So OH left this morning for a whole week away (work). I rejoice at this and feel bad but after all the bad air these past few days it’ll be nice to walk into a house where you don’t need a knife to cut through the atmosphere.

The cold is pretty brutal and am now at that bunged up, snotty, coughy stage which means sleep is impossible this ever decreasing any good mood I may have had to start with.

Nausea doesn’t seem as bad today which of course is sending me into a panic but boobs still incredibly sore and tiredness still debilitating so am hanging onto those for hope.

I found out today that a very dear friend of mine, one who saw us through our first 3 miscarriages and the birth of our son before moving away, has experienced the terrible loss of her own. We were due within days of each other and was looking forward to seeing her bloom, hoped we would bloom together. Her precious little angel didn’t make it past 6 weeks, at which stage she messaged me saying she felt ‘different’ and that a scan showed an embryo that wasn’t as big as it should have been but was given hope that she’d just got her dates wrong. I hoped and prayed for her but suspected the worst, hoping beyond hope to be proven horribly wrong. Another scan today revealed her baby hadn’t survived. She will make the most terrific mother when her time will hopefully come. Having been through it 4 times myself you’d think I’d have something amazing to say to her to make the terrible pain and ache go away but I’m at a loss. It occurs to me there’s nothing anyone can say that’ll make it better and I can’t even give her a hug. I hope, beyond hope she doesn’t have to go through it again and that she conceives again soon. My heart weeps for her.

222 days to go

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