I really don’t want my blog to be telling the stories of someone else, but occasionally someone else’s story impacts on where am.
This is the story of my little sister, the same little sister that went on the trip of a lifetime to spend a month with her man. Without going into too much detail, she had a great time and by the time she arrived home, her period was late. Eventually, after much goading, she took a test and saw the two lines.
As you can imagine, they were both over the moon (as was everyone else who found out), they had both wished for this. They were planning how they would handle the relocation to be together as a family before the baby arrived. Then came the blood. Not a lot, but enough to be concerned. Her doctor sent her for an ultrasound. Having been in a similar situation, I tagged along for moral support. The whole time praying ‘please find a heartbeat’. It was really strange. The technician didn’t say much and I guess we were both too scared and overwhelmed to ask questions. He did say that everything looked normal, but didn’t say there’s the heartbeat. We left not really knowing anything.
The poor thing had to wait all weekend before going back to see her doctor. I snuck away from work to be with her. The results were in, her ovaries and uterus were perfectly normal, perfectly normal for someone who wasn’t pregnant! She walked out of his office with a look of shock and stumbled into the pathology rooms for a blood test to check if she had in fact been pregnant. What had been a celebration was now turning into a nightmare. My sister was re-living my nightmare, my secret. In shock, we went out for a coffee and a chat.
She was so brave. Just like me, I could see her looking at the practical sides of the situation. Perhaps the original test was wrong, perhaps she wasn’t pregnant at all. Besides, wouldn’t it be better to wait for her partner to arrive before starting a family? I felt terrible for her.
Despite the hour, her man called from London to see how she was. She was in shock and bluntly told him that there was no baby, but that they could talk about it later, when it wasn’t the middle of his night. Despite the time difference, I felt that they needed to talk, but not in a cafe that was starting to fill, not with me sitting there trying not to listen and trying not to cry.
We quickly finished our drinks and I drove her home, with her promising to call her man and to call me if she needed anything. As soon as I drove away, the tears fell and wouldn’t stop. I felt so selfish that I could do nothing to help her through the uncertainty, to help her kill time, to make it all go away.
The following day the results were in, she didn’t even have to go into the doctor’s office he called her. She had been pregnant and it spontaneously aborted. The embryo passed completely. There was no need for further intervention and no physical pain, just the debilitating pain of ‘what if’ and ‘if only’.
I felt so horrible. If I hadn’t been so eager to finally be an aunt, maybe she wouldn’t have done the test. Maybe she would have started bleeding and just assumed that her period was late. She wouldn’t now be grieving for the child that wouldn’t be. She wouldn’t be feeling ‘stupid’ for celebrating a pregnancy that wasn’t, for telling people her good news and now have to tell them the bad news. All this and she is alone. It doesn’t matter how many phone calls she receives from her man, how many bunches of roses, how many times they vow to try again when he visits later in the year to validate his visa, she is alone now and she is hurting. I want to tell her to be sad, be sad now before it engulfs her.
Take care my little sister, I love you. It won’t be long until you are together and can start your family.