2024 has got a tough start: I just lost my first pregnancy by the end of 2023, tried again and lost another one shortly after that, right in the middle of Jan 2024. But all the losses have not been in vein, I guess, because in weathering through it all, both my life and my PhD have taken new turns and I managed to end 2024 in a much higher note than when it started.
In this post, I will recount things I have done to help me and my partner through difficult times. I hope that our experiences can be of value to someone who might also go through similar situations. (My heart goes out for you if that is the case.) But I also want you to know that not everything works or doesn’t work for everyone. Losing a pregnancy is heartbreaking and what is most important is giving yourself the time and space you need to heal, physically and mentally. I guess what I want from writing this piece, therefore, is to let you know which sources of support are available to you if you are also like me, reading for your PhD in the UK as an international student.
The NHS hospital
I remember the day the news was delivered to me during our planned checkup at the 10-week mark. The baby at that time was still inside my uterus but his heart was no longer beating—meaning I had a missed miscarriage. Devastated was not enough to describe what we felt. On top of that, the nurse who confirmed the news spoke in such a nonchalant and devil-may-care manner, telling us the available options like a waitress reading out chef’s specials. I’m sure she meant well, but her attitude showed us there was a philosophical mismatch in how we perceived a pregnancy loss: to us, we’ve just suddenly lost a member of our family; to her, we’re the 75% of all her patients, so no surprise there1. Nonetheless, it made us feel so bad at the time that I asked to speak to someone else. It was also one of the main reasons that I stopped seeking mental support from the hospital.
The physical care I was given at the hospital, on the other hand, was a pleasant experience. I was informed of my choices: waiting for the tissue to pass out naturally (expectant management), having medicinal intervention to aid with the process (medicine), or having an invasive physical intervention to end the pregnancy immediately (surgery)2. I chose expectant management because I still needed time to process my loss and hoped that my body would know what to do, but in cases where complications occurred I might not have the luxury to wait. Luckily, the tissue passed out 4 days after that when I was at home, and when I went for a checkup 10 days after that, my uterus was already clean and clear. I was then asked to rest and to contact the hospital if the bleeding did not stop after 2 weeks. Throughout the process I felt like I was always well-informed and welcome to ask any questions, so it was the highlight of this whole hospital experience.
The university counselling service
Because of the nurse at the hospital, I decided to try counselling at the university for an extra layer of mental support. This service is free for all staff and students, but you do have to book in advance and might have to wait for several weeks before you can speak to someone3. To be honest, I didn’t feel like I really needed this, but (1) I have been struggling at getting back to my studies, (2) I never talked to a counsellor before and always heard wonderful things about the benefits of counselling, so I gave it a go. My counsellor was very understanding and empathetic with my bad experience with the nurse, but after the first session, I decided that it would also be my last. Counselling is not for me. I am not comfortable talking to a stranger, and there wasn’t anything she told me that I didn’t already know, especially after weeks of self-reflection and contemplation. My counsellor knew that too, so she concluded my case.
I know that counselling might be very helpful to someone else. It just didn’t work out for me this time. Still, I appreciate that such support is free and accessible to university staff and students, so it’s always worth checking out.
The supervisory team
One of the weirdest things about my situation with the supervisory team was that they were not informed of my pregnancy, but were one of the first people to know about my miscarriage. Right after I went home from the hospital, I wrote to them because I could anticipate that this was going to take a long time for me to recover, physically and mentally. At that moment, I felt like I really needed their support to get through this, and I was lucky to have a very empathetic and supportive supervisory team. To put this into context, I just finished my confirmation review at the end of the first year, and it has been an extremely difficult first year for me personally, in which the question of whether I should continue with my studies or not was constantly raised. My supervisory team knew this, so they went out of their way to accommodate my needs at the time, recommended me to the counselling service, and really tried to be a friend. I was given some time off, without which I wouldn’t have been able to pull myself together and push through the next year.
The relationship with our supervisory team can sometimes be complicated and its dynamic changing depending on where we are on the PhD journey. But I think it is helpful to remind ourselves that our supervisors are human too, and it is in their best interest that we maintain our wellbeing throughout the process.
Family and loved ones
I couldn’t have made it through without the support of those around me, especially my partner. It has been the most challenging year of our newly married life, but grieving our babies has brought us together in ways that are unimaginable. From two individuals who wanted different things, we now realised we both needed the same things. We created the time and space for each other to heal, together and individually.
Mindfulness, self-reflection and everything in between
I know this could sound cliche, but what really lifted me up from this misery was the realisation that challenges are not meant to bring us down. They’re meant to help us learn and grow as a human. I would not say I was grateful for this experience—I’d much rather not have it if I had a choice. But I would say I was humbled. I have also taken this as an opportunity to review our lifestyle and diet so we can be better prepared for our future babies.
One of the things that bothered us greatly was deciding what to do with our little foetuses. As migrants without a fixed address in a faraway land, we found it difficult to fathom leaving our babies in a cold strange place all by themselves. After researching our options, my partner and I decided we would bury them under succulent plants in home plant pots so we could bring them with us when we moved house. It was an unusual choice and could spook some people but it is feasible4 and befitting our lifestyle and personalities. Spoiler: the succulent plant died in less than a month. Yet we are now assured that we have our babies right beside us all the time. If this might be something of interest to you, I’d suggest reading up on others’ experiences before making up your mind and equipping yourself with some gardening skills. 🙂
And that’s a wrap!
References
1 https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/miscarriage/causes/
2 https://www.nhs.uk/conditions/miscarriage/what-happens/
3 https://students.brunel.ac.uk/support/counselling-services
4 https://community.whattoexpect.com/forums/miscarriage-support/topic/burying-my-baby-93130768.html
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