Friday, 19 September 2014

Dinosaur sandwiches and toddler appetites

A while ago, my son decided that he didn't want to eat any more. He goes through phases and I try not to worry, they are usually related to teething pain. However sometimes it does go on and naturally as a parent, you worry! He wouldn't even eat his favourite sandwiches! 
I saw a dinosaur Kitchen Craft sandwich cutter in the local toy shop and bought it and to my amazement he gobbled the whole lot up! For a while the sandwiches HAD to be dinosaur sandwiches! haha. I think he is now a bit confused as when he has a "normal" sandwich now he calls it a dinosaur! 
Worth trying something fun if you can but I guess ultimately try not to worry they wont starve themselves! A good friend recommended a book called My Child Won't Eat (by Carlos Gonzalez) I haven't read it myself but heard lots of good things about it.

He is now 22 months and some days he just doesn't eat much at all and I can't help but worry, especially when it's just two mouthfuls of food THE WHOLE DAY! He always seems to drink his milk (morning and evening) so at least he has that. He ate loads and loads yesterday so I guess he is quite good at self regulating. Another good idea another friend recommended was a post on another blog about putting finger foods in an ice cube tray for example carrots, frozen peas, pretzels etc (blog is A Simple Toddler Lunch by BobbleHeadBaby if you're interested).

I would love to hear your tips and tricks for baby and toddler meal times for those days when I am internally screaming about the non-eating! Please leave any suggestions in the comments ;)

30 Something Mamma and the Dinosaur Sandwich.

Thursday, 18 September 2014

Moo Goo Skincare - first impressions

The wonderful Linda at Moo Goo UK sent me a beautifully packaged box of some skincare samples to try (on my 22 month old son), Jack's eczema. The box itself was so cute, and the packaging was very nicely done. There were several samples to try, and I tried the 'Irritable Skin Balm' straight away on Jack's poorly dribble-marked chin. 
It also came with a cute bath toy cow, which Jack instantly loved saying "moo cow, mummy!" and then proceeding to chew on it (teething at the moment!)
As it only arrived today this is a short post, as haven't managed to see the effects yet, but so far it's fab, I love the smoothness and the smell (not too strong) and Jack hasn't complained - which, with his eczema, is a good thing!!
We used the 'Milk Wash' in the bath tonight (we use no other bath products, except Weleda baby shampoo which is lush!) and Jack played with the cow in the bath. He didn't even want any of his other (many) bath toys tonight. 
We washed his hair, did his teeth and then washed his little face with the Moo Goo face wash. Again, no complaints! After his bath I applied the 'Soothing MSM Cream' to his body and popped on his PJs, ready for bed. He is now sound asleep (fingers crossed!) and a happy boy. He happily told Daddy when he got home that he had a bath with a cow!

I've been RUBBISH!

Oops haven't posted for three months. No excuse, but have sold my business, started a new job and dealing with family life. 
My new (school) year resolution is to write at LEAST three times a week, if not more! 
Today I received some lovely goodies from Moo Goo Skincare UK so will be writing imminently about that. The smell was divine, cant wait to try them on my eczema prone son's skin!! 

30 something mamma.

Tuesday, 10 June 2014


I like to think I am a sociable person, but this actually clashes with my shy-side of my personality too. I have always been fairly shy, and nervous when meeting new people, always worried that people would think I was stupid, or boring. I love my friends though and am so thankful to my son, who doesn't even know it yet, but through having him, he has helped me make some wonderful new, lifelong friends.

I was with my ex-boyfriend (before Paul) for almost 7 years, and throughout the relationship, I lost many friends. I was sucked into wholly being with him, and blew out some good friends from university along the way if he didn't want to come out too, I would rather have been with him. Then people just stop asking and before you know it, it's a lonely place. 

When I got together with my current partner, Paul, (the father to my son) I swore I would Never Loose Friends Again like that. It didn't make me happy. Paul is also very encouraging and suggesting I go out with friends whenever I can. Which is funny, as he is a very shy person and not the sociable bunny in the relationship ;) but he is lovely and supportive and knows I need my friends.

When I was pregnant, I realised I didn't really know anyone with children or anyone who was pregnant. I realised I had a lot of questions about pregnancy and so randomly one sleepless night (oh pregnancy insomnia how I do NOT miss you!) I was browsing Twitter and had the idea to search for pregnancy related hashtags. (for those who don't know what I am talking about, hashtags can be explained here: Twitter hashtag definition)

I soon found some mums-to-be both locally, and indeed, globally who I could share things with. It was lovely! I even met up with some local mums, and now one of these "Twitter friends" is one of my best friends, and our sons are good pals too. She has been there for me in so many situations and I am forever grateful that I decided to search Twitter that night.

I was on the hunt for other mums-to-be, and had heard of Netmums before via my job (children's entertainment) so I had a look on there. They have a "meet a mum" board, a bit like a weird (but safe) dating site! haha. You can post about yourself, and search for other mums in the area with kids the same age. Here I again found some now close friends. We chatted online whilst pregnant, and eventually met when Jack was a few months old (probably at least 4-5 months as couldn't walk etc for the first 3-4 months as per my last blog post).

Through Twitter and Netmums, I somehow ended up connecting with some of these mums on Facebook too and got invited to a local mums group on there. I loved how the internet could help with my plight, although unlike internet dating (which I haven't done so don't know how it really feels), didn't feel weird at all. Quickly, my circle of friends became bigger as we introduced each other to others, and the group expanded.

One of the mums, then set up her own group, and invited me to it, which I now admin and love the mums in it. It has been for me, and many others a life-support, a private place to vent, ask advice and generally be reassured that our babies our normal, and whatever god-awful stage of babyhood we are currently experiencing, it WILL pass! 

These friends I have met in person now, and had lots of baby playdates, mums nights out and just generally had the pleasure of connecting with, are honestly hands down my closest friends. I am so thankful that having my little bear, I have made some amazing friends, who I could not live without. I try to go to as many events as I can, as don't want to ever be that person again that people stop asking out, as "what is the point, they will just say no". I swore this to myself, and to Jack too, he has some lovely little pals, and I am so glad I have my friends too.

Toddlerhood however is a weird thing too. My circle of friends feels a bit unbalanced and Not Quite Right at the moment. I am in several "parenting" groups on Facebook, including some gentle-parenting groups, which have also been my lifelines. I don't think I am a hippy mummy, although some would label me thus. We don't do CIO or CC with Jack, we just don't. We don't tell him he is "naughty" or put him in time-outs. 

We (Paul and I) agree strongly on how we want to raise Jack and I am SO glad we are on the same page. Initially, we had a few differences, but I am so proud that Paul is such an advocate of rocking Jack to sleep, co-sleeping where needed etc. It melts my heart. He had a rant the other day about how he hates when people label children Jack's age as naughty, and I wholeheartedly agree. He is 18 months. He is not naughty. Paul said things like that are a self-fulfilling prophecy and he would not label Jack this way, and that he is too young to even comprehend what this means. I was so glad to hear him say this. (you can read more here: if you are interested)

I appear to have diverted somewhat, from talking about friends to our parenting style, but there is a loose connection somewhere, bear with me ;)

When we have newborns, mostly, parenting styles are fairly similar. They eat, sleep and poop. Not much else happens. Although you do also get judged for HOWEVER you choose to raise your child. If you breastfeed you are called names, if you formula feed, you are denying your baby something. Just give it up ladies, we are all struggling mummies and there is no right or wrong, your baby wont remember how you fed them! Ahhh. Sorry. Ranting. 

Since Jack has turned into this lovely, polite, sweet toddler I have become aware again of differences in parenting. Does it ever get easier? Do you ever really meet anyone who parents the same as you? No, of course not. 

Mummy-friends for me, are super understanding, usually non-judgemental and most of all know what you are going through. The most judgemental people I know, don't have children! 

If you are pregnant, or have young children, try and meet some new mum friends, either online or at local playgroups. There are loads of women out there who feel the same as you, and are just as shy. Just smile and say hi, you never know, they may become your new BFF.

Me with my mummies, out for dinner and drinks this year <3

Monday, 14 April 2014


This will be a very short post, I just wanted to try and unscramble my thoughts about the past week and the grief I have felt for a virtual stranger.
It has been a week since we learned of the news that Peaches Geldof passed away. I have not been able to get it out of my head, and have been so upset and dreamt about it a lot.
I followed Peaches on Instagram and Twitter as I am sure a lot of people did. She was so personable and as a mother myself, I felt a connection to her, especially as she parented in a similar way to me, being an advocate for Attachment Parenting - possibly made more "public" by her now famous debate on 'This Morning' with that god-awful woman Katie Hopkins (video here: for which she explains it very well. 

She was a likeable lady, and clearly a wonderful mother two her two adorable sons Pheadra and Astala. She uploaded lovely photos of her sons (and pets) proudly, and interacted with her followers. She just seemed like another one of my mummy friends, although we had not met in person.
I think the news hit me particularly hard, as it did many, as I am a mother. My son is approx 6 months younger than her oldest, and 6 months older than her youngest son. The thought of Jack being without me, at a young age, destroys me. How to you explain to two babies what has happened to their mummy? They have no concept of time, they only know their mum's comfort, especially as Peaches co-slept with her children. All I can visualise is those lovely boys crying for their mummy. I am sure all the mothers hugged their babies ever so more tightly last week and beyond. 

We should remember to always be grateful for what we have.

Rest in peace little one. My thoughts are with your family always. x

Tuesday, 18 March 2014


I've been thinking recently about time. It's a strange concept and Albert Einstein once said: "time is an illusion" - I quite agree. I am not going to go off on a tangent about time and does it exist, fear not! 

I wanted to write a new post as I realised I haven't written on my blog for a while, and it's been 6 weeks in fact. Six weeks since my last post
Which is 6 weeks since my miscarriage. 
That spiralled my thoughts into thinking down the route of "the baby would be 12 weeks or so now" etc and those important 12 week landmarks in pregnancy. About telling those we were expecting again, proudly showing the scan photos. It was not meant to be. I am no longer crying everyday, although it still hurts. 

I then started thinking about my pregnancy with Jack and the emotional upheaval after having him, and it dawned on me - I have been back at work a whole YEAR. Now, for those who are still on maternity leave, treasure every moment, and I am sure you do and will, because I still struggle with the guilt of having to work, and not being with my son every day.
I think for me going back to work so soon (Jack was just 4 months old!) was a horrid experience. I was not expecting to go back so soon, nor was I ready - physically or emotionally.

So, here is (I think!) my blog about my recovery, and what happened after birth... 
I had a really, REALLY bad experience after I had Jack. I had an episiotomy which didn't feel right. The following day after Jack was born I asked the midwives to check it out. I was told a stitch had been missed and I should stay in hospital to get it sewn up properly. 
I waited most of the day, in between admiring my gorgeous new baby, seeing visitors and having Jack's newborn checks, time passed quickly, but I was eager to get home. 
I was eventually told that I could go home and that it would heal ok by itself. At the time I must admit I was relieved, it was fairly sore 'down there' and I didn't fancy more stitches or poking around! 
However, a week or so at home, it really hurt and I felt it 'ping'. I was in agony and Paul called the Dr out to us. It had been really hard to sit down anyway, but I was expecting soreness! Breastfeeding Jack sitting in the nursing chair was tiring and sore on my bits. He fed for long periods at a time and in between fell asleep on me, so I felt like I was sitting a lot. Going to the toilet hurt too, Paul even offered to wipe my bum! HA! It must be love ;)
The Dr came out that night and said the stitches had burst. I was in tears as didn't know what this meant. He said it was infected too. 
We went to the walk-in clinic the next morning (and coincidentally got a parking ticket and they were going to tow my car! I HAD A TICKET too!) and they sent me to hospital. Jack also had some red crystals in his nappy, that looked like blood, and we were told that he was dehydrated. I felt like such a failure, was he not getting enough milk? I later found out that this is common in breastfeeding newborn babies and was in fact something else know as uric acid crystals or 'brick dust' especially when they are still just taking colostrum. I wish I had known this at the time. I was encouraged to give formula, against my better judgement. 

I went to the labour triage ward (not A&E) and they passed me onto the "fanny clinic" (not really called that obvs - it was the perineal clinic) and I was seen for several months after this there, as a weekly outpatient. I saw a fantastic lady called Yemi, and the Dr who delivered Jack too. 
The early visits are a bit of a blur to be honest, and I cant remember much. I was later diagnosed with Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as had such a traumatic recovery, and I believe that people with PTSD this is common to forget such events. 
In short, I was seen for several months there. 
I was initially told it would heal, but it got infected. 
I had loads of antibiotics and painkillers. 
I then was told that actually it would be better to operate and recut, restitch. I was in tears as had just (barely) managed to deal with it and it was ever so slowly becoming less painful. (still agony as you can imagine having a gaping hole down there!) The doctors assured me it would not go wrong again and they had done this with other women, and it would be better in the long term. I reluctantly agreed and at just three weeks old, Jack stayed at my mum's house so I could have this operation. 
I was knocked out and they began. 
I had the top episiotomy surgeon in the country on the case. They also had begun filming and documenting my recovery with photos and videos (with my consent, and not showing my face). Nice to know that somewhere my bits are on display for med students (I imagine!). Yay! Famous lady bits. 
When I came around I was in absolute agony, but my lovely Paul was there. They upped the morphine and gave me as much as they could without inducing a heart attack. 
Later that day they sent me home armed with painkillers galore and antibiotics to ward off any infections. 
It was horrendous. 
Can you even imagine how something simple like going to the toilet is when that has been operated on, sliced, stitched etc twice in a month? 
It was pure hell. 
I remember being so down at the pain and not knowing when it would end was horrid. 
I couldn't walk. 
Couldn't sit. 
Couldn't enjoy my new baby.

A few days later, I felt the infamous ping again and was in pieces. Paul rushed me to the clinic and Yemi called the Dr in. They both looked at me with a look of sadness and sympathy and very apologetic. They gasped how they couldn't believe it and how this shouldn't happen. But it had. 
I was hysterical and couldn't stop crying. It had happened again. The stitches had come undone again. Why me? I hadn't done anything apparently to do so. 
They suggested I see the Dr for "something to help me cope" without saying the word. I knew they meant crazy pills. 
They said they wouldn't redo it a third time unless I wanted them to, but that this time the stitches hadn't all come undone and should still heal ok. 
I was put on strict bed rest for a week. 
With a newborn who needed me. 
Good stuff! 

We didn't know what to do. I was literally hysterical. We went to the GP who immediately diagnosed me with PTSD and prescribed some Serazette. I said I was breastfeeding. Her answer? That I was more important than breastfeeding and that I needed this. Jack could have formula. Again I was told this. I was in such a dark place. I was battling so much guilt. 
I couldn't enjoy Jack, I was constantly in ridiculous agony and crying. Every time I sat to feed him it burned like nothing on earth. I had to pump my breast-milk standing up, as it was easier than sitting down to pump. 

This gorgeous little baby who needed me, so helpless, was being failed by the woman who should be helping him the most. 
It was the worst time of my life, and it should have been the best time. 

Paul's mother, who lives in Norfolk (we are in Surrey!) offered to have Jack for the week so I could rest. Paul was so supportive and urged me to accept the offer. By this point I was so deflated I just agreed. I am eternally grateful to Paul's mother and sister who looked after my tiny newborn that week for me so I could recover. I needed it. But it was also horrendous. 
Paul packed up the car that day, with all of Jack's things - his Moses basket, his clothes, nappies, pram. Everything. 
He drove off to Norfolk and came back later that evening, empty handed. The flat looked bare. It was like I dreamt the whole thing. I felt so empty. There was no sign of Jack in the house. Except for the physical pain I had.

I spent the week lying down, recovering and also following strict instructions to shower after every toilet trip. Then lie down and "air dry" my bits. So I basically spent the week on the loo, and naked, legs akimbo, whilst quaffing about 50 pills a day.
At the end of the week, Paul went to get Jack. 
I was scared. 
I felt awful and worried if he would even know who I was, and would he have abandonment issues. 
It was super shitty. 
I still couldn't sit etc, but at least I had the week to rest. 

It was almost Christmas by this point. I had lots of pain down there still and it felt funny. 
We saw the clinic again who said I had excess scar tissue. I had probably 1-2 months worth of weekly visits, sorting out said scar tissue. They did this by applying silver nitrate to the wound. Or "burning" it off. It bloody hurt. All the while they were still snapping photos. 

Christmas came and went, I couldn't sit down still. This was my darling son's first Christmas and to be honest, it was not a joyful affair. Paul wasn't with us as a family member of his was not well, so I was at my mum's with Jack, whilst Jack got passed around like a parcel and I just lay there, trying to sit, feeling inadequate. 
I had many questions about breastfeeding too from extended family members. It's funny how EVERYONE has an opinion on your children and how you bring them up. 
I know everyone meant for the best, but I still felt like I had failed Jack. 
We mostly formula fed now, but still breastfed too. Mostly in the evening or at night as it seemed to be the only thing that calmed him down. Booby snuggles.

I was told that by the New Year it should be healed. 
It wasn't. 
It took in total over three months before I could even walk without being in pain. 
For me that was three months too long. 
Three months wasted. 
Three months I could not enjoy Jack due to the immense pain and stupid thing. 

I was still very much needing to take sertraline. I do not take it any more, but without a doubt, I needed it at that time. It helped me just cope. 

I started enjoying motherhood around February/March 2013 and managed to even get out and walk with Jack. This was a huge deal for me as before this walking, sitting etc was a no go. Finally I had my baby boy.

Then I got the dreaded news from a work colleague that she was leaving to move up North. 
I literally felt the ground swallow me up. Panic set in. 
I forgot to mention, but when I saw the GP who diagnosed me with PTSD, she also immediately referred me to the mother and baby psych team. 
They were wonderful and came to me, at home weekly. I saw a fantastic lady called Roisin who was my lifeline in all of this, alongside the medication. 
When I saw her, I told her about the work news. The thing is, I HAD to go back. It was my own business. There was no-one else. Whilst I was ever so grateful to my colleague for running it whilst I was off, I was really upset and angry, she was also a friend, and I felt let down. We have since moved on but I was so shocked at the time that a friend would do this, knowing what I was dealing with. 
Roisin suggested upping the medication to help me deal with it. She also reassure me that ALL mothers struggle going back to work (although most go back after their babies are 1 year old - she didn't say that, but it's a fact). 
I also went to InJoy's Nurture group, which is a free, confidential space for mother's. Rozy, also saved me there. 
I spoke in depth (and in tears) about work and everything and how I shouldn't be angry, I should be thankful to my colleague. 
Rozy told me that I SHOULD be angry and upset, and it as normal to feel these feelings. 

Everyone was so lovely, yet nothing would help. I had to go back to work. I can't believe it's been a whole year back at work.

I would do ANYTHING to be a stay at home mum with Jack. It breaks my heart everyday. Or to at least have had what other mother's have and have longer at home. 

I started to resent my colleague for doing this to me, and also resented my own business. If I had any other job, I wouldn't have had to go back so soon. 
I was in such a dark place psychologically. 

Poor Jack with his adorable smile and loving nature would be taken away from me again. To this day, I still cry about it often. I don't know how to deal with it or get over it. 

It makes my blood boil when I hear SAHMs say they are "bored" - I would give anything to stay with my little man. How dare they say such slanderous things!?

The truth is, all mother's feel guilt at some point. I feel I have had my fair share with everything! 
When I found out I was pregnant recently, a lot of the above came flooding back. I was scared. 
I then had all the emotional upheaval of recognising and trying to deal with what happened before, when I had the miscarriage. 

I do not know what will happen if and when we have another baby, but I do not want to ever go through that again. 
I will certainly NOT be going back at 4 months with the second child either. It was too horrible. 

I don't know why I wrote such a long post, so thank you for baring with me and reading it. I guess I didn't realise how much I needed to write this all down. I cried writing a lot of it, bringing back a lot of negative feelings and bad memories. 
I didn't want my first three months of being a mother to have these feelings. But I do. 

I look at my gorgeous 16 month old son now with such pride. He is such a loving little boy, always giving cuddles and love to everyone, even the cats and I know I must have done something right somewhere.

Jack (two weeks ago, before his first haircut!)

Tuesday, 4 February 2014


This is going to be hard to write so soon, but it seems to be therapeutic for me. I hope it doesn't offend anyone. 

Yesterday, I became a statistic. and it broke my heart. 

Did you know, 1 out of every 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage? I was that one. 
This will be an emotional post, as it is so raw but I am struggling with my emotions and everything and want to curl up and cry. 
I cant do that. 
I have a 14 month old son to look after, as well as myself.

We found out only last week that we were expecting our second child together. We had mixed emotions and lots of heart-to-heart talks as Jack is still so young, and we were looking to expand our family in around 6 months, not quite yet, but nonetheless we were both happy with the news. We had just got our heads around it, and the logistics. We hadn't told our families yet, although I had told a few close friends, despite how early it was in the trimester. 
I knew I was pregnant before I did the tests (plural!) as had the same symptoms as I had with Jack early on. Nauseous, exhaustion and dizziness. I was also late on my period, but they have been so random and sporadic anyway since having Jack.
Silly things made me panic - "ahh I will need a double buggy, Jack wont quite be two." Then the whole emotional aspects of pregnancy, birth and recovery came flooding back. I don't want the same recovery again! Paul was insistent that I would have a C/S this time after what happened before, and we would also try another hospital for this baby. 
Things were panning out, and I was looking forward to breastfeeding again, but with all the knowledge I now have of things like latch, tongue tie and the whole range of things you don't know the first time. 
The days went on and I was feeling very rough and tired. I wasn't sure how I would cope with two under two! But we would. 
Paul was very chilled and supportive. As always.

However, on Saturday (it is now Tuesday) I had some light spotting. No biggie, I had this with Jack - lots. I didn't panic, and didn't go to the doctors. I went to work and all was well, but I was still bleeding. which was a bit uneasy for me. I did another pregnancy test to ease my mind. Still preggo. Yay! 
That night I had cramps like period pain and more bleeding. This wasn't going away. I woke up Sunday very tearful as I was hungry and didn't feel sick at all. I had no appetite previously and was super nauseous so I knew something wasn't right. 
I also knew that it was a Sunday and nothing can be done if you got to A&E or hospital with bleeding as there scans are not in use on a Sunday. We had been there, done that with Jack. I rode it out, all the while hoping it would be ok and our little bean would be fine. I knew deep down it was more than spotting. 
I asked Paul to take Monday morning off work and come to the EPU at St George's in Tooting. They have a fantastic morning walk-in clinic that is open 08:30 - 11:00 for pregnant women. You can go and self refer and don't need a letter from your GP, and in all honesty, your GP will just send you there anyway. They are lovely there and you wait to be seen and have an internal ultrasound. 
Paul was always saying it would be ok, it would be Nothing, it's the Same As We Had Before. I knew it wasn't.
After around 1 hour of waiting, I got called into have my scan. They poked around and then I knew it wasn't ok as she never said all is good, here is your baby. She called another specialist in. She then said I am sorry there is no pregnancy in the womb. we need to check around to see if we can see anything else. I burst out crying, as did Paul and he held my hand. I lay there sobbing, with Paul stroking my head, knowing things were about to turn to shit whilst they scanned internally, poking and asking where it hurt. My bowels were obscuring their view and they needed to do a blood test to see if I had an ectopic pregnancy. This is when the egg attaches in the fallopian tube, which, if left untreated can be fatal. 
I can honestly say, this was the worst time of my life. I was so glad Paul was with me, although I wanted to comfort him too. 
I had my blood test as they explained what had happened, and yes, I had lost the baby. I was approx 6 weeks pregnant, so thankfully it wasn't too far into the pregnancy, but still I mourned over what would have been. I know at this early stage, the baby is tiny. about the size of a lentil. I have found out that although it was this tiny, it had early features - a head, dark spots where eyes and nostrils will form, ears are marked and buds are formed that will grow into the arms and legs...still tiny but growing.  
This still does not take away that we were already looking forward to having another and both scared and excited about it. Whilst we waited for the blood tests results (approx 1 hour) Paul rang my mum to tell her. We hadn't even told her (or Paul's family) that I was pregnant yet. And he had to call her to not only tell her I was pregnant, but had a miscarriage. 
I got the blood tests back and was told "great news it's not ectopic!" she then apologised, for saying great news. But I understood from a medical point of view what she meant. She then handed me a leaflet on 'Early Pregnancy Loss'. From a huge stack of them in her office. That made me really sad, that they had such a large stack, and clearly had to hand them out quite often. I was reminded of becoming a statistic as she told me it wasn't my fault, 1/4 end this way, and why. I just wanted to get out of there. We went to the pub and had a drink. I had two nice G&Ts and we tried to think positive. Although it was really shit.
I already hate the term "lost the baby" - it implies I dropped it, I lost it, it was my fault. I have been struggling ever since to be honest,  and every sympathetic hug, or look or "are you ok?" sends me spinning. 

I came home to my lovely little boy, who came walking over exclaiming "mamma!" and giving me a huge kiss. I am forever grateful for having him, and we still hope to have another child. Although I will be such a paranoid mum-to-be next time, about any bleeding and cramping. 

I have the doctors this afternoon, this appointment was already booked for me to discuss my antenatal care. Now I have to tell her what happened instead. That I am no longer with child. That I am now just crying and in pain. And don't know what to do or say.

The nurses at St George's said I would bleed for around 2 weeks probably and to take painkillers for the cramping. This is the worst part for me. I am bleeding a lot. Every toilet trip I see more blood and cry again. I don't want to see this. A cruel reminder as to what happened. As are the cramps. Every twinge I think I hate you. Please stop hurting me. I want to feel ok, be ok. I don't want sympathy. I just want this to stop.