A letter to my baby girl…

Sometimes I let my mind wander. It often happens in the quiet darkness of the early hours when everything else is still.  That’s when my grief is often the loudest and hardest to make sense of.  I often torture myself by asking the same question over and over. Would I change anything?

I wouldn’t change my experience as your Mum, however hard it was, is and always will be.  Being your Mum was the hardest and most heart breaking thing but I would do it a thousand times over.  For the most part, I am proud and I am thankful for the way you have, and continue to impact on my life.

The 10^th of March 2015 will forever be etched in my mind, this was the date we found out I was pregnant.  We were both so excited, scared and nervous of course but ultimately happier than ever.  Looking back now I say blissfully ignorant.  At six weeks we saw a tiny little heartbeat after a bleeding scare and from that moment, I was in love.  That natural instinct to love and protect was there from the very beginning.

Nothing could have prepared me for the sense of loss I felt following IVF.  I did all the self-preservation I possibly could have done, but when the day came that we found out it had not worked, my world fell apart.

Our first round of IVF gave us three good quality embryos.  We decided to have two embryos transferred and have one frozen.  I was immediately attached to them, they were the closest I had ever felt to feeling pregnant.  The agonising two-week-wait was upon us, after weeks of a mammoth journey.  Constant hurdles, examinations, tests, injections, hormone therapy, scans and eagerly awaited phone calls from the specialist nurses.

At the start of 2017,  I was pregnant with our second child.  We were overjoyed to discover that our daughter, Emmeline, was due to have a little brother in the Summer.  She would be almost three when our son came along, and we envisaged all the adventures they would have together as they grew older; endless summer days in the garden riding their bikes and building dens.  We were sure that Emme, who even at a young age was strong willed and knew her own mind,  would be the boss, and that her little brother would dote on her every word.