I had a blood test at the hospital on Monday morning then went to Holborn to hand in my assessment at college. By the time I got there I was in labour and got a taxi right back to the hospital. I wasn't particularly worried at this point, well I was worried that I wasn't ready for the baby to come cos I didn't have a buggy or car seat to get him home from the hospital, but not for a second did I think there was anything wrong.
I got there and they did a scan and said that his heartbeat wasn't as strong as they would have liked so he would probably have to be born right then. I phoned my husband and he started his way there but he works at the other side of London so would be at least an hour. They whisked me down to labour ward and got the theatre ready for an emergency c-section but the consultant did a further scan and concluded that it was too late.
I don't remember much from that point. I remember trying to phone my mum and not being able to say it. I had to get the Dr to tell her. She got them to bring in her friend who's a midwife at the same hospital and she got there before my husband.
He tells me that he was hoping that he'd turn up at the hospital to his baby but had a terrible feeling that it had all gone wrong.
Both our mums managed to get there for the next morning so they saw him before we let him go.
In the immediate aftermath I didn't sleep for 5 days. Not until I was given sleeping pills.
I don't know how I'm still alive to be honest. I didn't feel alive for months. I still don't sometimes but I find that life has a way of finding the chinks and making you feel. Even if you don't want to.