1 February 2017

My husband I married on 29 July 2016, we didn't start trying for children straight away. The main reason for this was because although I was in a stable job and would have been eligible for maternity leave, we had relocated in April 2016, and I had an hour and a half commute which we wanted to shorten before I added the tiring effects of pregnancy to the mix.

I looked for jobs when we first moved, but then planning for the wedding took over, and it was put off. I started job-hunting again in August, and on 30 September 2016, I was offered a job with a 25 minute commute! I handed in my notice, took a week's holiday before starting, and re-decorated our bedroom. In the run up to this, I had started to feel "dis-connected" so the re-decoration was to help me settle, it didn't feel like home; although I think in part that was in relation to the massive commute. That week, beginning 31 October 2016, was during my fertile period. We decided to hit the ground running, thinking that we would never strike the bullseye first time.

My husband went to visit his sister the last weekend in November, I hadn't been able to make it because before it was planned I had already agreed that I would be available to teach at the circus school. It was maybe the Friday that I started to think that I might be pregnant, but I wanted to wait, for the ever so romantic peeing on a stick in front of my husband. I'd had signs, like needing to take naps on the drive home from work, the 25 minute drive; and wanting lots of milk. Sunday rolled around, he got home, and I told him that I all but knew I was pregnant. The pregnancy test we had said that it would take 1-3 minutes to show a positive result, so about 20 seconds after I peed on it, I said to the door "I'm pregnant". I guess the pregnancy hormone was strong in me!

We got excited, we told family. We had a scan (17 January 2017). We saw the heart beating, saw our little wriggler, got the pictures. Told some friends. I travelled home for a family event on the last weekend in January, without my husband. In the airport the metal detectors weren't working, so they were asking everyone to go through the X Ray machines instead. I got to the front of the line, and realised this. I panicked. I said "I don't want to go in there, I'm pregnant!" It was the first time I had told a stranger who wasn't a medical professional. I was allowed to go past and stood to be searched. The lady who stood in front of me asked me how many weeks. It was "14 weeks yesterday" said with a big smile.

I was starting to relax.

The following Wednesday (1 February 2017) I was in work, I had a little bit of spotting, but not a lot. I wasn't too worried, but I was worried. I text my husband, and although he works shifts, he was at work then too. We discussed it, and in the end I decided to contact the midwives and leave work early. I left at 15:30. When I first booked in my midwife had told me that spotting was normal, but to always get it checked out.

The hospital staff were brilliant, I was taken through, and Chris, one of the midwives, chatted to me, took the various measurements she needed to, and the pee. (There's a lot of pee while you're pregnant!) Then she brought me through for a scan, and found a doctor to perform the scan. Kirsty was lovely, she acknowledged that it was a difficult time, having seen the scan, but not yet feeling the movement. She, like Chris, reassured me that the amount of brown spotting I was talking about was unlikely to be of any concern. She squeezed the jelly out, she lifted the wand, she delivered what was, up until that point, the worst news of my life. There was no heartbeat.