So it’s been 8 months since the wedding. The best day of our lives. I won’t lie, the come down post wedding was really hard. The honeymoon was so relaxing. So fabulous. It was exactly what we needed, but then reality sucks you right back in.
Suddenly one month after the wedding. I found myself staring at a positive pregnancy test and I felt somewhat dumbfounded. It wasn’t that we weren’t trying, it was more the shock that it actually really worked.
What surprised me the most was how much you have to pee. All the time. I literally couldn’t sleep longer than 2 hours before my bladder was pushing down.
Aches, anxiety. Strange emotions. Protective of something you can’t feel or see. Worried of everything you eat and trying to stay calm.
10 weeks in and not a sign of morning sickness. I was beginning to think I was a lucky one. That somehow I’d escaped the rough side of pregnancy. Two weeks until the scan I was feeling home and dry, getting excited to be nearing the second trimester.
Then during a date night with the bear, a trip to the bathroom resulted in tears as I saw spots of blood. I’m calmed that this can be natural. Can be just a breakthrough bleed. But then the cramps started.
Trips to the doctor and then emergency search for a private ultrasound scan as I just couldn’t wait for the NHS one. Only to reveal my little one was only 6-7 weeks not the 10-11 we thought.
A rip roaring cry emerged. A primal growl I didn’t even know I had emerged. This was not good. Somehow I had confirmed something that had been lingering in my mind. My lack of symptoms. Sometimes morning sickness can be reassuring!
Next stop A&E as the pain forced me to all fours. Pain coming in waves, cramps and contractions confirming that my body is preparing to say goodbye to my pregnancy.
Despite that it didn’t let go. And sadly it took an emergency surgery ERPC (Emergency Removal of Product of Conception) how glamorous a name to remove it.
Now, 5 months later we are still trying to conceive again. What seemed so simple before seems to elude us.
Coupled with the loss, I discover I’m BRCA2 positive. In layman terms I’m a genetic carrier of the breast and ovarian cancer gene. My risk far outweighs the general public. I need to start thinking of my options and smart decisions. Do I want to do an Angelina!?
Why is my life so complicated all of a sudden. Newly wed and clouded with loss and confusion. All I want is to glow in being a wife and focus on extending our family. But instead it’s hospital appointment after hospital appointment and talking through choices until your no more clear than you were before.
Having lived through my mums breast cancers twice and seeing her struggle and defeat it is a very grounding reality of the risk.
But a 10 hour surgery for natural reconstruction following a bi-lateral mastectomy is not any easy call to make.
And delaying starting a family at 35 is hard. A year minimum until strong enough to start trying. Then how long to conceive… I could be 37… my risk of healthy pregnancy…
So here I am writing this down, sending this into the ether of the world, trying to make sense of emotion and desperately searching for a rational conclusion.
I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to not do something. Do I see a fertility doctor. Do we try and get pregnant and then focus on surgery.
At the same time I cling to work and my marriage. Try to have stability wherever I can.
To be continued….