PCOS, Miscarriage and our Rainbow baby...how our miracle happened.
- Rachel Knight
- Jul 17, 2019
- 9 min read
PCOS, getting my diagnosis
Its not always easy to express yourself face to face, or even over social media. But to be honest, I find blogging really healing, in sharing my thoughts and feelings, for anyone that might be interested anyway! So I was diagnosed with #PCOS when I was 21 and newly married in 2003, I had what is called a 'missed miscarriage'. In truth the problems with my menstrual cycle started years before when I was approx 17yrs old. I started my periods when I was 11 and had always been spot on regular. Again, always been slightly overweight, but this wasn't due to excessive eating, I come from a family with the lovely fat gene curse. Anyways, at 17 I started to rapidly gain weight despite there being no change to my diet. And then started the spotting. To be honest I wasn't sure what caused it, but I did know I was too embarrassed to talk to anyone about it. I managed to cope with the spotting being light but continual for the next few years. It wasn't until the miscarriage that I confided in my husband and doctor that something wasn't right. My weight was a struggle. But as a student nurse I as able to keep fairly active and keep it within a certain amount of control. And there began the never ending cycle of #whaticall mortifying tests and examinations. I think the low point was being put on progesterone tablets to induce a 'un-natural' period. My doctor explained that my cycle was like a record player 'stuck' on the same note, and mine note at the time was spotting. So the progesterone was to get the record player needle moving again. Well I've never known blood loss like it. Collapsing on shift wasn't a fun experience. But as the months moved on, we had our diagnosis and I officially joined the #pcos club. The good thing about the #progesterone is at least the spotting stopped. But then I became the only woman who wished she could have a period. They just didn't come.
Facing #infertility
Over the next few years we watched our siblings welcome beautiful new babies into their homes. And the pain for us became more and more bitter. I tried to throw myself into my 'career', but working as a special care baby nurse, and then community children's nurse really wasn't helping me. We lived month to month seeing negative test after negative test. The heartache was unbearable and it was hard on our marriage. But I was blessed with the most loving and patient man alive.
Depression
In 2010 I went off work on long term sick with #depression. It wasn't really a surprise to be honest. But driving between home visits to weigh babies and thinking how easy it would be to drive the car into a wall wasn't exactly a high point in my life. Even whilst I was off work 'depressed' I tried to find a new focus and applied for a degree in health visiting. I got the place. But I couldn't even face going back to work for a few days prior to the course starting. When my place was taken away I handed in my notice. So what next? My antidepressants where kind of working. But I still had never felt so low about myself.
Taking back control
The decision to take control back over my own emotions came when I decided to do something 'radical' and purely selfish. I applied to go to #uni and study #fineart. I'd always loved art and getting A* GCSE and A in 'A'level was enough to tell me I could do it. So I started 4 year course studying fine art and I loved it. It really was a tonic. In my first year I explored my infertility and it certainly did 'exercise some demons' for me. I had purpose, I made sense of things, and I decided I would eventually study psychology and help children who had suffer trauma through art therapy. Motherhood was still something I wanted, but still caused pain. I found a place to tuck it away. It reared its ugly head occasionally when someone would ask 'when are you due' seriously not a good thing to say to a woman with PCOS who carries all her weight on her tummy and desperately wanted a baby. But my response of 'I'm not pregnant, I'm just fat' certainly shut them up, and dulled the pain for a while. It went back into the box.
Miscarriages
During my degree things changed. I remember visiting brother in #London so that I could do the student thing and visit art galleries. It was amazing. Well, not so much for him and his housemates. I woke up during the night and (sorry for the detail) projectile vomited all over their bathroom. They had to re-paint and the smell never truly went. Sorry again Stuart! But after a seriously precarious journey home trying to avoid a repeat episode on the train, I got home to find out I was #pregnant. We were elated. We told everyone. My sister bought me the cutest baby outfit. We had 2 days with our little one and then I started to bleed. It was light, but the next day home alone I felt my baby come away. Words can't describe how it felt. The physical pain was unreal. But emotionally I still can't describe exactly how that felt. It felt like the joy had literally been sucked from the entire earth and there was nothing left. In the next couple of years I lost another 2 babies, making 4 #miscarriages in total. Some we managed to get to an early scan and saw a blob. But in the end the outcome was the same. I couldn't keep any of them.
Adoption
We couldn't face the physical or emotional pain anymore. We make the decision to stop trying and plan to adopt. It was the right time for us to move on. All the baby things I'd bought to console myself over the years and give me hope, we sold and donated. We wanted to adopt siblings around school age. We were excited and so were our family. We entered a new phase in our lives. I #graduated with first class honours with my fine art degree and I truly felt proud of myself for the first time in many many years. With Christmas approaching in 2014 we talked about how it would be our last Christmas alone. Our #adoption panel was booked in for March. We had begun to look at profiles of children. We even found a couple of groups that would have matched our family perfectly. Everything was in place. And on Christmas Eve I woke up in the morning feel slightly 'off'. I had a pregnancy test left so I did it. And yes. I was pregnant. And without going into detail we had deliberately reduced our chances considerably. I called Paul and his first reaction was to wander if we could get away with waiting until I lost the baby before telling the #Adoption agency. We knew we couldn't lie. We knew the Adoption was over for now. I began to suffer the usual signs of losing the baby so we headed to the early pregnancy unit for a scan. It was too early for a heartbeat, so they took tests and told me to come back on Boxing Day for a repeat test to compare. #Christmas day the smell of sausage rolls cooking tipped me over the edge and I spent most of the day with my head down the loo!!!! Strangely the spotting stopped. I just felt so so ill. We went in for the repeat tests and were told we would get a call. We needed to know if my #HCG levels had increased at least double to show a viable pregnancy. The call came around 9pm that day. My levels had tripled. This one was here to stay. A few days later and we got a scan to see the heart beating!
I was actually pregnant!
The following weeks were hard. We were still convinced we would lose the #baby. Every 2 mins I felt like I could feel blood. But the days turned into weeks. We went to 8 weeks and the scan showed a healthy blob. But by 12 weeks our blob had arms and legs, and actually looked like a baby. The baby moved its arm around on the scan, like a wave. I'm here mummy. At that moment I felt pregnant. Well more than just in the way of sickness. But I became a #mum. I still spent every day petrified. But I had hope. We decided not to find out the gender at the 20 week scan, little blighter wasn't playing fair anyway. But our little 'peanut' was strong. And we gained hope every day. I'll never forget the feeling of the baby move, hiccups were the best! But of course always at night! But it wouldn't stay still long enough for dad to feel. Until I was 35 weeks and he managed to feel a good kick one Sunday evening. Monday I started contracting and the baby's movements reduced. What had been the most textbook pregnancy possible turned downward.
Reduced movements
One min I was dilated and the next the baby decided to go back from where it came. They couldn't monitor the heartbeat because the little blighter wouldn't stay still. And movements got less and less. After a scan could only find blood flow to placenta but no heartbeat the decision was made. I went in for a planned emergency #caesarean. Our beautiful son was born at 11:06 on the 5th August 2015. he gave a small whimper when he came out but no big scream I was expecting. I panicked and the #anesthetist beside me assured me he was wriggling around and clearly totally fine. I wasn't told that caesarean babies can be quiet. And I hadn't planned in any way to prepare for a caesarean. My husband was welcomed to come and see the baby and be able to tell me the gender. It was something he really wanted to do. He whispered to me 'what would you like' my response, 'I don't care, I think its a boy, but I just want to know if he's ok'. He replied 'its David. We had the names picked out since we were married. David Edwin Colin Knight, named after his Grandfathers and Daddy. Shockingly at that moment Paul was unceremoniously shoved out of the way and it felt like everyone in the room put pressure on my tummy as blood pooled onto the floor. I was lucky to be in the hands of a skilled surgical team who stablised me quickly. At last my baby boy was bought to me. I knew him instantly. I ached to hold him but my arms were strapped out with drips hanging everywhere. Paul held him to my face and that's the closest I got before they whisked him away due to low blood sugar. I am a type 1 #diabetic, and despite having perfect sugars during pregnancy he still went #hypoglycemic. He went to SCBU and I went to recovery. I kept thinking I could still feel him inside me. I was petrified he would be lost or worse and I had never held him. I calmed a little when Paul was able to go and take photos of him and take a teddy I had been cuddling to him so he had my smell. My midwife was amazing and called every hour for updates. Eventually at 4pm they had a bed for me and took me on a detour to SCBU. The feeling of holding my baby for the first time was incomparable. We fit together perfectly. I didn't ever want to let him go. It wasn't until gone midnight when my catheter was taken out that I was allowed to get in a wheelchair and see him again. The pain was unreal, but nothing was going to stop me from seeing him. And what a beautiful little boy he was. His newborn clothes were far too big. As a diabetic I was told to expect a big baby, but my 6lb 14oz baby was dinky!
Healing
Of course our lives have changed so much over the years. We truly did cherish every moment, and perhaps spoilt, our little boy a little too much. But he's now a well behaved (except at home) and confident little boy. If he asks for something he wants and we say no, he accepts it. He's doted on, but not spoilt lol!!! I find it unbelievable the journey we've been on, and now we are here facing him starting #school in September. We would have loved another baby, but there had been no sign in the last 4 years until January 2019 and I had another miscarriage. It was still very hard for us. I suffer vertigo after my miscarriages so that with a toddler was hard going. But David offering me 'cuddies' aka cuddles when I needed them to make me feel better, certainly hit the spot. I think we handled this one a little better. I feel as thought we've moved on from that stage in our lives now. We are now focusing on losing a little #weight and preparing to explore adoption one day again. We feel we have a lot of love to give a child who needs it. We have had many challenges over the last few years. The biggest was when Paul had a #stroke. I'll put that story in another blog, this one is too long already! But on a personal level, yes I still massively (pardon the pun) struggle with my weight and hormone levels. But the biggest step forward for me this year was turning to #doterra #essentialoils to help me come off #antidepressants. Again, all in another blog. But the last thing I want to say is how grateful I am for my #Avon business, without that I wouldn't be able to stay at home full time and be there for every second of my miracle boy's life. And still at the same time give him the life I've always wanted to give him.
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