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Waiting Room Anxiety & I.

Updated: Apr 3, 2022

I remember sitting in the waiting room at the MFM unit at the hospital when alarm bells were raised that something was wrong with Chayce. I was about 23ish weeks pregnant at this stage.

Every second we waited to be called in was complete and utter torture.

My hands were sweating profusely.

I was having hot flushes.

I couldn’t stop tapping my foot, and looking at the time every 30 seconds.

I’m sure I was annoying the crap out of everyone else waiting. I was conscious of it too, but I didn’t care.

I thought I was going to either pass out or be sick, or both at the same time.

I just needed to get in there and speak to the professionals. I had already been waiting 5 agonizing days just for this appointment.

I remember being so angry that they were making me sit there and wait when my whole world was crashing down. I had no idea what was wrong with my son at this point.

I had already googled every possible article, and nothing was giving me much hope.

I knew the Doctors were obviously attending to other patients but I couldn't help but feel so frustrated and so alone. Why wasn’t anybody rushing to help my son?

Why did nobody seem to care as much as we did?

Why isn't this classified as an emergency?

Why isn’t this urgency playing out like it does in the movies?

There was something wrong with our son, but we just had to wait and be patient.

I was borderline going crazy plus I hadn't slept.


As soon as I checked in at the reception, I'm sure the lady behind the desk gave me that look.

The look of “oh boy, you have no idea what’s about to happen.. do you?“ kind of look.

I’ll never know if I’m exaggerating or not but I swear she knew something was up, even before it was officially confirmed.

And I remember every single pregnant woman that walked in and out of that hospital ward that day and I wondered why nobody looked as terrified or as anxious as me. I wondered what their situation was. What brought them to MFM? Are their babies okay?


My thought process went like this..

Maybe there is hope that Chayce will be okay..

Maybe being sent to the MFM unit isn’t all bad news.

Maybe this is not the end of the road.

Maybe these babies will be fine, but are just being monitored.

Maybe that’s what will happen with Chayce. Maybe he just needs monitoring. Maybe it's going to be okay after all.

I told myself these things to get through the next 10-15 minutes of waiting.

I was also convinced there was two doors into this particular ward - The happy door and the sad door. I later found out I was right.

I was praying they would tell us to exit out of the happy door and that our story had a happy ending. I never excepted the news we left with though.


We were very much still clinging on to hope with both hands until the very last second.

Even when our medical team gave us the long list of things wrong with Chayce, I remember we still had hope.

We still thought maybe they could take care of him, they can do remarkable things these days.. Organ transplants, cancer treatment etc. Surely they can make our little man better?

But unfortunately, there was nothing they could do to guarantee his survival nor quality of life.

Now that I'm pregnant after our loss, going back to the exact same hospital, to the exact same ward, to the exact same team of medical professionals, even the exact same consulting rooms, is a whole new ball game.

Even just finding a car park at that hospital gets me agitated and my heart rate going.

Walking into those hospital doors, going up the elevator, checking it at the reception.

It's all very overwhelming and extremely triggering.

But I do it, one step after the other even though my entire body tenses up and I can barely think straight.


Sitting down in the same waiting room where we lost our son and hearing the newborns crying, just praying and wishing I could hear my son cry.

Watching all the other mums walk in and out, wondering what their story is - If they can relate to my pain or not.

And no matter how much further into this pregnancy I get and no matter how many times the doctors keep telling me everything is going well, that part of the hospital will forever remain engrained in my mind as the most traumatic event in my life and will take me back to all of the feelings, emotions and uncertainty I felt when we had to say goodbye to Chayce.


Even though I am so grateful that this bub is doing well and we have finally been discharged from the MFM unit. We still have to report to the same clinic, which uses the same rooms, just a different medical team.

Which is amazing progress and even better news, because the MFM is where you go when there are abnormalities in your baby or you are being monitored for a high risk pregnancy, so we are absolutely delighted to no longer require that specialist team of professionals anymore.


But nothing will help ease the emotions, when you go back to the very place that you left your angel.


Waiting room anxiety and I will always co-exist, no matter what I'm waiting for.


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1 Comment


Tayla this blog would have been extremely hard to type. You are having to relive the moments you where told about little Chayce. To walk into that department of the hospital, seeing the same staff members. BUT you and Mark have got this. Think positive thoughts about this new little pink bundle of joy. A little GIRL. She won’t replace Chayce but she will help you move into a different direction of your lives. The joy of hearing her cry, the joy of her first little smile, the joy of all those sleepless nights. Chayce may he be soaring high above. Flying high, watching over his mummy. Helping you with his gorgeous little sister.

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