Ever since having and loosing Rhianna Lily I have been adamant that no one forgets her name, no one stops talking about her and everyone includes her in our lives.
In our family.
In the greater families.
We are a family with Rhianna Lily missing, a family of five not four but five.
But that isn’t really true.
You see we are a family of six.
I have never been able to talk about it a lot before, only a handful of people knew, and to admit that we did it again, said goodbye for a second time, was just too much to admit too. Too much pain.
Too much suffering.
And it was something I couldn’t do.
You see recently I have been feeling like I am letting them down, not admitting to them, not talking about them, focusing on only loosing Rhianna. But that isn’t true.
I didn’t only loose Rhianna, we didn’t only loose Rhianna we lost two babies.
One was Rhianna, our precious little girl.
The other we don’t know, we never found out they were taken to early, to quickly, life was a complete and utter bitch to us in 2012.
We were lucky only five months after loosing Rhianna we found out we were expecting again, it was all systems go, we were worried but we were happy. We had appointments after appointments and it was decided that I would start taking aspirin at 12 weeks to help my placenta, stop it from failing again.
We had our 12 week scan and this bouncy little baby was bopping around on the screen, happy, healthy and heart beating.
At 13 weeks and 4 days I went to see the midwife, she was so happy to see me again, she has been my midwife for all our babies and was heart-broken when Rhianna died. She couldn’t find the heartbeat with Rhianna I remember the hug she gave me, the one where she held me so tight, she was so happy that we were there again, and the 12 week scan was good and the baby was healthy.
She had a little check with the doppler, just on the off-chance, there was just silence.
I remember being in the same room that no one could find Rhianna’s heartbeat. There was silence.
The anguished face and me biting my lip.
Holding back the tears.
She told me that it would probably be ok. That she had checked really early, and she would book me in to the hospital just on the safe side.
It was the words I repeated to Mr L, my mum and dad, his mum and dad, my sister.
“It would be ok, she was checking really early, we are just going to the hospital to be on the safe side”
I wanted to believe them, I wanted the people I told them too to believe them, I don’t think anyone believed them.
We went to the hospital, we got told the same thing.
The midwife was annoyed mine had tried to find the heartbeat. She told me it would be far too early and she was wrong to check so early.
They told us they would try with the doppler and if no heartbeat was found, they would send me for a scan as it was so early to find a heartbeat.
I laid on the bed, I felt the cool gel, and the doppler moved around and around, I looked at Mr L and all we heard was my tummy no heartbeat, no sure sign. I think we both knew then but we clung on for as long as we could.
We were moved from department to department, waiting for a scan.
Waiting for what seemed like hours.
We finally were taken into the scan room. And the cool gel was put on my tummy once again, the scanner was placed on my tummy and they moved it around and around. I looked at Mr L, I stared at the ceiling.
The words “I’m sorry, there’s no heartbeat” came and I went numb. We lost another baby, we lost our second baby on Mr L’s best friends funeral, something that he later missed that he couldn’t cope with. There was too much pain. Too much death and too much sorrow all in one day. The world was a cruel heartless place on this day.
All I could think was, am I going to have to give birth to another dead baby. My biggest fear was coming down hard and fast. I had to know if that was the procedure that I had to go through again.
We walked out of the scan room, me with a tissue to my eyes, silent tears, there was no hysterical crying just a silent grief that maybe just maybe I wasn’t ever going to be a mum again.
Mr L stood by me, hand in hand the whole time, walking in silence through the hospital corridors, with so many things happening around us, and not noticing anything around us. Walking in silence, in slow motion to the early baby unit, to discuss the next procedure for our Silent Miscarriage.
Our second Silent Miscarriage.
No pain, no blood
Another blow to my already failing body
The fact that it didn’t even give me a sign that it was failing it just did it silently, on its own with no warning, no preparing. Just gone, taken away from me.
I sat in the room with the midwife, watching her clock on her uniform, the minutes ticking by when Mr L asked the big question did I have to give birth, I didn’t hear much of that conversation but I did hear that if I had gone another week then yes I would have but at 13 weeks and 5 days I could go for the natural option or have a D and C.
We had the D and C.
I booked myself in the next day and let them take the baby, our baby, our rainbow surgically out of me. I wanted it gone, it sounds awful now, but I couldn’t do with the torture, I couldn’t have a dead baby inside me not like Rhianna it had to be gone.
I was a complete cow, I made Mr L go to work told him I would be fine, made my dad take me and let my mum sit next to me while I read my kindle, I escaped into myself and let my sister collect me after the operation.
I sat in the waiting room talking to the nurse about what Baba had for Christmas how the preparations were going, she was an excellent pro at distracting you. I didn’t cry.
I was numb.
I was avoiding every single emotion I could.
And I remained numb.
For a long time.
I spoke to the friends that knew, I got support from Saying Goodbye but I still remained numb in myself.
I never wanted to be the family that lost a baby, we became that when we lost Rhianna.
I refused to be the family that lost more than one baby.
I didn’t tell people I threw myself into work, and made sure no one forgot Rhianna’s name.
But it was never just about Rhianna, I don’t want anyone to forget Rhianna or our little star in the sky.
I don’t know if it was a girl or a boy, but it was us a part of me and a part of Mr L, it was a baby sibling for Baba and an older sibling for Boo. And they should know and they will know. I don’t know when but they will know. We couldn’t tell Baba at the time I couldn’t tell anyone who didn’t already know we were pregnant at the time.
Mr L has been a lot better over the last couple of years, he tells people openly that we had Baba, we lost Rhianna and another baby and then had Boo. I have always struggled.
This weekend I found it easier, in a room full of people, some I didn’t know, some I had only just met I found it easier to say we have Baba, we had Rhianna, lost another baby and had Boo.
That is what should be said.
I should never have not spoken about the baby and I am sorry to them.
They are our baby too, and they will always be our baby too.
I am not sure why I need to talk about it now, I am not over it I don’t think I ever will be, I am not healed, but I am no longer numb. I can feel for the baby now, I can accept we are that family.
The family that has lost not one but has lost two babies.