I had a miscarriage at 8 weeks pregnant.

On May 16th 2025-  I got told that I would never be able to fall pregnant naturally- ever again.

(Let’s talk about this another time. There is just too much to say).

But this January 9th 2026- three years exactly since my heart wrenching infertility journey began-  I discovered I was pregnant. 

It was a complete and utter miracle.

The next morning, January 10th- I got sent to the Emergency Pregnancy Unit at my local hospital. A month of endless tests and internals, and poking and prodding commenced.

From January 10th- January 15th- I couldn’t breathe.

On January 15th- we saw the Gestation Sac.

From January 16th- January 22nd- I couldn’t breathe.

On January 23rd- we saw the yolk sac.

From January 24th- February 3rd- I couldn’t breathe.

On February 4th-  I started to bleed.

On February 5th-  We saw your small, slow, beautiful heartbeat- but I got told to prepare for the worst.

On February 6th and the 7th-  I could barely breathe through the tears and the fear and my broken heart. I couldn’t even get myself out of bed.

On February 8th-  we found out that our sweet little baby’s heart had stopped beating.

On February 10th- we saw you on the screen for the final time. And we silently said our goodbyes.

For five days, I sat at home- frozen with fear- waiting to ‘misscarry’ naturally. It was unbearable torture.

On February 13th- I went back to hospital to have surgery.

On February 14th- I was no longer pregnant.

It is now March 5th, exactly a month since everything happened. In an alternate universe my 12 week scan would have been this Saturday.

I got to carry you in my tummy for eight incredible weeks.

I was floating on air.

I watched my tummy grow.

And I saw your sweet little heart.

You was our complete and utter miracle.

We couldn’t have loved you more.

I have cried more tears than I even knew existed. Had more needles stuck in me and probes stuck up me than I have wanted to bare.

A ‘missed miscarriage’ is what they call it.

Where your body still thinks your pregnant. 

And your HCG continues to rise. 

Even when your baby stops growing.

Where your tummy grows by the day. 

And you still feel sick and exhausted. 

With zero indication anything is wrong.

I still cant get my head around the fact that one minute I was so pregnant. 

Hoping and dreaming and planning.

But within the blink of an eye- everything changed.

After the dreaded morning of February 5th, I could barely speak or move for six whole days. I was completely numb. I just wanted to curl into a ball and run away. 

It actually felt completely unnatural for me to feel such a strong over whelming sadness because I am usually such a strong, upbeat, positive silly billy- no matter what I am going through. But these last few weeks I have been a complete shell of myself. The whole experience truly whipped the air out of my sails and left me completely and utterly speechless.

It has been a month since that dreaded day. But as each day passes, slowly but surely I am trying to find my sparkle again.

I truly didn’t think I would ever have the courage to talk about what happened on my blog.

I didn’t feel brave to speak about it at the time, because if I told everyone- then that meant it was real. 

And I so so so badly wanted it to be a horrible dream.

But now, I finally feel strong enough to share my story, in the hope that this might help someone else silently suffering.

In moments of despair, I have been told that having a miscarriage is ‘so common’. 

But this phrase gives me no comfort at all. 

To know that so many of you might have also been through this excruciating pain doesn’t comfort me in the slightest, it just fills me with utter sadness that the world can be so unfair.

For anyone that has been through what we are experiencing right now- I send you every ounce of love there is to be felt. 

There are simply no words to ever make it okay- but I want you to know that you can message me any time of day and I am here. 

WHAT HAPPENED?

From the moment I saw that miracle of a blue line on that stick….….The stick I have been staring at with a microscope for three years- waiting to see that line of dreams…..… I treated my pregnancy like a complete military operation. 

Logging every blood test- analysing results- constant internals- endless blood tests- appointment after appointment after appointment- doing EVERYTHING I could to be on top of things.

But it still wasn’t enough.

It all happened in such a blur. I can’t quite make sense of it.

It was just a normal Wednesday. I was at work in the middle of a meeting with my team when I popped to the loo.

The dot was smaller than a freckle. The smallest, tiniest, miniscule glimmer of red.

But I knew. I instantly knew.

I remember walking back to my friends, shaking. Telling them what i’d just seen- taking big gulps to stop the tears of panic rising. My amazing friends keeping me calm, googling, checking, saying all the right things. “Spotting is sooo common. Don’t panic”.

But I knew.

That night the dot became a line.

And I knew.

And the next morning the line got bigger.

We drove to the hospital in silence, both praying and wishing that it was all going to be okay.

But the moment I sat in that chair, I knew.

The silence was deafening. 

Its hard to put into words just how unbearably traumatic the days that followed after that appointment were. In fact i’m struggling to be able to fully write about what happened. Its still too real and raw.

What I found the most painful was that we knew our baby wasn’t okay- we were told they hadn’t grown as much as they should and their heart beat was way too slow. But they were still alive- hanging on by a thread.

The terminology was insufferable at that moment- the doctors were speaking in riddles.

I simply stared at them and pleaded- please just be honest with us, is there any hope? And she simply said ‘i’m so sorry, I don’t think so’.

I was told to ‘wait’ a week to see if the baby was to grow, handed a leaflet that stated I should go straight to A and E if I started to heavily bleed in the upcoming few days, and boom- just like that I was back in the car park wondering if the last 15 minutes had been a hideous terrible dream? The level of care was extremely questionable. 

We both sobbed our hearts out. And the tears didn’t stop for days.

Every second felt like an hour. Every hour like a day.

I was there physically, still having to be mum- but it was as if I was on autopilot, a complete shell of myself.

By Sunday I couldn’t bare it or wait any longer. I just needed to know.

We booked ourselves a private appointment where we found out that our darling baby’s heart had stopped beating. 

However horrendous it was to hear that, I knew it meant that I could start to grieve properly.

The what ifs, the fear for what might happen, the agonising worry and sadness, the unbearable unknowns- yet still having that teeny tiny small glimmer of hope was just too much for my heart. 

Days later I still hadn’t ‘miscarried’ naturally.

But I truly could not bare the thought of going through it at home. I had done lots of research, and sadly heard some horrific horror stories. For me- it all just sounded traumatising and I simply didn’t feel brave enough to go through that whilst grieving.

So I made the decision to get surgery.

For those that know me, you know that for me to get a blood test without fainting is a complete and utter performance.

So to physically beg for surgery, shows the utter despair and desperation I felt.

And, I think that is what makes it so unbearably hard for women that miscarry. 

Because not only do they have to go through the sadness and shock and mental trauma of losing their baby, but then they are made to wait it out at home, or take a pill to induce their body and go through the agony of labour pains whilst misscarrying, or get surgery. 

Three soul destroying options. With no good outcome.

In that week, fear rippled through my body every time I wiped. And it still does. 

I was too scared to leave the house. It was a physically and mentally horrible time.

Although I was utterly terrified, I knew that surgery would be the safest option for me.

Three weeks later, I can look back and say that I 10000% made the right choice. 

For anyone reading this, who sadly might also be questioning what to do, and who is feeling as petrified as I was- I promise you- that in my darkest time, I felt so safe and so looked after. If I can do the surgery, I promise you, you can. My inbox is always always open to talk.

One thing i’ve really struggled with, is the mental side of – one minute having a baby in your tummy and the next minute them being gone. 

Subconsciously I  have been holding my belly since early January- without even knowing it- just hardly believing there was a little baby growing inside.  It was my way of feeling close to them. 

Even when I woke up from the operation I remember my arms were tucked inside the blankets still holding tightly on to my belly. It was the first thing I remember. And now, every time i touch it, i’m reminded that they are not there. 

They have gone. And it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

The 8 days between finding out we were miscarrying to organising the operation were spent in a horrific blur of grief, endless hospital appointments, waiting to bleed, being frozen in fear at every wipe, trying to pretend everything was ‘normal’ for Teds.

Looking back- it was like we was in the midst of a whirlwind hurricane.

And now- the silence. 

Life has moved on. And i’m just supposed to get on with it?

I’ll have hours throughout a day where I will be belly laughing, and then I remember and it suddenly hits me like a tidal wave. 

But i’m taking each day as it comes and trying to be as kind to myself as possible. 

I know I am going to be okay, but I also know it’s okay to sometimes not be okay.  

But it is also totally okay to be happy and smile and laugh. (how many more times do I want to say okay??) 

Some times I feel like I need to punish myself which i know is utterly ridiculous- but I feel this guilt eating me up that I wasn’t able to keep you safe. I promise you, little one, that I tried with every single bone in my body.

TEDDY BEAR

I’ve always known Teddy was my medicine but these last few week he is literally the reason I have been able to get out of bed.

Trying to be ‘normal’ for him has been a real struggle- but he remains blissfully unaware as to what has been going on. We did have to tell him that mummy had an operation in hospital but it was essential to me that I protected him from the truth.

The day after my surgery was Valentine’s day- I spent it in bed with the little love of my life. 

My operation was on the Friday night so that Saturday I still felt completely out of it and high on the general anaesthetic. But my little rascal was the best company-  he sat with me in bed for hours- we spooned whilst he played with his Ipad and I slept and rested in his arms. I got hundreds of kisses on my head with whispers of “I love you mummy” in my ear. We ate endless chocolate and drew silly pictures of each other and he did what he does best- and made me belly laugh the entire day. 

I’m 1000 percent sure that boy is the reason I recovered so quickly. My Teddy Bear with the heart of gold.

He is my sunshine. My happiness. My heart. My complete and utter everything.

There are some tricky milestones that we have to face in the next few days.

Our 12 week scan was meant to be this Saturday, the day before my favourite boy in the world’s birthday.

I can’t tell you how many day dreams I had in Jan and Feb where I visualised telling Teddy he was going to be a big brother on his birthday. It felt so meant to be.

But I am going to put my super brave hat on this weekend- oh its had quite the wear these last few weeks– because there is no way in hell I am going to let this over shadow Teddy’s special weekend. And we have something magical planned- it couldn’t have come at a better time. 

All I want is for his birthday to be filled with joy and happiness and love and laughter because no one deserves it more than him.

Although this path has been painful and confusing and terrifying and lonely, we have never felt so loved and grateful for what we have and who we have.

I need to give a special shoutout to my magical hubby, who has been through the trenches with me. He has been my complete and utter rock. There is nothing that man wouldn’t do for me and Teddy and I know I have hit the jackpot. We really have been through it all together these last few years- but no matter what happens in this journey-I know we will always have each other.

My beautiful kind special magical family – there are simply no words for how out of this world you have been and how grateful I am. I am so beyond lucky to have you all and just love you all a ridiculous amount.

To my amazing friends- thank you!!!! Usually talking or writing is my safe space- sharing gives me comfort. It’s been so unlike me- but when we found out – I just wanted to completely run away from the world. Bar the many many hospital appointments I hardly left the house for a week. I didn’t want to tell anyone. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t want to see a soul. It took me six days to be able to open up to my friends and face what was going on. But once I did I felt the biggest outpouring of love I could have wished for. I am so grateful to each and every one of you for your messages of support and strength- kind offers of visits – delicious chocolate deliveries and offering to help with Teddy- you kept me going in my darkest time and i’ll never forget it.

I also need to give a special shout out to my kind bosses at Mothership TV. Working as a freelancer when a shitstorm life event gets in the way of work is a big pile of chaos on top of an already stressful situation. But they were so kind and understanding- giving me the space to work from home whilst I was grieving, waiting to ‘misscarry’, and then recover from my operation. I will forever be thankful for their kindness.

LIFE AFTER A MISCARRIAGE. 

So what the f happens now???

I truly wish it was as easy as just ‘trying again when I feel ready’. 

The amount of people who have told me “The good news is- you are sooo fertile after a miscarriage” and I slowly die a bit inside.

Because unfortunately with my health situation, I am not in control of my own fate. And I don’t get to choose my timeline. 

Lets start with the fact that it has taken me THREE years to get a positive test. 

THREE YEARS. 

In the last month I have agonised over this time frame- constantly worrying “what if it takes that long again?” or even longer? What if I never see a blue line again? IS TIME RUNNING OUT??

But besides that unknown- my biggest biggest worry right now is looking after my Thyroid. 

I’m being tested regularly to make sure I don’t relapse, and if I do, (which is a very strong possibility with my hormones being all over the show) I will need to take medication straight away otherwise it becomes scarily dangerous. 

I had a bad relapse last May after Disney, and it took me seven months to recover. After coming off medication in December we miraculously fell pregnant over Christmas.

But if I relapse again, I will have to start all over again with my recovery. And wont be able to try. It is utterly draining.

On top of this, I know I need to give myself time to heal physically but especially mentally- because I truly don’t know if I actually have the strength to go through this again? 

Maybe in a few months my mind set will feel different but right now I feel completely terrified at the thought of going through this again.

After waiting and praying for something so hard for three years, to finally get it, and then have it ripped away from me so cruelly has felt like a dagger to my heart.

The truth is, I always knew I was high risk but I stupidly let myself get caught up in the whirlwind of excitement. 

I had my names ready, I was starting to day dream about the nursery next door Teddy’s room, I had visions of next Christmas as a family of four. 

How utterly utterly ridiculous of me.

 I shouldn’t of let myself get so excited – I should of protected my heart more- but I was just SO overwhelmed and excited.

This has changed everything. 

If I was to ever ever ever fall pregnant again I don’t even know how I will be able to breathe or function?

All the joy and happiness has been ripped away. I’m guessing that anyone that has been through a loss will understand this.

The amount of times I have questioned WHY over the last few weeks has been over whelming.

I am still waiting to find out what went wrong. Agonising over what happened. A million and one scenarios have gone through my mind. Lots of doctors have told me its simply ‘bad luck’.

The hospital has sent my tissue off to get tested in a lab- so I hope to get clarity and closure and some form of an answer soon. No matter how scary those results might be- I always believe knowledge is power.

But most importantly, I need to remember that the biggest take on all of this- was that I actually did it- and after being told by one of the top doctors on Harley Street that I will never conceive naturally again- I proved them wrong.

I wanted to scream from the rooftops. LOOK- IVE DONE IT- MAYBE I’M NOT BROKEN AFTER ALL!!!!!!!

And even though the outcome has been terrible. I need to remember that I am an absolute WARRIOR. WHO DEFIED THE ODDS.

And because of this it’s made me think maybe just maybe my body can do this again.

If I can keep on being super brave maybe one day we might get our rainbow after the storm.

But for now this is all on pause. 

Since the moment 2026 started I feel like all I have done is be in hospital. 

I genuinely think i’m on my 16th hospital appointment. It’s been mentally draining and completely relentless, not to mention terrifying.

So instead, I am going to spend the next few months filling my cup. 

I want to eat allllll the delicious food. I want to go back to Pilates and Barre. I want to spend my birthday vouchers and get a hydra facial and get my hurrrrr done. I want to make a million silly memories with my family and friends. I want to belly laugh. I want to book a holiyay and be a beach bum hun.

But most importantly I want to spend time with that rascal. The total love of my life.

For a crazy magical out of this world 8 weeks, we believed we were lucky enough to maybe be blessed with two darlings in our life. To give Teddy the best friend he so badly deserves.

I appreciated every second of it.

I let myself believe that maybe we was actually finally going to get our miracle happy ending.

But i’ve realised that I already have my happy ending – and he has been next to me the entire time. 

Needing me. Loving me. Adoring me.

Life has been on pause but now it is time to get back to living.

I have a boy who is sleeping next to me now who is precious and kind and perfect. 

I need to focus on him because he deserves the best life possible. 

Our bond, is unstoppable. And I know we will be just fine, the three musketeers.

I’m going to end this blogs a bit different because I have written a small little letter to my darling egg head. That I hope he might be able to read one day.

Dear Teddy Bear, My best friend.

All I wish for in life is to be able to give you a baby sister or brother. And despite not knowing if I can, I promise you I will do everything it takes.

No matter what happens. I hope one day when you are old enough to understand, you will know I am doing everything I can. I promise you i’ll keep going, and I’ll keep being brave.

But most importantly.

I hope you know that YOU. My Teddy Bear. YOU are enough for me.

You my darling, are all I could ever need and all I could ever wish for in life.

Because i’ve completely struck gold and hit the jackpot with you.

Most days I wonder- were YOU my miracle all along??

Maybe, just maybe, my body doesn’t want too or doesn’t know how to carry anyone else. 

Apart from YOU. 

Because you, my darling,

You chose me. And I chose you.

YOU are my MAGIC.  And YOU are my dream come true.

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