The first time I held Alice, she was dying.  At five days old, at some ungodly hour of the night in NICU, she was gently placed into my arms, where she belonged all along. “Oh she feels LOVELY” were the only words I could find, and I repeated them over and over, insisting that the nurses transfer her to her Dad quickly so that he could feel this too, while she was still alive, the warm little bundle we’d worried about so intensely and loved so fiercely for the past seven months.

My pregnancy journey was just over 24 hours, and was the day that has had the biggest impact on my life. I was finishing up nightshift in the Emergency Department on 24^th March, when I suddenly had abdominal pain. I brushed it aside, these things are usually nothing, dosed myself up with painkillers and drove home. Throughout the day I woke up with painful shoulders – again, I brushed it aside, it was probably how I was sleeping. When I woke up I’d noticed I’d had a small amount of bleeding – not particularly odd given I had the Mirena coil and had irregular spotting. Looking back, I can’t believe I ignored these ‘red flag’ symptoms.

I always knew I wanted to have children. Coming from a large family and being surrounded by babies as I grew up, I couldn’t imagine not having children of my own. I met Dean at 23, and as our relationship progressed we discussed having a family and agreed that was something we wanted. We married and luckily fell pregnant two months after our honeymoon. The speed with which it happened was surprising, but we were excited to welcome a little piece of us both.