The second thing that helped was the staff. The sonographer took the time to look me in the eye, her voice soft, and explain that I was the one in control. I could just touch her arm and she would pause. If anything hurt, we could stop. In that moment, I would have trusted her to open up my chest and clean my heart with her fingers. I knew she would look after me. There were many other brilliant members of the staff too, not least the person who printed out a sign, hanging on the back of the bathroom door, that said: “We have sanitary pads, wet wipes, spare leggings, underwear, and bags available in our clinic.” Just reading that, as I peed into a test tube, made my whole body soften. To offer clothes, underwear, pads, goes beyond simple kindness; they are acts of empathy, compassion, and recognition. These people knew what I was going through, and they knew what I needed.
I also had my friend with me. A friend who had miscarried herself, several times. A friend who knew the ropes; had lain on this exact blue plastic table; had sat in the same waiting room and looked out of the same window. My husband could have come, of course, but in that moment, she was my first choice. As I pulled on my knickers and collapsed crying onto her shoulder, I knew she was the person I wanted by my side. She held me like the mother that she is—held me and held me and held me.
This feeling of being understood, of my experience being recognized, and of being part of a long line of miscarriages has helped. Just hours after telling one friend that I was no longer pregnant, she turned up at my door with a pot of soup, a loaf of bread, a bunch of flowers, a card in which she had written out a poem, three novels, and some homemade buns. Other friends brought chocolate and offered to look after my son, delivered homemade curry, took me out for walks, and a woman I love sent me a card on which she had drawn exactly how my heart felt. A mother at the school gates made the effort to come over to me, take my arm, and tell me that she had been there, too. She told me to take an iron tablet. They knew. They all just knew.