PART 1: My Darkness.

I’ve written this blog over and over again in my head – I’ll even wake up in the middle of the night and think I really need to write this down…

So here I am.

Its been 6 months since my last blog – I was in a very emotionally drained place – walls were falling down around me and I haven’t felt a struggle like that in like well forever…

After a miscarriage towards the end of last year, going through personal hardship, my health completely broken down and ending up in hospital I had hit rock bottom. It was hard to see any positives and would quite so often find myself questioning “why me?” – I know life only gives us what we can handle and from every situation is a lesson but whilst going through such low times it really is hard to see anything besides the overwhelming sadness that fills your body.

If you are experiencing this – like so many of us do – I promise there is a light. Although it may be hard to see that right now I promise it does get easier, when everything feels like its falling down around you and you are drowning I promise you there is a light.

PART 2: My Light.

Now I can see it, looking back at all the bad I can see the light, as awful as things may have been I see the reasons this hand was dealt to me.

It forced me to look within, to question relationships and what was serving me and what was only bringing me down more – it made me focus on me.

Both physically and mentally – I know now it all starts with me.

IF I’m not looking after myself everything else crumbles – we are so quick to put others needs before our own, it’s just take, take, take and no give – this leaves a toll on you. Remember that – just like they say on the airplanes – fit your own mask before assisting others.

When I didn’t put my health first it only became worse – when I ignored my mental state it only became worse.

I see that now.

December 2018 I started feeling like my old self, eating well, training hard, feeling positive and vibrant – a cherry on the top was that my Ulcerative Colitis was now in remission – the thing that Dr’s believe may have been the reason a miscarriage occurred in the first place – I was no longer going to the toilet upwards of 20 times a day, having accidents, near misses, being drained of all energy and weighing a lot less then was I was meant to – I was like a normal person again, I forgot what it felt like to feel this energy and happiness.

This remission would not have come about if I was not put in hospital and referred to GOOD specialist Dr’s (I’ve only seen crappy ones in the past whom made me thought they were all like this so I’ll just go it alone) – a perfect example of a lessoned learnt.

If I had of not gone into remission and felt so vibrant, fit and healthy I would have not fallen pregnant again… more on this in the next blog.

Life has funny ways, always testing and surprising us wether we are ready or not – don’t let it engulf you, take each day as it comes, focus on YOU.

Find the light because I promise it’s there.

Stay Strong & Stretch,
Tel X

Here I am 3am 21^stJuly, tears uncontrollably steaming down my face.

Why us?

We are a young, fit, healthy people.

Could I have done anything differently? Is it my fault? Why couldn’t we keep you? Why does it hurt so much?

28 years old and I know miscarriage is something that happens but I’ve never knew it’s something I would have to deal with.

Yesterday we went in at 1pm to see you for the very first time, we had been keeping track of what you looked like via google although not much like a baby just yet you were definitely starting to form and were the size of a blueberry, we had been calling you Little Blueberry Prince all week. We were so fucking excited to see our little blueberry – to see a heartbeat and know everything was okay in there, that I was giving you a good little home until March.

It was supposed to be a happy day, we were so uncontrollably happy!

Laying on the ultrasound bed the man asks us if it’s our first and jokingly tell us to enjoy our time as we are about to get very busy.

Then his humour sense changed, he asked me when then first day of my last period was – which I knew – I was logging everything. He said there was a pregnancy but measuring 2 weeks behind where it should be and then basically “come back in 2-3 weeks, sorry there is anything we could see today, goodbye”

No conversation of how big the baby should be, what the fuck is going on or what the fuck to do.

We said we were first time parents – you can obviously see how confused we are – give us something – anything.

We left the ultrasound clinic quiet. I was emotional. I cried the whole way home from Werribee, this isn’t right, it was supposed to be a happy day we were getting photos of Little Prince to surprise my Mum, we were supposed to see a heartbeat then celebrate and get burritos, I’d planned to have the night off work to celebrate finally being able to see a heartbeat and labelling this as real.

Now I’m sitting here feeling sad, with a hot water bottle on my belly to help with the intense cramping and toilet paper down my pants because I couldn’t leave the house to buy pads last night. I’m broken.

Since finding out about this pregnancy my mind had always reverted back to miscarriage, I was nervous about it, looking up online what the percentage was of it happening, Matt reassured me we’ll be fine but I was holding off excitement until I saw Little Prince inside of me. I thought I was just being super paranoid, you know thinking of the worst-case scenario. In saying this I still was looking at prams and have a whole Pintrest album dedicated to maternity clothes, what to buy, info to know and nursery inspirations. I started to let my guard down at 6-7 weeks, excitement was in full swing and my Pintrest board was growing at a rapid rate.

Once we got home from the Ultrasound clinic Matt & I had a lay down in bed – trying to convince ourselves that maybe that ultrasound was fine and we have the dates a little muddled.  Laying there both feeling down, yet trying to stay optimistic we both fell asleep – I had mild stomach cramps but I thought it might have been UC cramping or I was just hungry because it was about 2pm and I hadn’t eaten lunch yet not what was about to come next.

The cramping got progressively worse and different to UC – I got up to go to the toilet and there it was blood, large amounts of clotted blood, I broke down instantly.

This was it.

We had lost our baby.

The same place I found out about you, the same place I found out we lost you.

Wildly checking each clot to see if a tiny Little Blueberry Prince could be seen.

I get off the toilet pull myself together as much as I could, I now have to break it to Matt, fuck this isn’t fucking fair.

In the hallway he hugs me – I really break down now – we really breakdown now – so defeated we go back to the bedroom and lay there in silence just holding each other. There were no words for it.

What do you even say? I felt worse for the few people we had told whom were also so excited for us today we now have to tell them what has happened – I don’t deal with sympathy well.

What do you even do?? Do I let it run its course? Go to the Dr? I had to use Google to find out – no one tells you this stuff, this is all new ground and we have no idea what the fuck was going on, all we knew is that we had zero control over what was happening right now and that is something we find hard to deal with.

Mum messaged me – “Hey you home?” I didn’t want to see anyone but if there was one person I wanted to see and tell then and there it was her, Mum’s intuition huh coming around at the most perfect time to pick us up when we were at our most vulnerable.

She walked through the door and I just broke down again, she was concerned she hadn’t known about anything – we were waiting for the photos we were supposed to get today.

I got the words out about what had happened, she hugged me harder.

She always knows what to do and say. We both felt better having her around and hearing her advice on what to do next and even have her distract us for a bit.

She suggested to go back to the Dr, explain what has happened and she’ll give you the next step wether to let it run its course or if you go in for an operation to clear everything out properly.

After dinner she left, both Matt and I had zero energy. The day couldn’t of gone any worse.

The cramping intensified, it was really bad now, I had to lay on the floor in the foetal position, going through the emotional roller coaster apparently wasn’t enough, lets add pain so bad it’ll leave you with no choice but to curl in a ball and cry hoping that it’ll all pass soon.

Trying to remain in somewhat of an optimistic headspace I thought to myself – ‘I can’t lay here like this, just get up, what are you doing? Look at you on the floor, get up, you’ve got this.’

And I just couldn’t – I was bet.

As the pain grew more and more I was force to work up the courage to attempt different yoga positions to help ease the pain a little bit which actually did work – it worked enough I was able to stand up and walk myself back down to the lounge room and take some more Nurofen. Matt got me a hot water bottle which also helped ease the pain – he is so amazing.

We spent the next couple hours laying on the couch watching shitty TV to distract us from an absolute horrible and unfair day. We’d occasionally get words out like “we’ll be okay” and “I love you” but overall it was just hugging supportive silence.

9:30pm Matt put fresh hot water in my hot water bottle and off to bed we went.

I couldn’t lay there in the dark, my mind would just tick – we put a movie on again to distract us from what was a blurred and surreal reality until we finally fell asleep holding each others hand. We didn’t have to say anything we just knew that having the comfort and support of one another was all we needed.

And now I’m here – sitting in the dark unable to sleep I needed to get everything down in words so it would stop playing over, again and again in my head – it is now 3:51am.

I think to myself, how am I supposed to face everyone tomorrow, even the next day and pretend to be happy? They have no idea how much I’m hurting inside – no idea about what rollercoaster that had just occurred and I just show up and pretend everything is okay? Like nothing happened? Just continue on with my life?

Maybe that’s what’s wrong? We don’t talk about these things; we deal with them in silence knowing eventually time will heal all.

Not only was this a complete shock and new experience for us but we had no idea what to do – there is no guidance, no where to go and procedure to follow.

We felt so alone even tho I know miscarriage happens to every 1 in 4 women. (Thanks to Google)

If it is a relatively common occurrence why aren’t more people talking about it?

What do all the other women do? Feel isolate, alone and hollow just like me?

Expected just to get back to normal life? Not talk about it?

If this has happened to you, you are not alone – I don’t know why the universe does these things, it is unfair to feel so many emotions in such little time – extreme highs to extreme lows.

As Matt kept saying at least we know we can fall pregnant. When the time is right we will try again, not without worry, caution or concern but as long as we have each other we know we will be okay.

I’m hoping that in reading this you will be aware, know that support is out there don’t be afraid to reach out for it, people don’t know what they don’t know, it doesn’t have to be kept a secret because 1 in 4 chances are the people you are hiding it from have gone through the exact same situation and can give you the support and guidance you need.

You just need to know:

You aren’t alone, this isn’t your fault, and you will get back up but for now feel the emotions that are running through you, do not pass them off and sweep them under the rug, feel them whole heartedly it is okay to hurt.

Stay Strong & Stretch,
Tel X

Since the day I could walk I would be out in the sun completely frying my skin at every chance I could in Summer – I was that 12 year old with white hair and a killah tan.

As I grew older nothing changed besides the fact I was forced to grow up and get a 9-5, which meant pretty much zero sun exposure (boooo!!!)

So before every holiday I would go to the soli (solarium) to tan up before I went away – it was 12 minutes of absolute bliss – relaxing in a nice warm enclosure that made you tanned. We all know life is better with a tan right?

Fast forward 3 years where soli’s are no longer an option (unless I want to pay a ridiculous price and do something slightly illegal)

And my skin now has more freckles then a chocolate freckle itself – I would always get told to put sunscreen on followed with the threat ‘you’ll have bad skin when you older’ and unfortunately they were right.

All the threats of getting dots, spots, dry skin and pre-mature aging they were bloody right!!

I saw a ‘spot’ doctor about 10 years ago – I got the all clear then but haven’t been back since… until yesterday.

I was nervous and convinced I had some sort of skin cancer.

After a very awkward close search over my body with a magnify glass thingy I got the all clear from any dangerous moles (YAY!) – yet I still had 5 raised ones removed.

3 on my back, 1 on my underarm and 1 on my face – the procedure was pain free as I was given a local aesthetic in each spot. It was done using radiotherapy and it basically smelt like I was on fire the whole time. So now I’m left with 5 burn like open wounds in which I need to keep covered and clean with a topically ointment.

The risk of scarring is super small if you look after the wounds while they heal and well I’d much rather some small scarring rather then being told I had some suspicious looking moles.

So while I’m walking around with a band-aid on my face know its not because I’m trying to look like Nelly – I’m not that cool – I’m just healing!

*If you can’t remember the last time you saw a ‘Spot Dr.’ that means it’s time to book an appionment…

Stay Strong & Stretch,
Tel X