Amanda Parker

I knew I was pregnant straight away, I've never been a glowing pregnant person. I get sick from day 1. Really sick. I look terrible all the time, exhausted. But I never cared, that was how my body coped, it took everything from me and gave to the baby. I was proud. The love of the smell coffee I once had had gone now it just made me sick. But it didn't matter. I was going to have a baby.

The day started normally and ended in A&E, it puts a whole new spin on not liking Mondays. There were no signs, no pains at the start (they came later) it was surreal, the world carried on spinning and no one had any explanations. I was now a statistic, and not even an accurate one. No one fully knows how many pregnancies end in miscarriage, not everyone ends up in A&E. There was no support after, it was a blur, and the reason written on my sick note, " gynaecological problems" I remember even having one lady tell me " at least I had summer to look forward to " ??????

There needs to be a better system in place for women who experience miscarriage, I was referred to a male mental health specialist when my depression hit what I thought was rock bottom. I'm sure there are many male specialists who are sympathetic or have some understanding, this one likened my thoughts to a bus. If I didn't want to think of buses I shouldn't, I should think of a different vehicle each time I thought of a bus. I ended up in private therapy after passing every test Suffolk well being had. I was depressed but not depressed enough, or just very good at masking. The darkness had taken over though and it took months to remove the mask again and admit how dark it had got. 

The phone call that confirmed my miscarriage lives freely in my brain. My pregnancy was no longer viable. But I had to continue going to the EPU for blood tests until my bloods returned to normal and to confirm there was no complications from the miscarriage. The EPU is in the maternity department, I was surrounded by pregnant people, women wandering around in early stages of labour, women coming for scans to check on their babies. I was no longer pregnant but still processed through the same department as those that were. I went 3 times a week until those bloods were normal again. But what is normal? No one could tell me why I wasn't normal enough to carry a baby to full term. Had I done something? Was it genetic? The most anyone could say was it wasn't meant to be. Now without losing that baby I wouldn't have my son. He is my whole world and makes me the proudest, happiest person. I will remain eternally grateful for him. But I spent those 9 months of pregnancy scared and by no means was it an easy process. Both he and I nearly lost our lives. 

And now I need to try and make a difference, research needs doing, education given, support systems put in place. Women need to stop being failed. Any donation can help all the other women who like me are a statistic. It can help future generations. I can help make a difference.