When you find out that you’re pregnant the mix of emotions is overwhelming. You instantly consider how you’ll be as a parent, how you’ll afford a child, question if your house is big enough? Will work support you? How and when will you tell people? Will you find out babies gender? What will you name them? So many questions, so many decisions.

It’s terrifying and elating in equal measures.

You never, however, consider in a million years that you will have to sit and choose the clothes you will dress your dead baby in, how you will manage the ‘fetal remains’ (legally the baby you’ve carried for more than four months now isn’t even legally considered a baby), how you’ll go home after giving birth, empty and without your child, how you’ll cope producing milk for a baby that didn’t survive? How you’ll feel about your still pregnant body that let you down so unbelievably?

These are the questions that, never in a million years, I thought we’d have to find an answer to, but unfortunately that’s exactly what we had to do.

Surprisingly 1 in 4 pregnancies end in ‘miscarriage’, a term which doesn’t comfortably fit the experience of giving birth to a still baby, but that is the reality. Despite the fully and perfectly formed body, tiny nails, forming but functional ears, your baby isn’t considered a neonatal death, just fetal ‘tissue’.

That magic 12 week mark brings relief to many but sadly doesn’t mean there is no longer a chance for the worst to happen.

Trigger warning: You may find the story below distressing.

After having some heavy bleeding I had my second visit to A&E in weeks. I spent 8 hours of my birthday on a ward awaiting a scan and after being reassured our baby was happy and healthy we were informed the cause of my bleeding was a low lying placenta. We were discharged with an open access return to ward card and went home relieved and reassured.

Less than two days later however I spent an uncomfortable day, frequently changing sanitary towels merely putting it down to a common symptom of pregnancy- increased vaginal discharge. At one point in the day I wandered if I may have peed myself a little, at 16 weeks it wasn’t uncommon and seemed plausible as the urge in pregnancy comes on quickly and gives you little chance to find a bathroom! Part of me questioned ‘could this be my waters?’ But thinking I was being silly and over worrying, I quickly brushed this thought away. Later that Sunday evening we invited some of our closest friends over to finally share the news and celebrate our pregnancy and new house. Only then did we announce on social media, feeling that at this point we were in safe territory.

Unfortunately, after everyone left, the joy of the evening faded rapidly. I used the toilet before I got into bed only to pass a blood clot the size of my fist into the loo. That was it, hysterical, I knew this was the start of a nightmare and Danny rushed me back to ward we’d left only days before. After an examination I was offered the chance to go home and come back Tuesday for a scan as Monday was a bank holiday. I declined, I knew in my heart that something terrible was going on and I wasn’t going to go home and angst over the possibilities for over 24 hours.

That first night in hospital Danny wasn’t allowed to stay, alone, frightened and lost I cried until he returned the next morning.

At around mid day on Monday we finally got our scan, the doctor told us it wasn’t good news. My waters had broken and baby was without any amniotic fluid. We were heartbroken. It gave our baby an ridiculous low chance at survival but while there was a heart beat, there was hope.

I started reading stories of babies born to this condition, often, if they survived there were disabilities, deformities and lung problems but this was something I was well equipped to deal with given my career and to me had very little impact on how we wanted to continue. Despite overwhelming medical advice to terminate our baby that was never an option, after all some babies defied all odds and were born healthy and happy, even when waters had broken as early as mine at 16 weeks.

We had hope and fear in equal measures. In an emotional limbo where we weren’t able to grieve but weren’t able to find any relief either. The odds were completely stacked against us. Every scan we had that confirmed a heart beat was a miracle, our baby was fighting against all odds.

We wished and hoped for a miracle, and truly I think we both believed our baby would be in that 1%.

On 29.05.19 at around 11pm our third scan of the day confirmed our worst nightmare, our little boys heart had stopped beating, in that moment I felt mine had too.

Devastated we then awaited natural miscarriage, each hour that our baby stayed inside my body left me at higher risk of sepsis, and sadly each hour he remained inside he became more maserated.

We decided together that the best option now was for me to be induced into labour. As terrified as I was to be without him inside my tummy, part of me just wanted for this to all be over.

At around 1pm I was given tablets to start contraction, slowly the pain mounted but without any signs of labour, three hours passed and I had to take more. The nurses prepared me that what was to follow would be painful and that the tablets would likely cause me diarrhoea and vomiting on top of labour. They did exactly that, on a concoction of paracetamol, anti sickness medication and gas and air I laboured without complication.

After nearly 6 hours of indescribable emotionally and physically painful labour, I gave birth to his perfect little body at 18:45 30.05.91.

After being cleaned up baby was returned to us in the box we had dressed earlier that day and with the sleeping bag we had chosen for us to dress him in. We sat for hours holding him and marvelling at how perfect he was. No one can ever prepare you for the pain of holding a cold baby, but also the desperate feeling of not wanting to ever let go.

Before being discharged we made arrangements for his body to be cremated in a simple ceremony we will attend after he has returned from post mortem.

Never once did I give up hope that he could battle through however he was too perfect for this world and lost his battle fighting.

I wanted to share my story not because I want sympathy but because, although it’s incredibly rare, it happens and there is very little awareness of this condition.

As someone that is young, healthy and low risk across the board I never dreamed I’d fall victim to a condition that affects less that 2% of pregnancies.

PPROM or Preterm Pre-labour Rupture Of Membranes is when your waters break early leaving you and your baby seriously vulnerable to infection and putting your baby at a less than 1% survival rate.

I have posted a link to a just giving page where I’d like to raise a donation for Little Heartbeats, a charity run by families that have experienced PPROM first hand and want to help women to know their rights and choices when faced with this devastating news. Unfortunately too many women are put under immense pressure to terminate their baby against their wishes with medical professionals giving up on their baby even when there is still a heartbeat.

Hold your loved ones that little bit tighter tonight, life is precious and fragile and pregnancy is a miracle.

💕Mika Poole💕

Always in our hearts.

#PPROM #ppromawarenessUK #ppromloss #littleheartbeats

http://www.little-heartbeats.org.uk