I would be half way through my pregnancy now. Most likely spending the bank holiday dragging my wife round John Lewis for blankets and the maxi cosy car seat I wanted specifically in raven black.
What am I doing this bank holiday? I’m laid in bed in agony, enduring my first period since I lost him. I knew it’d be sooner or later. On the one hand I wanted it out of the way as I knew it would physically and emotionally be very challenging. On the other hand I hoped it would never come. There is nothing like a period to remind me my pregnancy is no more, my body is back to square one. Minus 100.
I thought the next time I would see a period I wouldn’t care less because I’d have my baby in my arms. Instead it signifies the worst kind of loss and the torment and frustration of trying for a baby, particularly with fertility treatment. I am so depressed about it, all I have done today is sit in his room and look at his scan pictures. And ask why. Why are we in this position after all the time we have waited and all the IVF?