I don’t really feel the urge to write as much as I did before, and I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

The last few days have been a whirlwind, I haven’t cried as much as I thought I would, I haven’t sat playing it over and grieving over it l as much as I thought I would, and I certainly haven’t felt as sad as I thought I would. 

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my moments, and I don’t know how many moments are yet to come, but today is actually the first morning where I’ve woken up and not felt so great, it’s almost as if something has shifted.

He, for the last 9 months has been my best friend, my lover and partner all rolled into one and this would have been the most testing couple of weeks for even the strongest of couples. So it has surprised me at how well we have dealt with it and how we have managed to move through this togethe, causing only   minimal destruction to our relationship and to each other. 

But today, I feel different. It’s as though the fears I had last week have manifested and I’ve woken up feeling different about everything. About us, about our relationship. I don’t know if it’s just a case of ‘waking up on the wrong side of bed’, but for some reason, I’m looking at things in whole different light. 

I’m seeing us as damaged, tainted. Like this will always be a shadow lurking in the background of our relationship forever. Like we will always look back at this month with pain and regret, and remember amount of  times we’ve seen each other completely pushed to the brink, crying relentlessly or not speaking for hours. The amount of ‘in the moment’ mean things we’ve said to one another, the petty arguments, the gruelling decision making. The countless hospital appointments and scans where we did and didn’t want to see a baby. And then Wednesday, where we sat in a room together and made such a huge decision that played out in only a split second.

I refuse to let this define us. I know that things will get better and we will become stronger because of it. I just can’t help wishing that we could go back a few months, and carry on being that carefree couple who laughed at lost in all the wrong places and went on spontaneous hotel dates and had picnics in the garden and drank pimms and lemonade in the middle of the day, just because. 

I want to be those people again, because right now, I don’t know who we are. 



I didn’t expect to feel like this. 

I don’t know whether I’m just high on Codine or in a state of shock, but I feel surprisingly okay. 

The clinic we were at treated us with such care and dignity that it was easy at times to forget what we were there for. But in between the consultation and the prescription I did have a little cry, because all of a sudden, it does it hit you, and you remember the horrible reason why you’re there and what you’re about to do. 

I won’t go into the details, but my hands were shaking when I took the pill. I still wasn’t sure that I was making the right decision, but I knew we had come this far and that turning back now wasn’t an option. 
It’s been quite a few hours since I wrote those previous paragraphs, I had to stop writing because the pains got a little intense and I started watching Harry Potter as a distraction. But about half an hour ago I think I fully passed the pregnancy, and the relief is immense.

I feel cruel even writing that, let alone feeling it. But it was absolute torture being pregnant with something I knew wasn’t mine. Knowing that it’s gone now, completely gone, means that I can get on with my life and make an effort to move forward and being pregnant stopped me from doing that. It means that I can go back to work without this hanging over me and I can enjoy a drink again and just life in general, without feeling guilty. 

I think that’s what it all comes down to in the end – guilt. I was guilty for missing my pill in the first place and felt guilty that I was going to terminate. I felt guilty that I put my partner, my future in – laws and my own parents through the excitement of a baby only to tell them it wasn’t meant to be. I felt guilty that I could potentially have a child with a disability, and dreaded the amount of guilt that would come with it and I felt guilty that there are people out there, so desperate for a baby, and here I am about to get rid of mine. 

Guilt is such a horrible emotion, one of the worst in fact, and the only way to truely get over it is to get rid of the responsibility that’s tying you to it, and get on with life. 


Sometimes, just sometimes I think this might end us. 

We are strong, don’t get me wrong, but every now and then, in the midst of all this madness and heartache I look at him and I’m scared for our future. I’m scared that this is something we will never fully recover from. That the decision we are about to make will forever be etched in our memories.

I know that by the time it gets to June next year I will look down at my stomach and sit and imagine an ‘if only’ scenario. I know my heart will feel heavy and I know that I will ache for the child that I should be about to give birth to. I know that every month until then I will silently count how many weeks I would’ve been, I’ll imagine every scan that I should’ve had. And I’ll imagine the baby that we should’ve been holding. I’m just that person. 

I wish I could let things go, that I could be ice cold and pretend that this is happening to someone else. I wish I could just detach myself from it and feel absolutely nothing, but I can’t. I can’t describe the immense pain I feel every morning waking up and being sick, knowing that these symptoms are for a baby we will never have. Nothing feels worth it. The headaches, the sore nipples, the sickness, the cravings, the bloating. These are all for a pregnancy that I will have ended in just under 24 hours and I’m petrified.

I don’t know if I can do it, if I can really be that person and take that pill. If I can sit there and say that this really isn’t what I want when there’s this part of me, willing me to carry on and to have faith that everything will be okay. 


Every single day is the same.
I wake up, I lie in bed staring at the ceiling for 6 hours, then I eat and then I’ll sleep. 
Obviously there’s little bits in between where I’ll have conversations and go on my phone, but that’s pretty much the just of my day for the last few weeks. 
Having all this time off work is tough. I love my job (sometimes) but not being there has made me realise just how much I enjoy it, and I just how out of the loop I feel by being at home. I don’t go back for another 10 days and I’ve already had 13 off, I’m lucky that they’ve been so understanding but I’m so fed up of doing absolutely nothing. 
I can’t believe I’m only two days away from what felt like months away when I was first given a date. The morning sickness has hit me hard over the last few days and now it feels more real than ever. It feels like my body is screaming at me not to do it. Not to go ahead. It’s giving me one final reminder of what’s inside me and the job I have. To protect it. To love it and let it grow. 


I thought I was getting better.

I thought I was starting to become more like the old me again, enjoying things again, laughing again. But today I feel like absolute shit.

You’re never prepared for it, it’s always so out of the blue, so unexpected. I was literally fine until this morning when I woke up, and even until he went to work. But since then I’ve felt as though I’m carrying this dark cloud around with me and it’s raining everywhere I stand.

I know I should go out today, but I just can’t. I know I don’t want to face anyone, or have a conversation, or even get dressed. Today I don’t want to move out of my bedroom or open the curtains, today I just want to lie here and feel sorry for myself because I haven’t done that in a few days and now it’s starting to feel overdue, like I might cry if someone says the wrong thing to me. In fact I think I might just cry regardless.

He saves me and he doesn’t even know it. He doesn’t know how much my mood shifts when he’s around. How safe I feel when he’s next to me or puts his arm around me or kisses my head. He has no idea just how much I crave his warmth and his love when I’m on my own and just how massive the difference is when he’s here. I look into his eyes and I know everything will be okay, I know that all I need is to see him and to have him near me, and this whole mood just drifts away. He makes me laugh, he makes me smile and he makes all of this feel like it’s the most insignificant thing that could be happening to us right now, and I would never have thought anyone was capable of making me feel that way. Nobody.


Yesterday I think I lost it.

I mean fully lost it.

Looking back now it all seems so silly, so insignificant. But I remember how numb I felt and how every little thing felt so overwhelmingly bad. Life felt terrible, I have never felt as dark as I did yesterday. It was as though every inch of hope had been squeezed out of me and I couldn’t remember what it felt like to be happy, and was certain that I’d never feel it again.
My heart hurt and felt heavy, my head was pounding. Every thought was cloudy and depressing, I just knew that in that moment, I wanted it all to be over.

I went for a walk and I didn’t want to come home, I just wanted to cry and walk and cry some more and keep walking until I didn’t know where I was anymore. I wanted to be as lost as I felt and be that lost on my own. I wanted nobody and nothing, I didn’t even know what I was so down about. Having a baby/not having a baby/ not knowing/waiting. I was just so fed up of life and how miserable it was making me, I didn’t even salute the single magpies because I was so certain that this was as bad as it could get, that no amount of saluting would save me from the darkness.

Looking back now, I think I’d reached the end of my tether, well temporarily anyway. I lost sight of the end and it all felt so far away. Like I was being punished for being in this state, and so I was being left in this position for as long as physically possible so that I knew what it felt like to hurt. To fully fuck up. To pay for what I had done.


A week makes a hell of a lot of a difference. I don’t even know if that makes sense but right now I don’t care. It’s crazy to think that a week ago we had no idea what the doctor was going to tell us that evening, we had little hope, no expectations and we were pretty certain that the news we were about to receive would be shit. I can’t believe that in this last week we’ve been told so many different things and given so much information that it’s hard, even now to make sense of it all and know that we are without a doubt making the right decision. There’s this nagging feeling, eating away at me and I’m so sure that this decision isn’t necessarily the right decision. But it’s the best one, the safer of the two. I have this feeling that if we were to go ahead then everything would be okay, that this would all be a distant memory and our baby would be beautiful and healthy and look exactly like him. The thought of what we’re about to do haunts me every single night and every morning when I wake its the first thing I think about. Throughout the day it consumes me and I’ve cried more tears in the last week than I have done in my entire lifetime or so it feels.

In a weeks time I will be just two days away from making the biggest decision of my life, and one I’m not sure I’m ready to make. It feels wrong, so incredibly wrong, but I could never live with the guilt if this didn’t play out the way I would hope it would. I feel as though I’m just counting down the days, wondering whether anything will change between now and then it if this really is the final decision7

And the rest..

So the next posts, and the ones following are all after  approximately 14236 doctors phones calls, hospital visits and consultations, where we were told that it was under no circumstances whatsoever safe to go ahead with this pregnancy.

We were told that the original doctor had little knowledge of the drug and the side effects, and therefore were referred from specialist to specialist, and eventually told that the risks were just too high, and that the usually recommendation is 6 months off of the drug, before you even begin to contemplate trying to conceive.

I must admit, that these last few weeks have been the hardest ones I have ever faced. I look back at my first post and feel an overwhelming sense of guilt, that I was so nonchalant about the whole situation. That I was so self absorbed and didn’t appreciate those few days where we though that we were having a baby, and instead spent them worrying about things that now seem so insignificant.

The next posts and the ones that will follow are all the build up to my termination, which will take place on Wednesday 26th October, when I will be a little over 7 weeks pregnant.

I only write when I really feel like it, and usually its a stream of consciousness and doesn’t make a lot of sense, but for now this is the only way that I can deal with the situation and will hopefully help me feel a sense of closure once it is all over.

I don’t know whether I will continue with this blog afterwards, and whether it will still focus on this, or everyday life. I hope I do. I hope that I continue to write, even if it is to nobody, because it feels so good to be typing without thinking, and to let it all out to a bunch of strangers overt the internet. I know I will probably be judged for my decision, judged for my thoughs, judged for my carelessness with contraception – but right now, nobody could possibly hate me as much as I do myself, and so therefore, I am prepared for any backlash.

But I do hope, that out of all of this, someone can comment and admit that they too would do the same in this situation. If they were told at such an early stage that the chances their baby having a severe disability was second to none. That despite what they had read on the internet about there being a small chance that everything could work out okay, that the risk is just not worth taking and is better for everybody involved.

I can only hope right?


I need to write, because if I don’t write, I think I’ll go crazy.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer, for as long as I can remember, but I’ve never known what to write about.
Until now.

Precisely three and a half days ago, on Friday the 7th of October, at 4.55pm in the evening, I found out that I was pregnant.

I’d known for a while, well no- I’d thought it for a while, after missing two periods, having aching boobs and eating the entire contents of the fridge without a second thought.

But I’d taken countless amounts of tests and low and behold, all of them, until Friday were negative. I think I was only taking the test so I could see yet another negative result and set my mind at ease for another day until my period came. I’d experienced some cramping and some spotting so I was convinced that either I was pregnant, or my period was just around the corner, and seeing as all of my tests were saying I wasn’t, I thought it was the latter.

So now, here I am. 1-2 weeks pregnant (according to my 4th positive test – a digital clear blue, just because seeing two lines wasn’t enough – I needed to see the word ‘pregnant’ in writing) and I’m absolutely shitting myself. I have no reason to be scared, that’s the thing. Well initially I did, because I’ve been on a pretty strong drug called accutane (google it) for my adult acne, and under NO CIRCUMSTANCES WHATSOEVER , was I allowed to get pregnant. They made me sign a proper contract pledging that I would use two forms of contraception (I didn’t) report to them immediately if I thought there was a chance I could be pregnant (I didn’t) and above all, not get pregnant (I can’t put I didn’t here because I can’t stand double negatives, but you get he jist). So yeah, I fully, well and truly fucked up. But anyway, I stopped taking the drug six weeks ago and the doctor confirmed for me yesterday that the pregnancy will be absolutely fine to continue with and she sees no risk whatsoever. So yay we’re having a baby!

I say ‘we’ as it feels as though my entire family, and my partners family are having this baby with us. It’s literally the perfect set up. I already have a daughter from a previous relationship, and my fianc√© and her get on amazingly well. My family love my partner, his family love me, and now we’re having a baby. Hurray for everyone.

I should probably explain…

Okay, so the next 3/4 posts are all small diary entries that I have been typing out on my phone since I first found out that I was pregnant.

I feel as though I should explain them a little and then after that the following ones should all make sense!

The first post is a few days after I found out that I was pregnant. I had been taken a drug called Accutane for 8 months, and had been warned many times of the dangers I faced if I was to fall pregnant. It’s classed as a ‘black label drug’ and therefore, can affect the baby both physically and mentally, causing horrendous and life changing abnormalities.

Now I will be the first to admit, that I was careless in the final months of taking the drug with my contraceptive pill, and accidentally missed a few, believing that everything would be okay. So imagine my horror when I found out I’d managed to do the unthinkable and fall pregnant, and the consequences I knew we would have to face.

I had however, stopped taking the pill six weeks before I found out was pregnant, and therefore there was, so we thought, a small window of opportunity where I may have conceived with the drug fully out of my system, however we had to wait until Monday the 10th of October to have this confirmed by a doctor – which it was.

Looking back now, I wish I had pushed her to research it a little more. She was inexperienced in the drug and we were in and out of the appointment within ten minutes. Considering that beforehand, we had spent the weekend in a complete daze –¬†certain that this doctor was going to tell us to terminate, this news was completely unexpected, especially when she sent me away with an order to pick up some folic acid and to book in with the midwife, as we were without a doubt okay to have this baby.

So back to this post.

It was the day after we had been told the above news by our doctor, and I think my initial excitement had disappeared and quickly turned to panic.

We are one thousand percent ready for a baby, however the timing couldn’t have been worse. I worked out that I would be due a few weeks before our wedding, and may things that we had already booked like our honeymoon, would have to be cancelled. I’ll admit now that these thoughts were selfish, and completely irrational, but it was just the initial shock that we were now having a baby that we were so upset that we couldn’t have, and the reality began to sink in…