In a previous post I alluded to the fact that we were pregnant with our third child.

On Monday I went along to a scheduled dating ultrasound, nine weeks along. I had never been to one of these before, having simply waited for the 12 week scan. Having felt pretty fatigued and sick for the past 7 weeks, I assured Dave that he didn’t have to come as it was his peak busy time of year at school.

I could see pretty quickly from the technician’s face that something wasn’t right. She informed me that she could see a pregnancy sac but no baby. She would need to do an internal ultrasound. I went to get dressed in the navy hospital gown, trying very hard not to panic. There must be some mistake, I thought, she will surely find the baby soon.

I lay back down on the table but there was no good news to be shared. Apparently, I have a blighted ovum, so my body still (even now) thinks I’m pregnant. The lady kept asking if I was OK, and I kept numbly replying that I was. I managed to hold in my tears until I was hidden in the bathroom to change back into my clothes. Back in the waiting room I checked my messages with a tear stained face. Dave had left a few excited texts asking how it was going. I responded with the outcome and waited to see the doctor.

As soon as I was back in the car I called Dave but he hadn’t seen the message. When he found out the story he left school immediately to come home. We wept and sat there numbly. As the kids were at Pat’s house I decided that I would try and get my mind off the news by crossing some things off my to do list.

I kissed Dave goodbye and headed to the shops. It was pouring with rain. After dropping off some letters in the post box I got back in the car. The next thing I remember is wondering why two lines of cars were turning right in front of me. Too late I realised that I was running a red light. I swerved and braked but it was pointless. The impact came and I felt the tire blow. I skidded to a halt and shakily got out into the rain. The car I hit pulled up behind me. The inhabitants were pretty angry.

I apologised over and over and affirmed it was all my fault. I shared that I had just heard bad news and her demeanor changed. She told me to hop into the back seat so we could exchange details. The next little while was a blur of phone calls, talking to the police, standing in the rain and cursing to myself about my stupidity. The Senior Constable was very kind and didn’t even give me a lecture, despite the clear infringement.

Ironically, I’ve paid for comprehensive car insurance for the past ten years, but two months ago we changed it to third party to save some money. So now, we are stuck with a useless car wreck two weeks before we are set to move.

Last night Dave and I opened an expensive bottle of wine to commemorate the short life that has impacted us so much. We don’t know whether the baby lived for hours, weeks or minutes, but in our minds they had already become part of our future. Goodbye Frankie, we will remember you forever.

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  1. Frankie! What a sweet name for a fondly remembered child! Thanks for sharing your story here. I, unfortunately, know and share your pain of this type of loss. I was right there in the room with you and my heart broke right along with yours (though a few years late).

    1. Thanks Amber 🙂 It is so devastating that so many go through this type of loss, along with the feeling that it is something best not mentioned as well just impedes the whole healing process. So glad you got the chance to write about your experience, though I can imagine the tears would have been freely flowing the whole time 🙁 hugs xx

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