Hello lovely readers.
Apologies for the silence; it's been a tough week that started last Sunday.
As many of the regular readers know, apart from the weight loss journey, I've been desperate (very desperate) to have a baby (well, create a family). In fact, my LighterLife plan had one specific goal in mind - to help me get pregnant. At 40, which was my age when I started the VLCD rollercoaster ride, I was in fertility's last chance saloon.
I've been trying to conceive for half a decade and had various physical 'challenges' that weren't helping the situation; conditions like endometriosis (which I have) don't help fertility but there isn't much I can do about them. But my weight was something that I could address, finally, once and for all. If I stood any chance at all of getting pregnant, the excess pounds had to go.
And how ironic, in this weight loss maze, that my cycle stopped altogether. With no cycle, there could be no children! But, it came back eventually, and the whole fertility nightmare started again. I know some of you understand exactly what I mean. I have never been pregnant so there were no guarantees it would happen anyway - weight loss or no weight loss but I felt I had to try.
Fast forward to this year, with some extra weight back on my bones (after getting down to a BMI of 22.5!), and guess what? I got pregnant. I really can't believe that it happened and that I am writing this but it did. I found out on Easter Sunday and any Catholics reading this will understand the significance of that. I can't tell you how indescribably happy I was. I knew nothing was certain but the fact that the pregnancy tests showed positive were beyond my wildest dreams. The realisation that I was, indeed, up the duff came after my breakthroughs and my decision to take good care of myself. The GP I saw, a lovely Irish doctor, told me it was obviously meant to be. As it was very early days, I couldn't say on here what was going on. I wanted to get to the magical three month mark. And I was in a very happy bubble for two weeks, which you all picked up on from the blog. I really did feel that life was finally going my way and a miracle had happened. For the first time in a very long time, I felt hopeful. Really hopeful and excited.
I did everything by the book; stopped drinking, avoided certain foods, took loads of rest (at least I understood the tiredness!) and just ...well, stopped worrying about everything else because there was nothing I could do beyond get up, go to work and then come home and go to bed. I had so little energy but the fact that I was really pregnant kept me going.
We told very few people; just my mum, my best friend Porkchop and my LighterLife Counsellor. Porkchop sent me a book about beauty in pregnancy that she has been keeping for several years and it literally has been the length and breadth of the UK as she and her family have moved around. At the moment, most of her belongings are in storage as they have building work done but somehow, that book stayed out of the packing boxes. She wrote that she had been waiting for years to send it to me. I must admit that I did shed a tear when I opened it. She had never stopped hoping for me.
Anyway, on Sunday, things started to go wrong and I ended up in hospital. I spent all Sunday there and the tests were inconclusive. The medics said things hung in the balance. I went back on Monday for a scan and the sonographer told us it was good news; we needed to pay no attention to the blood tests. Everything looked fine and we were advised to come back in 10 days' time. I spent the rest of the day feeling shell-shocked and stayed at home.
I went to work on Tuesday and started to feel unwell. I rang my GP, who was doom and gloom, which didn't help, and she told me to leave work, go straight home and rest. On Tuesday evening things got worse and on Wednesday I was advised to go back to hospital. I would have gone alone (my husband was away) but a friend came with me (she travelled from the other side of London) and met me there. All I can say is that the experience was horrendous; the A&E staff were fabulous but the Obs and Gynae docs were appalling.
I had another scan and was told I had miscarried but in a very matter of fact way. My friend and I sat together and cried. I was in shock. I then had to go back to A&E where they said the results showed no change. And no, I hadn't miscarried and I should never have been told that by the person doing the scan! I wish I could describe to you how surreal (yet utterly stressful) the situation was; my friend was sitting there in disbelief.
Anyway, I was eventually told to go home and wait to see what happened. So I did; things got worse and when I went back today (for the fourth time in six days) for some more blood tests, the results eventually told us what I knew. This pregnancy was no longer viable, as they say in the trade.
It really hasn't hit me yet; while I was 6-7 weeks pregnant, I only knew about it in the last two weeks and even though you know nothing is guaranteed, you can't help but hope and have happy thoughts about the future. But it was just not meant to be.
When I got my results this afternoon, I also found out one of my closest friends had just given birth. I got a text telling me. She had no idea I was pregnant. It was a bittersweet moment, and I did weep, if I am honest but now I am just utterly thrilled for her.
I have to be optimistic but, right now, I feel pretty numb while the hormones are taking me all over the place. Sometimes I feel OK, sometimes I feel pretty bl**dy crap. I know it will pass but I just wish this was all over fast. I have to say it's not been the best of weeks.
So, lovely readers, I wish you all a lovely weekend.
A very sad Mrs L xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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