Last night I suffered a miscarriage that ended with me being rushed off to theatre to stop a very heavy bleeding. I had two units of blood during the night, and though I feel like if I have been punched all over and is very tired and rather weak, I’m physically mostly all right now, considering the circumstances. We are of course very sad that this happened, and I’ve had episodes of crying between periods of calm. I was so looking forward to this baby, and had just started to feel safe from miscarriage. I was in week 13+5.
At the same time I feel grateful. Grateful for modern medicine that made it possible for me to come home to my family again – a hundred years ago, or in some other parts of today’s world, I would have died.
Grateful for in-laws that jumped in the car to come to our aid the moment they heard what was going on, and stayed and helped with the children for a night and a day.
Grateful for the friend that showed up after just a few minutes to drive me to the hospital, when Tobias had to stay with the children until relieved by the babysitters, and stayed with me until I was rolled into theatre.
Grateful for the managers at Tobias’ work, that without hesitation gave him two days paid leave to care for me and the children.
Grateful for the friends that have dropped off flowers, dinners, chocolate, condolences, offers and promises of further help and other nice things.
Grateful for my husband, so supporting, loving, comforting and helpful, even in his own fog of tiredness and sadness.
Grateful that I have two beautiful children, to make me smile and feel happiness in spite of my grief.
Still, I hope that I never have to experience this again. Now, chocolate. Lots of it.