Indeed, after three miscarriages, two post-miscarriage hemorrhage complications and subsequent uterine artery embolization surgeries, all in the space of 18 months, we were coming to accept the fact that Remy and I may not be privy to the creation of life together. In the later half of last year, extensive medical testing found no medical reason for my recurring miscarriages, and as I was approaching my 40th birthday in January, we took the medical clearance with gratitude whilst acknowledging that perhaps we would never know what was preventing my ability to carry a baby past 8-9 weeks. With plans to visit my family in South Australia over Christmas for the first time in four years, we set aside ‘one last shot’ at baby making for post-holiday; we simply wanted to enjoy our trip back home and shift gears from pregnancy stress. And just like that, I fell pregnant with just a sniff from Remy, and by the time we landed in Adelaide for Christmas, I was carrying a healthily growing baby and, thanks to precautionary assistance from doses of baby aspirin and progesterone throughout the first trimester, it looked like this one was a keeper.
I spent the first four months sick with all-day-morning sickness, which only finally departed at the tail end of our summer holiday whilst we were in Bali on the way back to France in January. Ironically, as I was eating my way around Canggu with Remy, the boys got ‘Bali belly’ and spent most of our five days in Bali on their backs in bed or battling for the toilet bowl. By the time we returned to France a month ago, my energy returned, miscarriage fear and anxiety had begun to subside, and our four-month ultrasound revealed the best news we’ve had in years: we had created a healthy baby girl.
Pregnant in South Australia in January.
Due in July, we have been adjusting our year’s plans to shape around the arrival of our baby girl, and my parent's’ who will be visiting for almost two months around the time of the birth. We’ve extended the lease on our house - which was set to finish at the end of June - for a year, giving us plenty of time to welcome our baby and settle in to life with a newborn before embarking on the creation of our ambitious project, the Floating Stories Lab. Things have been exciting, and our return to France came with an ignition for the year ahead . Remy is launching his Supply Chain business, 7DataService, and I’ve embarked on a new 2D documentary project on decolonizing development, whilst also taking on an in-house Producer and Ethics Advisor role with Australian immersive tech studio, PHORIA. The kids are back at school and football training. Sage has been thrilled to have her family back (though she got WAY too comfortable at Remy’s parents’ house, sleeping with his dad every night) and her and I have spent every day walking in the forest, enjoying my second trimester boost of energy.
But then…boom. Last week, in the space of seven days, our world flipped upside down again. First, Hunter knocked himself out playing a friendly soccer match on an artificial turf in our local village. He came to, rode his bike home, then proceeded to vomit profusely, resulting in an emergency visit to hospital and several hours of observation. Thankfully, he was given the all-clear to go home without a brain scan, but with doctor’s orders to abstain from all sports for a month.
Second, Sage started to vomit after some of her meals, and suddenly stopped wanting to go for a walk. This was a serious change in her character, and a trip to the vet ensued. Sure enough, a stomach X-ray revealed she had developed gastritis, most likely from the generous amounts of over-oily and salty sardines that Remy had been adding to her food. Lesson learned. An injection, medicine, and no more salty sardines followed, and she bounced back to her normal self within two days.
Then on Saturday, just seven days after we’d rushed Hunter to hospital, I was sitting on Remy’s lap after having lunch at our place with his parents when I felt a warm trickle of fluid between my legs. Quietly, I took myself to the toilet, but by the time I got there I had blood flowing throughout my underwear. It was now my turn to be rushed to hospital. Just before we left the house, I sat down and practiced the deep calm breathing method I’d been revising ahead of the birth, a technique I’ve practiced in both my previous labors with the boys. I could feel the baby moving so felt she was not in danger, and thought it important to calm myself, and Remy, amidst the fear and chaos.
In hospital, I was taken for an emergency pelvic examination, ultrasound and intravaginal ultrasound, and sure enough, baby was OK, but my placenta has moved to the ‘low lying anterior’ position, residing very close to the cervix and thus becoming agitated whenever the uterus contracts (which it does so, normally) thus causing the bleed. In 9 out of 10 cases, the placenta should move north out of the way as the uterus grows during the rest of the second and throughout the third trimester. However, in rare cases, as one of my dearest friends experienced in her challenging pregnancy, the placenta can stay put down low. For those interested in this condition, also known as Placenta Previa, and the wonders of placenta migration, Remy discovered THIS article that we both found extremely informative (and quite humorous!).
I stayed in emergency maternity care at a world class clinic (at no cost to me, thanks to the French public health and social security system) for two nights and three days, receiving anti-spasmodic medication to help calm the uterus and thus stop the blood flow. Released on Monday, I am now home, yet resigned to strict pelvic rest aka modified bed rest until further notice. Having been through extreme difficulties with recurring miscarriage, I am thrilled that the baby is healthy and currently at no risk. I’m no stranger to bed rest, having had to spend weeks in bed following my miscarriages and surgeries, and I read a fantastic book called Wintering: The Power of Rest and Retreat in Difficult Times, by Katherine May, last year during one of my recovery periods that has helped strengthen my resolve to simply surrender to the necessity to create space for deep healing. It is not easy, I am an active person and I have already done a fair share of lying around in bed throughout this pregnancy. We have a house that needs to function, I’m working (thankfully, from home, and I can still do this from the couch and bed!), a dog that really loves her walks in the forest, and I now need the car to be left at home with me - though I’m not allowed to drive it UNLESS I am driving myself back to emergency, which, unfortunately, is a highly likely reality. As my midwives explained, if it bleeds red, back to hospital you go.
And whilst I am eternally grateful for my care providers and the fact maternity healthcare is completely free in France, the privilege is not lost on me. Many women around the world are not able to admit themselves to emergency care within 15 minutes, or if they can, they may not be able to afford it. I am deeply moved by those who tirelessly advocate for free universal maternity and pediatric care, and I believe we should all be doing more to ensure equity in the healthcare system around the world.
Likewise, I am concerned about the impact of environmental destruction and the alarming volumes of forever chemicals that industry has been polluting our planet with on reproductive health. I’ll share more as I unpack my own experience with maternity challenges some 11 and 13 years on from having two perfectly normal pregnancies and births with the boys.
Best,
Angie
