn't felt the slightest of pain, I was still getting pregnancy symptoms, but the bugaboo inside wasn't alright.
I have never cried so much in my life, we was in a foreign country being rushed in an ambulance to hospital, with no say in the matter, or no clue what was going on, what was happening inside hadn't set in yet. When we arrived at the hospital Simon was left outside of the emergency room whilst I was wheeled away and left in a toilet in a wheelchair to 'go pee pee', nobody came back for me. I wandered the corridor with my 'pee pee' in a pot crying hysterically, I shouldn't have been walking. The sweetest of ladies named 'Becky' came over to me and hugged me like my Mum would have done, she was such a comfort, she was english and lived in Teneriefe. Becky told me the ropes, that they don't like partners etc in the waiting rooms, or anywhere for that matter and all I needed was my Mimie there beside me. I wasn't in physical pain, he wasn't in physical pain, but something wasn't okay with our baby, he should have been allowed with me. I was quite the trouble causer in that ER, every 5 minutes I would get up crying and try to explain to spanish nurses that I NEEDED my partner beside me, what was happening was happening to both of us, not just me. FINALLY I think they got the picture, and Simon was allowed in. I was left again in another room on my own, where i'd had my bloods done and an internal examination and managed to rack up a 200 euro bill, tab kept open. I rejoined Simon and Becky in the waiting room, and a interpreter greeted me told us we were to stay in hospital overnight, we were devastated, but still no information was given to us, and none was until the following day. We then said our goodbyes to Becky and were moved to another waiting room where we met a group of amazing women who offered me kind words and love whilst Simon began a lengthly process with the insurance company. A lady stood out in particular, her name was 'Vicky', she gave me her seat and we began talking. She told me how her friend was a midwife and she tried to think what she would say about what was happening.
A couple of hours later we were taken to my room, initially we were impressed. Our hospital room had a balcony, a friggin balcony and there was noone in the bed next to me. I thought to myself, maybe this isn't going to be that bad. That quickly changed. I was hooked up to a drip and filled out my paperwork. Numerous people came in, and quickly left with arms in the air when we tried to find out if simon could stay with me. They sent in person after person with the slightest english skills before the interpreter came. They wanted Simon to leave after visiting hours and return to our hotel, what hotel? we'd checked out and were on our way home. After a lengthly battle and a conversation with our insurance company, it was decided that he could stay with me for just over 100 euros, added to our tab. At that point I began to relax, we were together, staying together and since noone was flocking around me with drugs, we gathered our baby too was alright. Remember Vicky from earlier with the midwife friend? she joined the party in the bed next to us and we had a good 'chin-wag' and vicky came back to with hugs and more kind words. And this is where I should introduce 'Jorge', he wasn't male nor female he was far too majestic, his skin was beautiful and his smile perfect, we came to conclusion that he was a mermaid. He said yes to everything with a nod, a smile and a quick glance at the patient. Vickys midwife friend Sue took quite a liking to Jorge, as did Simon. Unfortunately for us, Sue soon left the party and was discharged in time for happy hour. That was the longest night in history.
When we woke in the morning we was told I would see the Gynacologist and I couldn't eat for some time. I was wheeled to the Gyno with simon following closely behind, that was comforting. We got to the office and I liked the man, he could speak somewhat english and that too was comforting. Soon enough my panties were taken off and I was propped up in the stirrups about to have a internal scan. It was magical, and devastating all at the same time. I watched the screen above me with watery hopeful eyes, I could see two black circles, all I could think was oh my gosh twins?! I had no idea what I was supposed to see at 11 weeks, but I quickly realised that was not it. Again with hope I thought perhaps baby had separated from the sack or something, I really did not know what to think, nor am or was I a genius on the subject - but I was hopeful. There was a good handful of people around my foo-foo area by the time the bad news was delivered, there was no heartbeat and no baby. I cried and I cried. Im not sure what order the rest happened in, it was all quite a blur. At somepoint we was moved to a different room, where a german lady was already comfortable, and the battle of can simon cant simon stay commenced again. When I just wanted to sit down, read my magazine and take in the news a man came in with a trolley and told me I was going to surgery. I was in serious shock, noone told me this, I didnt know or understand why, and I did not find out until we got home. I cried some more, being wheeled on the trolley to theater.
The next bit feels the most recent to me, me being layed down in the trolley in a curtained off space, awaiting my turn in theater. My mind had lots of time to wander and wonder, and quite frankly I really needed to pee. I was then wheeled in a drowzy state into a large, bright white room with lots of reflective objects. And that was it I was out like a light. Until I woke up to something tightening up around my arm, my blood pressure being done, but I couldnt see anyone there, I put it down to being an automatic machine. I drifted in and out of sleep noticing new things, like strange oxygen tubes in my nose and beeping. I could not keep my eyes open, they were so squinty and continued to be like that for the rest of the day, I later discovered it was stress. I began to come around a bit more when a lady sat me up and asked if I recognised her, I did not, but she had been in theater the whole time with me and quickly allowed me to breathe on my own without the oxygen. I said thankyou to a familiar face on leaving the theater waiting area, and was wheeled back to simon. When I got back to the room, still on the trolley, I felt wet, I could only hope I hadn't 'gone pee pee' in theater, it was really uncomfortable. I scooted myself from theater trolley to my bed, and caught a glimpse of my nightgown, and sheets, absolutely drenched in blood, it terrified me. I was left with Simon and my german neighbour and a new drip, bleeding ridiculous amounts with eyes so squinty I couldn't see. I was sure I wouldn't be on my way home any time soon in that state.
That afternoon was spent with simon making phones back and forth between my doctors and our insurance company, racking up a phone bill we are yet to receive. My Dr willingly agreed to send over my medical history to the insurance company, before later refusing to, without contacting anyone. That fool was happy to leave us stranded in a foreign country, rather than send over my information. Without it the insurance company couldn't make a decision on wether or not to pay the final total of 2800 euros we had racked up. That night at 6:50 we were finally discharged, I didn't care for a shower or nothing, we just needed to get home. We had no change of clothing with us, fresh underwear or any toiletries, they were either at Tenerife's airport or in England, we didn't know. My fool of a dr was still yet to send over the documents, so we decided to risk having to pay the full bill ourselves just so we could leave, we would have done anything. Getting out of the hospital felt so good, we felt so free, although we we're in my happy place of Teneriefe, it didn't feel like it. It was also Simons birthday and Valentines day, but it didnt feel like them either. We jumped in a taxi, luggageless and headed to the airport in hopes of getting a flight home as soon as physically possible. We didn't care what airport, Liverpool, Manchester, Blackpool - we just wanted our feet firmly on our home soil. When we got to the airport we was very lucky to be in contact with a lady who had heard our story, she was expecting us, she had a lady book us flights free of charge with extra legroom for that evening, 35 minutes away. She rushed us to our cases which were infact in the airport in Teneriefe, they hadn't allowed my family to take them along with them. She even allowed us to go into our cases to grab fresh underwear, hair brushes and deodrant before she got us checked in. We flew through security, and laughed and chuckled in the airport just so glad to be on our way home.
The next day we found out I had had a D & C (dilation and curettage) which is basically where they dilate your cervix to 9cm, and scoop out remaining tissue from your uterus to avoid infection which they put me to sleep for. I did infact later get diagnosed with infection, and I am currently taking medication to clear it. We have a tough road ahead physically and emotionally, but we just have to carry on until things eventually get easier. Myself and Simon are stronger than ever as a couple, and we intend to expand our family as soon as we can and as soon as we are ready.
Sleep well Special Snowflake, for someone we had never met, we loved you so dearly, we will never forget you.
'I carried you for every second of your life, and I will love you for every second of mine'
