With an estimated 1 in 4 pregnancies ending in miscarriage, why in this modern world of oversharing information on social platforms, is it still such a taboo subject? Perhaps it is superstition holding them back, but many women only open up about failed pregnancies once they have a healthy baby in their arms. The lack of open discussion about this topic means most women don’t realise how traumatic it is until it is happening to them. Conceiving a child is hard enough as it is, let alone experiencing the sense of failure commonly attached to miscarriage. For me I feared friends would it find too intimate or simply too depressing to discuss so I decided to write it down. 

Starting from the beginning of my fertility story, I realised how many questions need to be raised about hormonal health in today’s society. With so many contributing factors such stress, diet and medication, young women should be educated about their choices at an early age, not just on the consequences of the combined pill, the coil and now the natural cycles app but also on how being aware of your well being can optimise your chances of conceiving. 

Coming off contraception in October 2016, I had no idea of the wait I would endure for my menstrual cycle to return. Feeling the frustration of reaching the six month mark I forked out the fee for an appointment with a Consultant Gynaecologist. Several blood tests and a pelvic scan later I took comfort in the fact that my ovarian reserve was healthy. However, my progesterone levels were low, making the lining of my uterus thin and the prospect of a period unlikely. I took prescribed Provera (a form of progesterone that helps regulate periods), I tried acupuncture, I cut out cortisol inducing coffee, I drank a Chinese concoction of wretch-worthy tea and I continued to wait. I found myself wondering, had my progesterone always been low? Could a simple blood test have told me this years ago, and if so would my preparation for pregnancy be different? I was kicking myself for not having my implant removed sooner, surely a discussion my doctor should have had with me long before I hit my thirties.

In November 2017, I think I became one of the only women ever to celebrate the crippling cramps of period pain. I began the bank breaking task of tracking my ovulation, it turns out buying Clear Blue kits from Boots is not the way to do it when there are websites such as homehealth-uk.com that sell 30 test strips for under £5.

I finally fell pregnant in August 2018, missing my period and seeing the words PREGNANT 1-2 WEEKS was a total surprise after all the months that had passed. Feeling apprehensive I shared the news with my mum and closest girlfriend, a good idea if you need some female support in the early stages. I took things easy, turning down a work trip and resisting my 7mile running route in favour of a steady thirty minute stroll. I began to see the usual symptoms of pregnancy… tender, swollen breasts, tiredness and the sudden urge to empty my bladder every three hours (perhaps the body’s way of preparing you for the lack of sleep!). With the signs all there we allowed ourselves to speculate about the months ahead. We had conversations that most parents-to-be have, we need to save money but we need a new car, do you like the same Noah? No, I don’t, what about Arthur, vetoed! 

At seven weeks I began bleeding, having waited so im/patiently (depending on who you talk to) for nearly two years I felt angry for the first time. I had done everything I could to protect my precious cargo, I didn't deserve another obstacle to overcome.

I called the Early Pregnancy Unit at the hospital and they explained I was experiencing an early miscarriage. Although I knew this was a common occurrence I couldn't help cursing all those women who (seemingly) fall pregnant at the first sight of a sperm. I called my husband and cried, in hindsight I didn't give him a chance to cry, he was handling the same heartbreak as me and I hadn't asked if he was ok. The week that followed was tough, I tried to see the positive in the fact that I’d fallen pregnant, but the bleeding was a constant reminder of what could've been. Sitting at home, the biggest mistake I made was scrolling through Instagram, seeing friends with beautiful babies or growing bellies, confirmed for me the concern that social media is not healthy for the head or the heart. 

Apart from a blood test to confirm my hCG hormone level had dropped, my doctor offered very little support. With lots of unanswered questions… how long will the bleeding last? When can we start trying again? Is it safe to start exercising? I took to the internet, reading similar stories on mumsnet and deciphering the common myths of miscarriage. I couldn’t believe I was relying on Google to guide me through. I remember reading that the cervix remains open during a miscarriage, meaning the chance of infection is increased. Why didn't the doctor tell me that technically, you shouldn't use a tampon during this time? 

Sharing the news with our closest friends (something I had to do because as many women of a certain age know, you face the constant question of ‘are you thinking about babies?’ Of course I am!) I was surprised how many couples I know had been through the same disappointment but hadn't reached out for support. One such friend suggested I book in for a pelvic ultrasound to put my mind at rest. I visited The Birth Company on Harley Street, for the sake of £150 I was given reassurance that no foetal tissue remained in my uterus and we could continuing trying once my cycle returned. I learnt that the earlier you are in your pregnancy, the more likely your body will expel all the foetal tissue by itself and will not require further medical procedures, a fact I was thankful for.

Walking into a health-store to stock up on supplements, shatavari to balance hormones, omega 3 to help ovulation and folic acid to boost fertility, the woman behind the counter turned to me and said ‘what you really need is rest’. Maybe she could see it on my face but she was right, I was exhausted. Restoring a healthy mind after the heartbreak of miscarriage is perhaps the biggest challenge.

I know millions of women around the world suffer miscarriages, on multiple occasions and at much later stages of pregnancy, but I still wanted to share my story. I found comfort in the hundreds of fertility stories I have come across online and if one woman can open up about her feelings as a result of reading mine then it has been worth my while. And although I’m by no means an expert, I endeavour to talk about hormonal health as much as I possibly can. With most women suffering the side effects of imbalances at some stage in their lives, from acne to anxiety, we should be more open to discussion. Not only to offer compassion but also to eliminate the feeling of unknown I experienced. I will follow up this personal piece with a more factual feature on the balancing act of cortisol, progesterone and oestrogen… something that should be useful for all women, not just those focusing on fertility.