Although this pregnancy was physically easier than my previous pregnancy, at seven weeks gestation an ultrasound revealed a blood clot in my uterus. The medical diagnosis was called a uterine vein thrombosis and as there was no history of blood clots and following the death of Louis, we were referred to a haematologist in Echuca.
Dr Matt Eddy was a lovely man, who handled our case with delicacy and care. He asked questions about my treatment and if there had been any trauma pre-pregnancy – which led to the disclosure of my miscarriage in November 2023. I exclaimed that I had felt some pain during the passing and then had become pregnant with Louis almost immediately.
Dr Eddy stated that at current the blood clot was a ‘one off’ and I could continue to live on as normal, but unfortunately once a blood clot does occur the percentage immediately increases for reoccurrence.
Due to lack of evidence and current research, Dr Eddy could only ‘suggest’ the blood clot occurred in the first place due to trauma caused by the miscarriage.
What followed was a discussion of three unconfirmed cases, all similar to mine, occurring in the past 18-months, all women who had suffered through miscarriage.
The appointment was both enlightening and disappointing, but I hope our case can help determine a preventative measure for any women who follow moving forward. Maybe enough evidence to precaution further ultrasounds post miscarriage to ensure proper healing has occurred – If for anything, reassurance before conceiving again.
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My phone rang – No Caller ID – most likely the hospital. The lady on the other end of the phone introduced herself as one of the reception staff from the pregnancy clinic, I honestly can’t remember her name and I honestly didn’t care. She followed with, ‘Maddy, the clinic will actually be closed the day of your appointment, therefore we need to reschedule.’
I didn’t respond, and she continued, ‘Maddy the doctor will be in on Thursday, November 7, would you be available that day to rebook?’
I was pissed! And finally replied. ‘Yes, I am available on Thursday, but honestly I need to call my husband as he had arranged to have the Monday off and now, he will need to apply for another day of annual leave.’ The lady asked if I wanted to call her back after confirming with Dave, but I declined and bluntly replied, ‘look this has taken months to book in, we are off to Adelaide the week after and enough is enough, don’t call me again to change the date, this is it ok?’
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Following the phone call from the clinic, I received a call from the lovely Annie from the Cemetery Trust. Now with all due respect to volunteers and the time they give up for the community, I had asked that Annie call when she received a date for the placement of Louis’ plaque at the cemetery. She however was calling to inform us that the plaque had been put in place earlier that day and she wanted to know when we were planning on organising the butterfly release for the final placement. She also informed me that the grave digger was due to go on holidays mid-November – Great.
This gave us just over a week to get organised, or Louis’ final placement may be delayed into December.
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Unfortunately, the joys of living in a small community of people was no secret was safe. Therefore, once I pulled my car into another local childcare centre, I knew word would travel fast and I wanted to stay in front of it – gossip’s a curse.
The interview was pretty straight forward and the director was lovely. She walked me through all the rooms and gave me an overview of standard procedure, but the highlight was both when she informed me that I would be positioned in the toddler room and when I locked eyes with my beautiful friend and old co-worker, Taylor.
She too had transferred across from Nathalia after the birth of her firstborn and she had been there ever since – one can only hope his would be my forever story too.
Once returning home I put together my resignation letter, I kept it short and sweet and stated the facts. Charlie and I would not be returning next year.
I headed in early to both pick up Charlie and deliver my resignation face-to-face to the place I had called home for the past four years. While the directors were currently in a meeting, I decided to let one of the girls know who was headed home early – I didn’t want her to hear it from anyone else! But then another staff member overheard and stated with the door open ‘you’re not coming back next year?’ Like I said, small community gossip.
But it was breaking the news to an educator who had been with Charlie from his very first day in care that hurt, and the tears started and they didn’t stop.
A co-worker who had been a mother figure to us all comforted me when the words became trapped, she jumped up from where she was sitting, ‘What’s the matter? Come on now, you’re ok!’ She understood completely why we were making the change and assured me ‘It’s for the best.’
My communication continued through several others, all who expressed they would be sad to see me go, but again understood, before finally it was time to officially resign.
Flustered, I very rudely asked if they had a second, to which they hesitantly obliged and I followed them into the office.
Still blubbering and Charlie in my arms, I choked out the words ‘Charlie and I won’t be returning next year.’ They read my letter and we walked out the door.
'Our Little Louis' 