I've just found this blog as it was on the front page, I hope you don't mind me joining in. Delete it if you like, I found just writing this helped a bit.

I was 16 when they told me my ovaries were a bit messed up and that I might have trouble conceiving. At that point, it was a horrific thought. Me? Children? Never! Besides, the fact that I only had about 5 periods a year was a bonus!

When I was 18 I met the man of my dreams and I was very open with him about it. We were thinking ahead: He was happy to try for children, and if necessary we'd adopt. We got engaged, were each others' 'firsts' as we planned to be together forever. My happily ever after was really happening.

When I was 21 and half way through my final year at uni, I sunk into the depths of depression. I was so tired and emotional and sick; I couldn't eat or sleep or study. I could barely get out of bed. That new year's eve, at my lowest point, I told him that he should start the year without me.

I got very drunk, a lot. I smoked, a lot. I skipped lectures, didn't sleep for weeks and had mood swings so bad I couldn't even stand to be with myself.

Almost a year ago today, I started to bleed like I'd never bled before. There wasn't really any pain. There was a slight cramp, and then so much blood, more than usual, more than there'd ever been. Despite my medical background, I didn't know what was happening even though looking back now it's so obvious. It's so different when it happens to you. I walked along to the A&E in the middle of the night. When they told me, I didn't believe them. I couldn't believe them.

I was about 12 weeks gone when I lost my baby. Everyone tells me it's not my fault, and I know I'd probably have lost it anyway, but no one will ever be able to get rid of the guilt. I drank, I smoked, I stayed out late and partied too hard. For all I know that might have been the only chance I had, and I didn't make the most of it because I didn't know it was there growing inside me. How didn't I know? No matter what anyone says, ever, there will always be a part of me that knows I may have killed my child. I should have known it was there, things could have been so different. Maybe the ending would have been the same. For a long time I didn't tell anyone, not even the father. I was so ashamed, so guilty, so dirty.

One year on, and it seems all my friends and family are having children. There are babies and bumps everywhere I look. Each new announcement makes me feel happy, sad, totally inadequate.

No one else remembered the due date when it passed; no one else will remember the day my babe was lost.

I should have known it was there. 

I should have known it was there.