As I looked around at my family swimming in the crystal clear waters of the Adriatic, framed by mountains and the beautiful old town of Korcula, I could not stop smiling.

My seven-month-old baby was in my partner James’s arms, splashing his chubby hands in the sea, my two-year-old was bobbing about. 

We had spent the last four months travelling through Cyprus, Greece and Croatia – I felt a relaxed happiness and more like myself than I had in about five years.

It was back then, in 2017, that we fell pregnant, but then we miscarried at 13 weeks; it was just such an unknown.

I felt this tight knot in my chest, which would not go, and we then went on to have two more miscarriages.

Each miscarriage we had was traumatic but the first was incredibly emotional.

We had only been together for two years at that point and the baby was not planned, but as soon as I told James, he was excited and I knew he would be an amazing parent. 

We had told our family and some of our friends, and were starting to think about where we would move to – as we were living on a London canal boat at the time. 

I had a small bump and felt extremely protective and happy about the baby. We went for the scan, excitedly waiting to be called. 

She carried out an external ultrasound and after a minute of checking me, she turned the screen from us to herself and advised we needed an internal check. 

I immediately felt an emptiness and felt like I needed to leave the hospital.

I remember thinking afterwards about how I must have looked being led to the early foetal medicine unit in tears, through the waiting room of expectant parents. 

James had been holding my hand and saying that ‘it was ok’ – but for me it wasn’t and it was far from over. 

The baby’s heartbeat had stopped at about 11 or 12 weeks.

We had not heard the term ‘silent miscarriage’ before; I’d always thought that if there was a problem, I would know immediately. 

I can remember every word that was said at that appointment five years ago. I can remember the doctor’s name and the fluorescent lights. Yet at the time I wasn’t present, I just wanted to leave and be by myself. 

Going from being pregnant to not being pregnant is more than physical – after 13 weeks of pregnancy we had formulated plans and ideas for the future. 

It is something that is really difficult to discard – we were upending our lives and preparing and then suddenly it was over.

We told ourselves that we had just been unlucky and that the next time would be different. 

We waited three months and tried again but unfortunately we miscarried at 10 weeks. It was especially hard because, as we were scan wary, we had gone to the early pregnancy unit and seen a heartbeat at seven weeks – were so excited. 

Because I was extremely anxious, I went again at 10 weeks, which is where we were told that there was no heartbeat. 

You don’t receive any diagnostic treatment until you have three recurrent miscarriages, so we were told to try for a baby again. 

We waited for four months before falling pregnant for a third time –  but we were told there was no heartbeat at 11 weeks.

Blood tests were ordered to try and understand why this kept happening, but everything came back showing normal levels.

The miscarriages were labelled as ‘unexplained’, which brought relief and hope, but also confusion and guilt. I couldn’t help whether the losses were the result of something I had done.

My life stood still during this time as I didn’t want to commit to future plans just in case I became pregnant. 

I decided I would grieve our losses once I had my baby and, shutting myself off, just didn’t talk about it.

James was always supportive and optimistic; I wanted him to be negative and say that it was never going to work ever and join me in my pessimism but he never did, he always just said it would happen. 

I felt physically unwell after three miscarriages in the space of two years. 

I was anxious and miserable about not being able to do something that I felt should be so natural. I had tried pregnancy diets and workouts, herbal remedies, but nothing worked. 

We waited six months before our fourth pregnancy; we saw his heartbeat at seven weeks but due to previous experience I told no one.

We saw a heartbeat again at 10 weeks and then at 12 weeks. 

I still remember myself and James walking out of the waiting room – we were just laughing and holding the sonogram. We had waited for so long to have our own little printed out scan picture.

It was a stressful pregnancy – I’d go to the maternity triage for any little pain I felt. I told myself once the baby was here, I would deal with the anxiety.

At all stages of my pregnancy I could not accept that we would get to the next week, expecting the sonographer to advise that there was no heartbeat. 

Audie’s birth was difficult and ended in an emergency caesarean section and sepsis. 

For the first few days of his life, doctors advised us that his situation was precarious as the lumbar puncture revealed he had a serious infection. 

During his birth I constantly needed to hear Audie’s heartbeat and when the doctor told us the infection was bad, I thought our happiness was over – that it had all been a mistake that I had got this far. 

Thankfully, Audie recovered remarkably quickly and we went home after 10 days. I held onto the worry and fear of that time in hospital and the trauma from the miscarriages and it shaped my parenting.

I barely slept for the first six months as I had to obsessively check he was breathing every 20 minutes. If I slept longer than that I would wake up with such dread, fearing the worst.

I pureed everything for months longer than needed in fear of him choking. If he showed the signs of even a minor cold, I would take him to the paediatric A&E.

On the outside, I was happy, functioning and my usual self but on the inside, I was bubbling with anxiety – an anxiety I had never felt prior to my miscarriages.

James and I had always wanted to grow our family, so I became pregnant with our second baby when Audie had just turned one. The pregnancy dread was instant and waiting for seven weeks before getting a scan was agonising.  

I went to the first scan alone as I had decided I didn’t want to put James through a second batch of miscarriages – that if it happened again, I just would deal with it by myself. We were so happy with Audie that I didn’t want to bring the sadness back into our lives. 

Thankfully, all went well and nine months later we had Inigo. 

But I was still plagued by worry. The price of our London flat meant we were financially insecure, our outgoings for rent and nursery would soon be much higher than our salaries coming in. I was still frantically checking on my babies to make sure they were alive and well. 

I felt like everything was going too quickly and that I wasn’t in control. The trauma and anxiety had meant James and I hadn’t been able to reconnect as a couple. We needed time together with our new family.

Instead of spinning plates trying to manage everything, I decided to give in to the chaos. We researched month-long stays in Europe for less than half the price of our rent and decided to give it a go and use the year long maternity leave.

It started to make immediate sense: No nursery costs; we were in the privileged position of a year of maternity leave; we had some savings to enable James to have time out of work; family were around to help look after our belongings.

James left his job, we left our flat, sold all our furniture, left Audie’s nursery, booked our first month away and decided on two backpacks to take for a family of four – all of this had to be planned while looking after a newborn and recovering from a C-section. 

Our first stop was Cyprus. We travelled by plane, which was our first time on a plane as parents. We were completely unprepared for how cold Cyprus is in March and had travelled light.

Packing for a three month old for a year trip is difficult as they grow so quickly – we jokingly said he had grown out of his top by the time the plane landed. 

At the start of our travels, Audie was happy but he didn’t sleep through the night for about two weeks. It had been a huge life upheaval but we were together and even on the days where everyone had a few tantrums, I went to bed happier than the day before.

It wasn’t until we arrived in Alonissos a month later, a Greek island known for monk seals and marine life that we began talking about what we had gone through as a couple to become parents. 

We realised that we had never actually spoken about how we felt about the miscarriages we’d experienced. 

James was worried about upsetting me by bringing it up and I was not ready to discuss just how much it had affected us as a couple over the years – it was all encompassing, we felt powerless and both felt as though we weren’t there enough for each other. 

Having had this conversation, we now feel stronger together.

And having time away has meant we have had time together, unhurried and without the distractions of ‘normal life’, as well as a different environment.

There are challenges travelling with very young children – the days of actual travel are tiring but everything is an adventure for the children. We are on a small budget, which means we sometimes have to compromise on our holiday homes, choosing between an extra bedroom or a washing machine.

I thought I would end up buying loads of clothes when I looked at my small pile before leaving, but actually I really haven’t even thought about it. I wear pretty much the same thing everyday and have never felt more comfortable in what I’m wearing. 

We chose small toys for Audie to bring with us, as well as his favourite teddies; we stuffed as many as we could fit into his small suitcase. We have read the four books we brought with us for him every other night and I can now recite them from memory.

We have weaned, toilet trained and attempted to no longer co sleep with a seven-month-old who is partial to a double bed.

People often say our kids won’t remember this and while that may be true, we will forever remember Audie wheeling his cars around the Acropolis and learning to swim in the Aegean, and breastfeeding Inigo on the city walls of Dubrovnik and hearing his first babbles on the beach.

Maternity leave will end but we have a while yet and lots more countries to explore. We are forming a plan for how we want to continue to live differently going forward. 

When I return to work, we could end up travelling at a slower pace around the UK, living in different spaces – we have also looked at campervans to carry on this way of living.

However, most importantly, focusing on what makes us happy as a family.

Do you have a story you’d like to share? Get in touch by emailing [email protected]. 

Share your views in the comments below.

Source: Read Full Article