I still remember the day of my first miscarriage - 3rd December 1998. It is etched onto my brain forever. It was a freezing, dark and overcast day and the sonographer told me that the tiny human being I could see on the screen, that was part of me, had no heart beat. Devastated wouldn't be strong enough a word to describe how I felt.
What made matters worse was the fact that when I asked for a picture of my baby - the only thing I could ever have in memory of my child, I was told rather curtly
'It isn't a baby, there's nothing there anymore.'
But it was my baby, not just a bunch of cells. The hospital refused to let me have a picture and we ended up making an official complaint against them. Now, because of my miscarriage, women who lose their babies are allowed scan pictures if they ask.
Recognise that grief is normal, even if you were only 6 weeks pregnant. Not only was that embryo your child, it was your hopes and dreams.
Find a close friend or family member you can discuss your feelings with, who is comfortable about talking about pregnancy loss. If you can't stand to hear of other women giving birth, tell your family not to inform you.
Talk to a counsellor at your pregnancy assessment clinic, or a pastor.
You could have a memorial service where you can say prayers, light candles or leave flowers for your baby. This helps a lot if you can't plan a funeral.
Write your feelings down in a journal.
Shout, scream into a pillow.
If you work, take some time off just for you, or go on a holiday. Don't feel guilty if you enjoy some moments, and remember, if you're not over it in a few weeks, that is normal.