I just wanted to add a warning here... I go into a bit of detail about the miscarriage, so please make sure you only read as far as you are comfortable with.  I've written it so that you get a warning in the lead up before I go into too much detail, so please stop whenever you start to feel uncomfortable.  

Please also be aware that it is quite long.

I don’t know where to start… it just hurts so much.

I suppose that I should say that Steve (my fiancé) wasn’t the father and it wasn’t a planned pregnancy.

Even though I hadn’t planned to get pregnant, I loved the babies as if it had been planned.

When I first found out that I was pregnant it came as a total shock.  I went to buy a pregnancy test and I remember thinking that I was being silly and that there was no way that I could be pregnant.

I did the test at College and didn’t believe it when I saw the 2 blue lines so I did the other test straight away… it said to wait for a week before I did the second one but there was no way I could wait that long.

I did the second test and the result was the same – 2 blue lines – I was pregnant.

I couldn’t believe it.  I just sat there.  I was totally shocked.

I must have been there for ages ‘cos one of my friends came in looking for me saying that she was worried.  I hid the test and said I was fine.  I couldn’t tell her the truth, I mean the test was wrong – I wasn’t pregnant – I couldn’t be.  It was impossible.

I carried on as normal until I could buy another test.  I bought 2 different brands this time – just in case.

I did them both and each time the result was the same – 2 blue lines – positive test – I was pregnant.

All the bits started slotting into place – I’d missed my last 2 periods but I’d put it down to stress.  I kept going to the loo but I kept putting it down to drinking too much Coke.  I kept throwing up but I put it down to eating something that didn’t agree with me.

It all made sense now.

It still didn’t sink in that I was carrying a baby – I was just pregnant.

I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant.  I couldn’t – what if my father found out?  It would be the perfect excuse for more abuse.

After a while I started realising that being pregnant meant I was carrying a baby.  I was going to give birth and be a mother.

The shock soon turned into absolute joy.  I couldn’t stop smiling.  I had always wanted children and now I was pregnant – my dream had come true.

Because I couldn’t tell anyone about the pregnancy I had to keep the joy and excitement to myself.

I knew that I should see a doctor so that they could make sure everything was going O.K, but I couldn’t say anything to my GP ‘cos he was a family friend and I knew that whatever I said to him would get back to my father before I got home from the appointment, so talking to a doctor was out of the question.

I was doing a childcare course at College at the time so I had all sorts of textbooks and stuff that told you about pregnancy.  I spent every spare minute looking at them and reading them.

I was so incredibly happy – I would constantly be thinking of my baby and when I was on my own I would talk to it and tell my baby how much I loved them.

After a while I realised that I would gently rub my tummy when I talked to my baby.  That soon moved onto me putting my hand on my tummy at every opportunity… I suppose sometimes it was a way of showing how much I loved my child and sometimes it was a way of protecting him or her. 

I think a few people were suspicious when I started doing it so much, but no-one ever said anything.

I tried to work out how far along I was and how big the baby was and what it would look like by looking in my text books… the size of my fingernail… size of a grape… size of my thumb… size of a plumb…

I loved being pregnant and I loved the thought of becoming a mother…

…until I started getting some pains.  I didn’t think anything of it at first – I thought maybe I’d been over-doing it or something, so I slowed down, but I was still getting the pains.

I started getting worried, but there was nothing I could do.  I didn’t want to admit it to myself, but deep down I knew that this was the beginning of the end.

I suppose I should have gone to the hospital but I was so scared and I didn’t want my parents to know what was happening to me.

When I started bleeding I knew what was coming next.

I woke up at about 1am in excruciating agony… I’ve never been in so much pain in my life.

After a while the pain started to subside and then it would come back again, but it would be even more painful than the last time.

I realised that they must be contractions.

I was in labour.

I didn’t know what to do so I just sat in bed in tears, trying not to scream with each new set of contractions.

I was in agony.

I didn’t know what to do.

I was scared.

I was loosing my baby and there was nothing I could do about it.

I eventually decided that I should make my way to the bathroom – I could pick up some towels and sheets on the way to try and mop up some of the blood.

After what seemed like forever I made it to the bathroom.  I put down a few layers of towels and sheets on the floor and I sat on them with my back against the wall.

I was inconsolable now.  I was sat there, tears streaming down my face, waiting to loose my precious baby.

I tried not to think about what was happening to me.  I tried to block it out – to think of other things – like I had done with the rape.

I tried to concentrate on what I could see and hear. 

I looked at the walls, looked up at the ceiling, tried to think of nice things.  I looked at the shower curtain and the floorboards.

I listened to the wind and the rain outside.  I could hear the rain on the skylight and the wind rattling the windows.

I could see the reflection of the lightning across the sky and I could hear the rumble of thunder.

I remember thinking that the weather was illustrating exactly how I was feeling right then…

I was going through my own personal physical and emotional thunderstorm.

After what seemed like forever I got a sudden overwhelming urge to push.

I pushed and pushed as hard as I could and eventually I gave birth to my baby.

I picked up the tiny child from the towel and just held it for a while.  I looked at my watch.  It was 5am.

I sat there just holding my baby for a while - just looking at it and thinking about what could have been.

I felt totally drained.  I had nothing left.  A part of me died with that baby.

After a short while I looked at my watch again and realised that it was 5.30am… I had to start clearing everything up – my mum would be awake at 6am and I didn’t want her to find out what had happened.

I cleaned myself and the blood up and put the towels and sheets in the washing machine – I could tell my mum that I’d had a bad period – that would explain the blood and why I was up so early – and, most importantly, I knew she wouldn’t tell my dad either.

I was in a daze after that.  I had to try and act as normally as I could otherwise people would get suspicious.  I think I did O.K… I explained my pale skin, tear stained cheeks and swollen red eyes as being tired ‘cos of being up all night doing homework.

I couldn’t tell anyone the truth.

I couldn’t risk it – what if my father found out?

I tried to carry on as normally as I could but it was so difficult.  I’d lost my baby and I wasn’t allowed to grieve for it.

Exactly a week later I woke up in agony again.  It was the same pain as before – coming in waves.

I’d been in pain all week and I was still bleeding from the miscarriage so maybe this was the same… maybe it was normal… maybe this was supposed to happen after a miscarriage.

But it didn’t feel normal.

It felt like it had a week earlier.

When I’d had the miscarriage…

… it couldn’t be.

No.

It’s not possible.

Not again.

Please, no.  Please.

I was in tears.  I had an awful feeling about this.  It couldn’t be happening again.  I couldn’t be having another miscarriage… could I?

I wanted to scream, but I couldn’t… this couldn’t be happening.  It’s not fair.  I’ve already been punished.  I’ve already lost my baby.  Why is this happening?

The contractions started getting stronger and stronger.

I knew I had to do something fast.

I locked myself in the bathroom and panicked – I’d forgotten to get any towels or sheets.

What was I going to do?

I couldn’t cope.

Another contraction.

More pain.

I had to do something soon.

I looked around the bathroom and decided the shower was my best option. 

I got in and sat in the tray with my back against the wall.  I still couldn’t believe this was happening again.

Before long I got the urge to push again.

I still didn’t realise that this was my second child I was loosing.  I thought I might be delivering the placenta or something.

I pushed as hard as I could, just like I had done a week before and I hoped that it would be the placenta.

After a while I stopped pushing and looked down to see what I had delivered. 

A baby.

My baby.

My precious child.

I was totally shocked and devastated.  I couldn’t believe it.

Not again.

I had been carrying twins and not known and now I had lost them both.

I looked at my watch.

4.17am.

I couldn’t believe what had happened to me.  It wasn’t real.  It had been a dream.  It must have been a dream.

I sat there for a while trying to take in what had happened.

It was too much.  I couldn’t cope.

Eventually I decided that I should clear up.  It was almost 6am so I could turn the shower on and tell my mum that I had woken up at 5.30am and decided not to go back to sleep.

Like before, I tried to carry on as normal.  It didn’t seem real and I couldn’t tell anyone.

But I had to.  I couldn’t cope on my own.  I had to tell someone.  But I didn’t trust anyone.

But I couldn’t do this on my own.

I had to confide in someone.

When my tutor sent us out in groups to do some research on something, I grabbed the opportunity with both hands.

I told the 2 people I was grouped with… they were both on my course.

BIG mistake!

By the end of the day everyone on my course knew about the twin miscarriage and someone had told my tutor.

By the end of the week I’d been thrown off the course.

Fortunately my tutor didn’t say that I’d had a miscarriage when she wrote to my parents to tell them about being thrown off the course.