Miscarriage is all too common, yet women often bear the pain in isolation, afraid to raise the taboo topic and all the complexity that comes with it. Lauren Jeans shares her story.
I’m currently waiting to miscarry.
I’m seven weeks pregnant, and baby has stopped growing. It is not a viable pregnancy. I’m writing about it because this is not an uncommon story with at least one in four known pregnancies ending in miscarriage, yet it’s one that’s rarely discussed in a professional setting. This is going to impact my work week, and so here I am, writing openly and honestly on a Sunday night before the week begins, for reasons I’m still not sure about. Potentially to gain some clarity. Potentially to raise awareness. Potentially to start some conversations.
I’m an architect, Parlour Annexe coordinator, and mum of two gorgeous kids. I work part time, and enjoy trying to juggle work, parenting and domestic duties with my favourite team mate and ever-patient husband. I feel very lucky with my lot, which I guess plays a big part in my perspective on what’s currently happening.
I’ve been going about normal life the past few days and on some occasions I wish I had a large sign above me saying “experiencing a miscarriage”. I’m not really sure why I feel like this, but my best guess is an appeal to be treated gently.
It was a pharmacist who broke me this week. I was prescribed progesterone (there’s conflicting evidence on whether this can help with a threatened miscarriage). I’d spent the previous evening waiting in hospital to be seen by a doctor, at the request of a midwife after a virtual appointment. It took five hours for me to be seen, to confirm it was an inter-uterine pregnancy that was measuring two weeks behind, to be prescribed progesterone, and sent home. I got up early and headed to the 24-hour pharmacy, handed over my script, to be met with “it’s not valid”. There were two parts to the script, which I had wrongly assumed were two different scripts. I explained the circumstances to the pharmacist – I’d waited five hours for this script, driven 20 minutes to get it as early as possible, and it was time-sensitive. This was met with “it’s not valid”. I asked if he was serious, which he was, so I left. I broke down crying on the kerb outside. Wails of frustration, disappointment, anger. Finally an outlet for the mess the past 24 hours had been. I picked myself up, and went and got the second piece of paper.
Two days later, my bloods confirmed that the pregnancy was not progressing. However, I’ve been told a miscarriage cannot be diagnosed until another ultrasound has been carried out in ten days, or until the miscarriage starts spontaneously. I know in my body and in my heart what is happening, and have done for a few days, but technically, I’m currently in limbo. What does this mean for this week?
Can I attend my site meeting with a three-hour drive each way? Will tasks be a welcome distraction, or will I struggle to focus? Will my tolerance be substantially less than normal? Will it all catch up on me when I least expect it? Will I start bleeding in the office? What happens when the miscarriage does start? Will I need to take time off? Should I take time off? Do I claim compassionate leave like we now can, or will that be too much explaining? Maybe it won’t be too bad? When will this all be over? Should I talk about it? I’m happy to talk openly about this on my own terms, but I might not be prepared for kindness in the tearoom.
There’s an emotional and potentially physical toll this is going to have on my work week; what am I supposed to do about it? Head down and get on with it, which I’ve done previously? Pretend it’s not happening? Chat to someone? Who? Will they think we are trying for another baby? Would that stunt my career progression? Will they think differently of me? I’m not the first person to have these questions, and I guarantee I won’t be the last. How does this fit into gender equity?
I’m in a fortunate position that one of my bosses is a friend of seven years. I’ve been able to chat to her, let her know my situation, and explain that I don’t know what’s coming. This has been met with understanding and compassion; the offer to attend appointments with me. How lucky am I?
I know I’ve not processed all of this yet, and I don’t think I will until it’s over and done with. When that will happen, like a lot of things, is out of my control. There are so many questions, and most of them I don’t know the answer to. I guess I’m putting them out there, not to be answered, but for them to be considered.
Women’s health has a long way to go in every sense, and I believe the only way to change that is to normalise it. The good and the bad. Remove the taboo for something that is so common, yet so often experienced in isolation. To make sure we are supporting our friends, our family, our colleagues. To ensure we treat others gently. You never know what someone is going through.
Resources
The Pink Elephants Support Network provides the latest resources, information and peer-support for anyone impacted by early pregnancy loss. It also offers a Workplace Support Program with specialised content and training for people leaders and colleagues, support resources for women and their partners, people leader learning sessions, research on pregnancy loss in the workplace, and employee engagement initiatives to create lasting change.
Miscarriage Australia is a collaborative group of researchers and clinicians who undertake research to improve support for those affected by miscarriage. Their mission is to provide acknowledgement, advocacy, information and support to those affected by miscarriage in Australia. Resources include a suite of useful fact sheets.
Red Nose Grief and Loss offers round-the-clock support with its 24/7 Bereavement Support Line on 1300 308 307. The Bereavement Support Service provides specialised support for anyone affected by miscarriage, stillbirth, baby or child death.
Lauren Jeans is an architect, Parlour Annexe coordinator, and mum of two gorgeous kids.
