It’s been six weeks to the day since my miscarriage

No sign of my period. I had a day’s spotting some two weeks ago. I’ve been exhausted, grumpy.

So I tested.

It was positive.

I tested again the next day.

It was positive.

I left it a few days and went in to see my doctor.

“I’m pregnant,” I said.

“Congratulations. What are your dates?” she said, lifting her pen to write.

“I miscarried nearly six weeks ago,” I said, leafing through my diary.

“Impossible,” she said, putting down her pen, “you can’t be pregnant. Women don’t ovulate until a month after they’ve miscarried. Your HCG levels won’t have returned to normal since the miscarriage.”

“But the test was positive,” I said, “I’m definitely pregnant.”

“Take this, test again. I’ll see you in ten minutes,” she said as she handed me a pot without looking me in the eye, “it’s very unlikely that you’re pregnant.”

I peed in the pot and called DH.

“She says I’m not pregnant. Can you come and get me?”

He was there in five minutes.

Another five minutes passed and I’d had chance to think about the logic of what she’d said. By the time I was called back into the surgery, shock had turned to petulance.

“What you’re saying doesn’t make sense,” I said to the doctor as she dipped the pregnancy test, “when I miscarried my pregnancy test was so faint as to be almost negative, the hormone levels had dropped that low. How can they have returned to pregnancy levels six weeks after being at ground zero unless I was, I dunno, PREGNANT?”


“Well,” said the doctor, “the test is positive”.

She still didn’t looking me in the eye.

“Yes,” I said, “I came here to tell you that I was pregnant and I want to be referred to the ante natal unit,” I was out of breath now, gathering momentum, “I’ve never heard nor read that women only ever ovulate four weeks after miscarriage. I was told by two doctors at my scan to confirm the completion of my miscarriage, that it was likely I would ovulate in two weeks although it could be longer, that it’s different for everyone.”

I was angry.

She didn’t say anything and instead passed me another pregnancy test.

“Take this test again next week and then call me again.”

“Aren’t you going to refer me to the ante natal unit?” I said, shocked.

“Not yet, no.”

I walked out of her surgery and slammed the door, furious at how she’d neglected to take on board all the information before declaring that I wasn’t pregnant; furious at her bedside manner and how she wouldn’t even look me in the eye; furious at not being back in the ante natal system.

I’m pregnant and my doctor doesn’t fucking believe me.