
When I first realized I was spotting I went into a complete panic, frantically googling my symptoms day and night, reading every single story that contained the words spotting and miscarriage. I hardly slept, spending my days laid in bed playing Candy Crush (if I hear the theme tune now it makes me feel very sad). A few midwives and friends reassured me that it could be very normal, but advised me to keep an eye on the color of the blood. If it became bright red (fresh), I was to call the hospital.Apart from the odd, crampy twinge here and there, nothing seriously worrying manifested until the end of the second week, when the blood came hard and fast. I was in agony. I called the hospital, telling them I was sure I was losing my baby, and they sent an ambulance to my house, monitoring me on our way to the hospital.When I arrived, I was put on a stretcher right by the reception area and was waiting for about five hours to be seen. They brought me gas and air for the pain—which didn’t work—and, every time I went to the toilet, I lost more clotted blood. I was terrified.Finally, they got me in a cubicle, put me on a drip, and did lots of tests. “Lots of women can bleed like this throughout their pregnancies,” the nurses told me. I was in an unspeakable amount of pain by this point. I knew I was losing the baby and just wanted it to happen as fast as possible.About eight or nine hours later I was taken up to the maternity ward, where they wanted to do an internal examination. I was brought to a small side room and asked to lie down, but before they started I had what felt like an overwhelming urge to use the bathroom. This time, when I sat down on the toilet, I knew that whatever had slid out of me (I was too scared to look) was the embryo. I walked back into the room in a complete daze for the examination, where two lovely nurses got my legs up in stirrups. I took a lot of deep breaths and just held onto my boyfriend’s hand. I had no idea what was going on.
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