The 0.15%

I'm not a brave person. I avoid anything that might bring even the most temporary of unpleasantnesses to my life, where I can. I've never been on a rollercoaster, I don't like horror films and I stopped drinking because I can't stand hangovers. Anything for an easy life, me.

So when we decided to try to have a baby, that was kind of a big deal. I know a few women who suffered very badly with morning sickness and feeling terrible. But hey, you get a baby at the end, so it's ALL WORTH IT. Right? Right.

Early December 2011 - positive pregnancy test! Happy days, happy days.

These are the questions that ran through my mind - when will it be born? Will it be a boy or a girl? Will it look like me or it's dad? How tired does *that* tired feel like?

But then...being as risk averse as I am, plenty of research had gone into this decision. So I knew that one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage (or is it one in four women who get pregnant have a miscarriage? Unclear, but hey, it's LOTS). There are early miscarriages, missed miscarriages, late miscarriages and so on. I read up on what they feel like, how you know it is happening to you. I felt prepared. I'd been taking folic acid for weeks. I joined a "Due in August" ante-natal thread on Mumsnet. This was it.

I had symptoms that are those of early pregnancy and I did three tests in total all positive.

I was aware that you could get a private dating scan but I thought I'd wait a while, make sure things were settling down before splashing out on the fee. Money was tight just before Xmas and if things were going to go wrong, what was the point in paying at this early stage? So I sat tight, all seemed ok and so I decided to book an early scan for Saturday 14 January just to make sure everything was ok.

You say this, and you think about the possible bad outcomes of everything not being ok. But in reality, nothing can prepare you for it. Because deep down, you really really want everything to be ok. And I'd pretty much done everything "right". Don't smoke, don't drink, don't take drugs and eat well.

Get to the private hospital where an amusing incident proved that people are the same everywhere you go, money's got nothing to do with it. The appointment had been booked for the wrong time so we had to go and come back an hour later.

Return we do, after about two questions - name and date of birth, I hop up on the bed thing, roll up my top and we get scanning...

I look at the screen...is that a head?
The midwife asks if I've been feeling particularly sick. Nope, not really. And why are we having chitchat? I want to look at a spine and tiny limbs!

She said, "I'm very sorry, but this is a molar pregnancy".

And that's it. My life, my partner's life, my family's life, is changed forever.

Ten minutes later we're out of there but not before a fax and phonecall is made to Southmead hospital telling them I'll be in first thing on Monday to be booked in for a D&C. The consultant gynaecologist there came to see us. Fortunately he is on duty so he's met me, and added me to his list for Monday, or maybe first thing Tuesday. Consultants are good. The midwife explained I will be contacted by a clinic in London, printed off pictures of my insides with information to take to hospital and off we go.

Best £99 we ever spent.

At first I felt ok. Ok, this happens, I'll have an operation it'll be over and then we can think again.

My main fear, initially was the surgery. I've never had an operation before. I am scared of hospitals. I am scared of having surgery on my private parts. I am terrified of the pain I will experience afterwards.

Then I switched on the laptop.

A complete molar pregnancy, which is what I have, means there was never an embryo, just rapidly growing placental tissue and accompanying hormones mimicking pregnancy. Making a fool of me. Making a liar of me. And I don't tell lies.

And then, and then, there are the statistics. 0.15% of pregnancies will be molar (of women who get pregnant. Stupid statistics). And so, if I'm unlucky enough to be one of those women maybe I'll be unlucky enough to be one of the 15% who experience this:

After the D&C operation to clear out the uterus, you are contacted by your regional molar pregnancy centre who will monitor your levels of bHCG hormones. This has to drop to an acceptable level over six or so months. They send you sample kits and you have to post them your urine every fortnight. Sometimes blood tests at your Drs too. If the levels don't drop, it means they then have to make them drop. By giving you chemotherapy. Because the cells behave like cancer.

It's all a bit too much to take in really.

I feel angry, devastated, lost.

A while back, before I was even pregnant I read an article about people not wanting August babies because they don't cope as well at school. These people paused trying for a baby during November to assure any future offspring would have the best possible chances, academically. Even then that made me cry. How lovely it must be to be so assured of your fertility. I will not be having an academically sub-standard baby in August.

My mum also said "everything happens for a reason" but it doesn't, does it? What possible reason could there be for half the nasty, cruel, unpleasant things that happen to us? There's no reason for this. It's bad luck. The worst.