Where to start.. For me taking part in the London Marathon has always been something I have wanted to do ever since I was around twelve years old. Watching it every year on the television saying to myself one year I'm going to do that.. Fast forward to April 2023 when my husband Harry took part in it, I figured I'm only getting older.. time to put my big girl pants on! 

More to the point... what's better than to do it for a charity!  Looking at places for the one charity that helped me mentally when I was struggling everyday and was suffering with a loss and the feeling of failure.. 'The Miscarriage Association'

Not everyone knows my story and some would say this is an over share.. But here goes...

In August 2017 my husband and I welcomed our first child, Olivia into the world via an emergency C-section. Olivia was healthy and that's honestly all that mattered to us both. 

Following Olivia's birth we started trying for baby number two in the new year, 2018. This seemed far harder than I remembered and with it came lots of tears, a whole load of pregnancy tests, visits to see several medical professionals and uncertainty.

After a painful two years of trying to conceive naturally I was convinced something was wasn't right. Almost two years later in December 2019 I fell pregnant. This was also the same time that Covid '19 was first discovered and the world was going into a new way of life but we didn't know it yet.  

Midwife appointment done and twelve week scan booked for 12th March. 

On 10th March 2020 I woke and started my day just as any other day.. had a shower, got dressed, woke Olivia and headed down stairs to give her breakfast before Nursery. But the morning quickly changed.. 

Phone calls were made to the hospital and they advised me to go into A&E immediately. Not wanting to go on my own fearing the worst Harry rushed back from work to take me. Harry and I sat in the waiting area in A&E for what felt like the whole day.  The hardest part of this process was that because I was only 12 weeks pregnant it wasn't considered to be an emergency despite (in my opinion) our baby's life being at stake. 

After a few hours of waiting in the A&E department we were finally allowed to go through to the pregnancy wing. Tests were done and then we had to wait again for a couple of hours in a waiting room on the ward. Sadly we weren't the only people sitting in that waiting room.. some women were alone and heavily pregnant others had a partner with them but the room was silent. We could hear every conversation the nurses were having in the corridor and I was constantly praying they weren't talking about our case. 

Once we were called through by the doctors they scanned my stomach to see our baby and all seemed well. I was advised to go home and rest and not worry with the 12 week scan only being two days away they would see me again then.  

Further issues continued over the two days. With the start of anxiety that I had never had before. 

12th March 2020 came and we headed to the hospital for the twelve week scan. The news was revealed that despite there being a baby true to size expected for twelve weeks, there was no heartbeat. The emotions that follow after receiving news like that are so over whelming that I actually can't describe. Emptiness. Loss. Numb. What did I do so wrong?! Immediately I put this blame on myself. Being an arable and sheep farmer I blamed myself for getting too close to the sheep, working on the tractors being bounced around on the seat, strenuous work that maybe I shouldn't have been doing. Who knows..

We were given time in a private room and leaflets to read