I often find myself looking at my son, whether he’s being funny, cute or even naughty, and I wonder what it would have been like to have two of him – a carbon copy, a mirror image. Would they have had the same infectious giggle, cheeky grin and love for all things Fireman Sam? Probably not, but I will always wonder… What if George was here too?

On 4 March 2018, six weeks before my due date, our world officially came crashing down. I’d spent months wondering, hoping, grieving, perhaps even hiding a little, but on that day, it was happening whether I liked it or not.

To say I was blindsided by infertility, loss and the complexities therein is very much an understatement.

I met my husband in a University lecture at 19, engaged at 24, married at 27.  By 28 I had the job, the house, the support network, the life for a baby.  When we started trying to conceive I felt nothing but excitement for what was to come.  Month after month, if my period was even a day late, I would take a pregnancy test convinced that this would be our time.  It was after about nine months of trying that I started to get a bit jittery.  We were young and healthy, eating well and tracking cycles – this should be working.  Why were we not getting pregnant?

December 2015 saw the start of our 4^th pregnancy, and hopefully a successful one after 3 losses over the prior 18 months.  The pregnancy was great, and what seemed like the following day, I was 40 weeks pregnant with Mathijs.

At the age of 20, I was diagnosed with Secondary Amenorrhea – the absence of periods for unknown reasons after having them normally for many years. After some investigations, I was informed these would be likely to return at some stage during my early 20’s and there was no cause for concern.  Being so young and having minimal responsibilities, the thought of children had not really crossed my mind at that stage and, therefore, I continued life with the reassurance that one day everything would resume as it was meant to.