Are there really blue skies?

Having a later start to school today as it's my PPA morning and the rat men were meant to come today. They came but they didn't buzz our flat before leaving! Ridiculous! Had a strongly worded conversation with the man at the end of the phone who was astonished as I that they had come but left before doing anything! Grrr! At least I managed to do a wash meaning that I don't have to go into work naked this morning.

Having seen my mother-in-law's status this morning that there was a weak bit of sunlight, I ran to the window in awe. Yes, sure enough, amidst the grey cloud, there were snippets of blue sky. Even with the biting cold, the blue sky offers a ray of hope that we might be moving towards summer. Everything is much lighter but with the recent weather, that has felt like more of a lie.

There were a lot of tears yesterday, including almost tearing up in the classroom, which would have been a true disaster since my poor TA was off with two poorly daughters. Everything went well with my colleague's scan- I think there was a bit of fear in me that it could happen to her too- to reach the scan and find that things were too small or that there was no heartbeat. Her daughter has ASD and I was really worried how that could affect her-she's been on an even balance recently and I didn't want her to slide backwards at a time when her mum would need to rest. Despite my fears, everything was okay and her response was that if it was another girl (she already has a sister) that she wouldn't be looking after it! She clutched the photo for the rest of the afternoon, only allowing me to put it in her bag when there was a child ruthlessly cutting through pieces of paper next to her. I am a horrendous anti-fantasist- worrying and imagining the worst case scenarios and planning what I would do if they happened. Paul always looks aghast when I talk about when I walk by myself in the dark and do a running commentary for Crimewatch..."Sarah was last seen walking past this block of flats at 9pm..." It seems to be an alternate weight to the Pollyanna perspective that I project. I'm glad that my pupil had good news though.

I gave my colleague a hug and wished her congratulations when I handed her daughter over at the end of the day- I didn't cry then. I meant it with my whole heart- it does work out for other people and one day, I hope it will work for Paul and myself. In fact the interesting part was that I didn't cry from that point onward- had a parent on my tail who wanted to talk about some time off for a family wedding so I couldn't become teary then. After that, I ended up helping two teachers with their data (rather than heading home and tidying up the house hehehe!) and even ended up in conversation with one of them about their period pain (it's funny how we all talk about it- some of my closest friendships have started over a period conversation!) I noticed some small spots of blood yesterday and took it that my period had started- it would have been around the right time too- so I laughed with her about how I hadn't had a period since October and how odd it is to be back to having them again. She hadn't known about the four miscarriage and was utterly gobsmacked when I told her, also seeming a little surprised at how upbeat I was (check my brave face out- I will win an Oscar for it one day!) It doesn't seem to have developed into a period but I don't think that I possibly have enough blood or lining to have a proper one, having bleed for two and a half weeks after the D&C- I may actually die with anymore blood loss!

There were a few tears shed this morning after Paul left for work. Back in December, I was given paperwork for the Saying Goodbye services by my GP. They are an organisation set up by a husband and wife team who lost five babies themselves where they run special services for people who have lost babies at any stage, whether miscarriage, stillbirth or later. These are held in churches and cathedrals across the country and are coming to America soon. It seems a lovely idea but I'm not sure that it would give me anymore closure. I see life and death quite scientifically- to me, we make our own heavens during our time on Earth by living our lives as best we can, helping other people wherever we can. When we die, that's pretty much it: there is the physical reincarnation through ashes being spread, plants growing and being eaten etc, then the genetic through having offspring and the mental through being remembered by friends and relatives but unlike when I was a child, I don't believe that people walk up sunbeams to reach heaven. It wouldn't be helpful for me to go and light four candles for the babies that I've lost because they still exist in not only my heart but Paul's and those of my family's too. Anyway, back to what I cried at- the Saying Goodbye team have created a video which had me crying huge globule type tears:

Although, the services are not something to help me- the job that Saying Goodbye are doing is amazing and they are helping so many people get through this properly rotten time.

Through the Saying Goodbye Facebook page, I found their sister charity Growing You which does seem like something I may need in the future. Having bordered on needing to be sectioned during the last pregnancy (if only for the sake of my iPhone battery), I know that the next time I fall pregnant, I will need a lot of support not to turn into a crazy woman. I hope I have learnt some perspective from miscarriage number four but who knows what will happen when I actually get the HCG running through my veins again. I truly did feel a certain sense of relief when the pregnancy ended as I didn't have to worry about seeing blood when I went to the toilet anymore or have to check food like a hawk, making sure that I could eat it. It doesn't really seem to matter how many good intentions you have, a pregnancy will either make it to the end or not whether you dip your chips in mayo or don't. When it comes down to the genes, it comes down to something so completely out of your control and being such a control freak, the two don't really mix. When we get around to trying to make another baby, I will need a lot of cuddles and talking through it.

Anyway, I'd better put something on other than my pjs and head off under these almost blue skies to work. The heating has gone off too and I'll only be in trouble if I leave it on all day again!

How do I react?

Yesterday was my first without crying. Possibly my first day since miscarriage number 3, which was just before Christmas. It was my mother-in-law's birthday and after a pretty painless day at school (even after taking year 6 grammar booster) I legged it into town to have dinner with my in-laws. Despite killer tiredness, I managed the whole day without a single tear!

Alain de Botton wrote this on twitter the other day:
" Hard to say to a friend: I need cheering up because of the sadness your success has caused me."
This couldn't be more true.

Not quite as brave this morning. Had a little weep in the shower as my colleague goes for her dating scan today. Her daughter is in my class and last night she came to remind me that she was going to take her to the scan in the morning. I feel so guilty for not being overjoyed for her. It's so hard when her pregnancy would have been so close in dates to my own.

Having really odd coughing/retching fits at the moment- very similar to my morning sickness retches. Along with that, I have also got really irritated nipples(sorry probably too much information!)- it's almost as if my body is taunting me at the moment with what it should have been doing if it had decided to work properly.

After the weekend's chat with Paul, I do feel much more relaxed- I suppose I've got a bit of a reprieve for a while before my body has to do anything. I have to try to be as normal as I possibly can- not buying a million sticks unlike last time! It's not as if they can tell you anything about how the pregnancy is progressing- they just tell you that you have enough hormone in your body to be pregnant. I was peeing on sticks like a mad woman last time- twice to three times a week checking that I was still pregnant- I even did one the morning before the scan when obviously things had gone completely tits up. I dread to think how much I spent on tests. There's this widget that you can use that shows you how much money you have spent on trying to get pregnant but to me right now, that just seems like a whole other statistic that I don't need to be worrying about.

So I have a couple of months before the madness starts again. When my period restarts, I don't know quite how I'll react- it wasn't exactly a normal reaction that I had when we first had sex after the miscarriage- no husband really wants his wife in floods of tears straight after making love! It's hard not making links between the two things and what has happened. It can't be allowed to continue like that and it hasn't in regards to having sex- completely back to normal there now but I think it's understandable given three miscarriages within a year- something has got to give!

Hopefully, August will just be a time of preparation for my best mate's wedding in September- I can use all her DIY projects as a way of distracting me from the fact my November pregnancy would have been due then. Also the September one will hopefully be diluted by our first wedding anniversary. It would have been awesome to have had a baby to mark the date but this way, Paul and I get to celebrate what was the most amazing day ever without having to worry about going into labour!

Who knows, I might not be able to drink by then!

Where does the weekend go?

After a bit of a grotty end to the week, yesterday was such a lovely day. Despite the winter fail of March, after I had finished tutoring, I headed back home via Sainsburys (and the world's angriest man on the 122- was actually shoved out of the way so that he could scream at the bus driver!) where Paul met me and we walked home together. After my mock complaining all the way, we settled down with lunch and stuck on Breakfast at Tiffanys. Once the film had finished, it was time for buttery crumpets and a big cuddle on the sofa. I think there is a very definite link between the crappy days vs good days in relation to the amount of physical contact- the more cuddles, the better I feel!

We then had "the Talk". That "Talk". It's been bubbling away inside my head for a long time- felt a little like being a teenager and about to reluctantly own up to something to my parents, rather than a discussion that Paul and I needed to have! I was worried that it was just going to be a lot of sobbing and that Paul would do his normal thing of, "I just wants what's best for you" but this wasn't just about me, it was about us as a family. Quite a lot of people have asked me how many more times I can let myself go through this and even how many more times our relationship can manage to cope.

The optimist in me, my inner Pollyanna, speaks in quite a clear voice saying that if my mum and step mum managed to have babies naturally, I should be able too. It's just that waiting for the right numbers to come up- the genetic lottery. So my next pregnancy could result in a baby, who knows!

We both said that we'd wait a couple of months- let my body have a couple of normal cycles and certainly, the first thing we need to wait for is the meeting with Mr Lee and hear the results of the tests. Everything else, as I've said before seems completely normal- the blood tests/ internal scans all came back fine. I think as a matter of self protection, I've already told myself that the genes are the reason for number 4 too. It's just a bit too scary to think of any other reasons for things going wrong- ONE THING AT A TIME!

Either way, dependent on Mr Lee's findings, we will have another go naturally in a couple of months. If that then goes wrong, we both thought that depending on how we are feeling, we would either choose PGD/egg donation or adoption. All the way through, I think the ultimate thing we've got to keep in mind is how we're feeling at the time. We have got time; I turn 31 in November so time is something that is on our side. It's weird- I really like having a clear set path normally, with exact plans in place but this is one thing that I cannot completely control. I actually feel quite calm even though nothing has really changed and it's all because I've got Paul to go through it with.

It was good to have the "talk", finally. I know it was eating away at me- not knowing when was the right time to bring it up but even thought this stuff is tough to talk about, it's really important that we keep talking, cuddling and watching old films on the sofa. I cannot wait until next weekend's extra days as it's not only our six month-aversary with a promise of Argentinian steak but also an excuse for extra cuddles and more old films.
Six months since this:

Photos by the epic genius of Andrea Ellison and Boo Marshall

Are you okay?

...and the answer is... Yes, I am okay. There have been a flurry of concerned emails, texts and messages asking just how okay I am. I realise that some of the things that I write are quite brutal and honest but please remember that this is just writing down what is in my head and this is the fourth time of thinking and feeling these things. There are days that are utter shit and others that are fine where I feel myself again.

I am hugely grateful for all the support and love that has been shown to us. As I have mentioned before, pragmatism is one of the things that I am trying to use to keep perspective on everything. A wonderful husband, great friends, a loving family, a job that I adore, a pretty flat in a great area and two daft mogs. I have an awful lot that so many others don't and must remember that but also not beat myself with it either.

Part of the doldrums is not knowing what should come next. A break definitely as I need to heal physically and mentally before trying again. There are almost too many options (spoilt brat!) but with no guarantee of a baby at the end of the different treatments available, it's very hard to know where to start. I am very scared of IVF treatments. Very scared. It's so invasive and really messes around with your body- I haven't really coped well with the loss of the pregnancies so am I really strong enough to be able to go through that?

It's not just babywise that I don't know the next steps. I'm not really very sure what's going on with teaching- Michael Gove has waged war on our professionalism as teachers, there will be a lot of changes and a lot of strike action (with money already being put away to cover strike days- seriously!). Our school is also going through a lot of change with a high staff turnover this year, a new school building and mixed results from the children. I'm in my sixth year of teaching (most people quit by their third year) and with all the baby stuff going on, I am not in any place to start taking on senior management roles. I do already have responsibilities for MFL and I shall be rolling out a whole school award that focuses on the rights of the child (not only teaching them that they have rights but that they cannot take them away from others). When discussing the changes with my step mum and pondering a move, she made a really good point that sometimes it's better to be part of the team that gets the boat afloat rather than jumping ship. I love my school so much. We have the best children on this planet- beautiful kids who make everyday special, even the really crappy ones.

Had sex ed today with my Year 5 boys- there was all sorts of hilarity with tampons and high fives with sanitary towels on their hands. It's amazing how understanding they can be- one of them asked if when a women bled, it hurt them and when I explained that the bleeding didn't hurt but the cramping does, all of them looked very concerned and made all the right noises. Where we are discussing a lot about why we go through puberty, they have asked a lot of questions. One of the boys, as I was taking them downstairs to dismiss them, asked if I wanted to have a baby and I responded honestly: that I want a baby very much. He then said that when he first met me, he thought I already had a baby as I was so much like a mum! A very sweet thing to say (I'm hoping that he didn't mean my big belly!)

One thing's for sure that I must make sure that I do, even with all this change and confusion, I must make sure that I don't just use this as my only means of communicating my feelings. I must keep talking to Paul. We all know the consequences of a lack of communication in marriage but with babycrack involved, I think it destroys even more relationships. A baby would be the most amazing gift on this planet but I have already been blessed with an amazing marriage. I must not let it slide.

Which is the best shield? Earplugs or eye gouging?

Today I was helping a friend at work with a training session for student teachers, sitting in the shared area cutting up pieces of paper for our bookmaking workshop. A middle leaders course was happening concurrently in the training room opposite and whilst I was measuring bits of card and desperately trying not to break the guillotine, one of the people on the course came out to go to the loo.  BOOM! Pregnant tummy IN YOUR FACE!

It was like being punched in the stomach whilst simultaneously having my throat twisted. The gasping sobs were lurking and my eyes pricked. I breathed through it without actually crying but the awkwardness of trying to create actual answers to questions was beyond me. By the time of the staff meeting, after some cheeky chain smoking, I'd pulled myself together but even the smokers' shed is a bit of a minefield at the moment with one of our members of staff also currently being pregnant. Earlier, during break-time, the colleague in question was there chatting to another about her pregnancy- there is no escape.

So utterly ridiculous. I don't live their lives. I don't know what they've been through. It's not as if people wear badges detailing everything that they've experienced during their existence.

The pain I feel is real though. It's a whole bag of emotions swooshing around in my belly, ready to explode at any point. It's almost crippling at times. The tears are always there. I want my babies back. I want to still be pregnant or already be a mummy. I want to be attending those midwife appointments. I want my belly to be growing and be staring at it everyday. Seeing someone else with something that is bordering obsession for you is a killer.

It is a bit more than feeling low, possibly depression but I'll get through it. I've done it before. The deputy head brought up going to see a counselor (I was going to see one to get me through the pregnancy without turning into a complete psychopath) but all the other times that I have gone to see one, I have had a clear idea of what I am working towards. Stopping cutting. Stopping throwing up. Stopping beating myself up (ahem!). This time...? It's not something that I can mend through a course or two of CBT. What would I be aiming for? Psychotherapy cannot magic you a baby.

So a bit of a bad day. It started quite hilariously though- ripped my leggings on the way into work, dropped the coffee jar- destroyed the lid, split coffee over my clothes and almost tipped my coffee over one of the children's tables (it was freezing so no reason to lose my job).

A lovely part of today was receiving a message from a complete stranger on the blog. A beautiful message about their own loss and experiences. It's the magic of the internet when a friend of a friend of a friend, comments on your blog! I don't want this to be a means of just catharsis for me but I found that when I went looking for a similar type of blog, I couldn't find many other than the odd entry here and there. Whenever a child is timid about asking a question in class, I always remind them that if they are thinking it, it's likely that others are thinking the same. Personal experience has found swathes of religious imagery, talking about the babies as being angels but nothing that really deals with it. For me, that doesn't resonate. I love mythology, some of the religious stories (that aren't completely horrendous) and I almost wish I could take comfort in the belief that there was some other higher power or reason for being, who would be watching for me and caring but that isn't me and I'm sure that there are many others out there who feel the same.

This blog isn't just being written for me. I am writing it for every other woman who has wept for a lost baby.

What's wrong with your face?

I had this once asked of me whilst working at my last school by a child with ASD. I had make up on and this is a big change as normally, I am bare faced at work (wasn't about to tell her that I had just been for an interview at my now current school!)

Had to put make up the other week at work. One of the major downers with a miscarriage (are there any pros?) is that your skin reaches new depths of white. Paul often jokes that you can see through his skin, it is that white- kind of like a lizard that only comes out at night. Well, pasty through shock and blood loss is not something that parents really need to see. Children take you as you are. You could come in wearing a black bin bag- they might raise an eyebrow but they don't particularly care as long as you are their normal teacher and you act in a way to which they are accustomed. The kids reactions on seeing me in make up were priceless- declaring me a model.

Right now, I look and feel anything but a model. A friend of mine keeps demanding that I take care of myself. That is something I really need to do... soon...when I feel a little more human! My skin is shocking- constant spots, rashes and blotchiness. The onslaught of hardcore hormones since November last year has taken a toll on my skin big time. It's probably a mixture of the hormones and that wonderful exhaustion that comes with pregnancy and post miscarriage. That complete fog where you can't physically do anything let alone cook proper food. I think I have cooked one proper meal since January. It is now March. Living on a diet of convenience food is really terrible- I have ballooned too! Had a bit of a surprise when they weighed me for the op- if we do go the IVF route, I will have to shift some weight before then.

I can't wait to feel like me again. The deputy head, I think, thought me mad when I said I couldn't wait for my periods to restart. I haven't had one since October last year and I cannot wait until my body gets back to normal. Normal mood swings. One or two spots for a couple of days. A bit of bloating. It is pretty damn gutting when your body makes huge changes and all for nothing. I think one of the biggest changes is in your boobs. At Christmas, two days after I miscarried for the third time, I rolled over in bed and realised that my boobs didn't hurt anymore- made a joke about it with Paul and then burst into tears. This time, I was desperate for my boobs not to hurt anymore. It just seemed like a cruel trick of nature for my body to still think it was pregnant even though everything was over.

So, my thoughts about getting my face back... I have an app on my iPhone that trains you for a 5K run. I ran a 5K race in Hyde Park a few times- it was good fun even though I really can't run. I look a little like a rubber chicken and with big boobs- I really wasn't built for running. Time to give it a go. Shift some of the extra weight and get the endorphins running. I am also very tempted by a flamenco class in Greenwich. Just have to start becoming Sarah again.

What shall we watch tonight?

You know that saying, "Walking on eggshells"? I feel like I am doing that around myself- at times it almost feels like I split into two people: the strong Sarah and the Sarah that needs to be protected. The strong Sarah flicks through channels on the TV, ruthlessly disregarding those with any mention of babies, childbirth or pregnancy and the other Sarah hides behind her until the coast is clear. Still with the current media's utter fascination with babies and celebrity pregnancies, you can't always guess what will be on a programme or even in an article.

Every now and then, the scared Sarah pokes her head above the precipice and generally is doing ok. A bit shaky at times but becoming gradually stronger. There can be (and need to be) blows like seeing a friend's scan photo on Facebook or knowing that a colleague has her 12 week scan coming up. I should have been having those last week. With the other three pregnancies, I didn't get as far as the doctors but with the fourth, I did. Holy moly, was that a stressful day! As a part of those weird superstitions that I mentioned before, I was scared of going to the doctor as with the third, I had booked an appointment but ended up miscarrying two days before and was asked to come in for aftercare. Well, I made it! Despite the constant loo trips to check for blood (quadrupled that day), I made my appointment and was sent away with the words from a lovely doctor who has treated my family before, that he would pray for me.

There is always a moment of shock from the various healthcare providers that I have seen. That moment when they ask you how many pregnancies you have had. The next question is how many children you have and every single one has recoiled in horror at my response of, "Four pregnancies. No children." I think I have become a little numb to it although every now and then I become irritated by things that I read or watch.

As a point of checking every single thing that was happening to me during pregnancy number 4, I joined a forum- one of the many with variations of mothers and internet in its name. Whilst on the early pregnancy forum, there were the newbies to pregnancy, the people for whom it's exciting and miscarriage happens to other people, the crazy checkers like me and some for whom the pregnancy was not wanted. I could not believe some of the things those poor people were told by other people on the forums. Whilst to me, a baby would be the most amazing thing on this planet (apart from the fact I did just see my fat cat clear the sofa that Paul is currently asleep on, IN ONE LEAP!) for so many other people, it's the worst thing that can possibly happen to them. There were a lot of well-meaning, "oh you'll feel different when (delete as appropriate) you see the baby on the scan/ when you feel the baby moving/ when you hold the baby in your arms for the first time". These comments are so barbed to someone who isn't sure whether they want their baby.

I am pro choice. Always will be. Had I fallen pregnant at uni or during sixth form, I would have had an abortion even with knowing that there would be issues in the future. Knowing that getting qualifications would mean a way of supporting myself (and any future family) was what made me feel that way. It never came to that, thankfully but I was always very clear about it. It wasn't until recently that I found out how pro choice my mum is too. Whilst she was pregnant and showing with Robert, she was working as a nurse on the gynae ward where they carried out abortions. Apparently there was a girl who was having an abortion and said to her, "You must think I am a terrible person." and my mum replied that she didn't think anything of the sort about her, that pregnancies come at good and bad times and that you should always have a choice when they happen to you.

This is not something that I saw echoed on that particular forum. There were perhaps two of us that responded in a similar way to those posters who didn't want their pregnancies whilst everyone else assumed a sort of "mother as the martyr" role. I am horrendously liberal; a bleeding heart socialist as my dad describes but I am always taken aback by people going against what seems to me as goddamn commonsense!

There was a jealousy thing with those forums too- not those poor women but the women who already had three or four kids already and were pregnant again. I MEAN SWEET JEEBUS! I won't be going back to those forums for the reason that I will be going on an internet hiatus that will only include looking at baby walruses, Facebook or planning for work but also because of the crazy that they inspire in me. Of course, as much as a woman should be able to get rid of an unwanted pregnancy, she should also be able to have as many babies as she wants (although I get to see the other side of this, being a teacher, when they get a bit bigger and not as cute)- it's just damn unfair when you don't get what YOU want! I was asked by a colleague the other day, how many children I want. I can't really answer that as I would love a HUGE family but knowing how much heartache we've had so far, I would be happy with one (and a million puppies- preferably Bassett Hounds).

So enough of my tiptoeing around the internet. I am off to make Lemsip for Paul and myself as I am currently sounding like a man and Paul is snoring like a banshee.