I've been tested!

l have finally had some recurrent miscarriage tests!

I have been tested for everything the Consultant could think of (relating to miscarriage) and both me and S are being tested for chromosomal problems. They are also getting samples from the placentas looked at again.

The consultant thinks possibly I have a tendency to have placental problems (as indicated by miscarriages, M's growth problems towards the end of his pregnancy and possibly Orson's pPROM). Possibly my bicornuate uterus is linked to pPROM (cervix problems) and growth problems but not the first trimester miscarriages.

I will have another appointment in a few weeks. I have been told to take folic acid and vitamins and if I get a positive pregnancy test to take low dose aspirin as it will do no harm and might help. I was given loads of printed research on miscarriage too which was nice.

I don't care care what the tests show right now I am just really pleased to finally have them.

Nobody can tell

One thing the past year has taught me is that in the case of fertility and pregnancy related problems you really cannot tell what a person has experienced just from looking at them.

Perhaps the 40 year old with no children just never wanted kids, maybe she never met the right man, maybe she has been pregnant and lost her baby or maybe she cannot get pregnant. In the last three cases the women probably acts like the first women. Unless you know her well you will probably not be able to categorise which category she fits into.

So what possesses those of us who have infertility / pregnancy related problems to act like the women who never wanted children (or in my case the women who only wants one child). I have been wondering a bit about this lately.

So more specifically why do I often act like Orson never existed?

Because I think:

- that is how I should behave.

- strangers would choose not want to know about Orson.

- friend's and family already know how I feel and don't really want to hear about it again, it might upset them or make them uncomfortable.

- it would upset me to talk about Orson.

- people think I shouldn't be so obsessed over a year on.

- it's easier.

So a week ago at a child's party when the grandmother of the birthday boy asked if we "had any more children at home" I said no which is of course the truth, but even if she had said "is M your only child?" I would have answered yes. And why? For all the reasons above.

Balloon

Finding my new normal recently wrote of her experience of buying a balloon to release in memory of her son on his first birthday. Her experience - an experience shared by several of the people who left comments on her blog - reminded me of my own. In a way it was comforting to know that I am not alone in the way I felt.

We bought Orson's balloon - a Peppa Pig balloon on the morning of his first birthday. M, S and me went to the shop together. I really struggled, I wanted to cry. It all seems so distant now but I remember it being very very hard. Too hard, in fact I couldn't decide which balloon to get. There isn't a perfect balloon. They are all too happy. S chose in the end. He told me he thought it would have been one that Orson would have liked. M loves Peppa Pig so probably Orson would have too.

Left behind

I am going to admit a feeling I am not too proud of. The feeling of being left behind.

A year and 2 months after losing Orson I sometimes feel like I am left behind. Women I have met online who lost babies around the same time as me have gone on to have new babies. And here I am with no new baby and I am not even currently pregnant. Will I ever catch up?

Even the celebrities who lost babies in the last year, such as Lily Allen and Amanda Holden are now pregnant. How do they do it so quickly?

I am afraid the left behind feeling is not a nice one. It is a feeling of jealousy, envy, self pity and sadness all mixed together. Yes I am happy for them. They deserve their rainbows. But I do feel like having a tantrum and screaming that "it's not fair" and "when will it be my turn."