The verdict

I didn't realise how nervous I was about the results of my pregnancy loss tests until I was actually in the waiting room yesterday. I had been telling people all week that I don't know what is better, to hear that there is something (very easily fixable) wrong and we will do this, this and this to fix you asap, or to hear that there is nothing wrong so we can't help you. Then when I was sitting trying to read a book with trembling hands and thoughts zooming at a million miles, waiting for the professor to call my name, I had sudden clarity: it is so much better to hear that there is nothing wrong. Silly to think otherwise, really.

Luckily, after a pretty short wait and a brief reading of my results (which felt like an eternity), the professor said in his quiet, deliberate, monotone way 'The tests show that there is no medical reason to expect that you will not have the family that you desire, sooner rather than later.'.

That means everything is ok, right?

After quite a few more drill-down-to-specifics kinda questions from me he came just a tad short of saying 'just go home and make a baby, lady'. He said that my antibody and hormone levels were 'normal' and whilst he can not tell me that he is 100% confident that our next conception will result in a real live baby, we are entering in to it with the same odds as the rest of the population (approx 3:4).

Good news, right? Then why did I not stop crying for a long time once I made it to the privacy of my car?

I realised that these tests for me were as much a snapshot into what to expect in the future as they were an insight into our recent pregnancy losses. So I cried for Turtledove who was to be born in the next fortnight. And I cried for Muscles who we were so hopeful for. I cried with relief because the results did not say that that my body had actually caused a healthy baby to be miscarried. And I cried because chances are they were just not perfect enough to be born.

Our bodies are amazing the way they know that this potential child is just not healthy enough for this world. But I still cried, because as genetically imperfect as they were, I would have loved them anyway. I would have.