Three years ago today I discovered I was pregnant. It was a surprise as we had been trying for years to have a sibling for our DS but despite IVF and our hardest efforts, it didn't happen.
The timing was bad - we were just about to pick up a puppy (baby substitute) which we had planned for months. We took the pragmatic view that there was a good chance that the pregnancy would not stick and so we decided to go ahead.
I started to miscarry in the car as we drove home with our new puppy.
That night I slept on the sofa as planned so that I could be near the puppy. He slept on my stomach as I felt lumps of would-have-been-baby leeching out of me.
I was so scared - it didn't seem serious enough to deserve a hospital visit (people miscarry all the time) but there was a lot of blood and I felt weak. I'm still angry and resentful that DH left me to it. I needed him to take charge of the situation and he didn't.
It doesn't really matter now: it was three years ago. I have my lovely DS. I have my insane but lovely pup. DH and I are rubbing along.
But I am sad. That's all.