Last year, at the beginning of the global pandemic, I discovered I was pregnant. A massive shock, 4 children already and a house bursting at the seams, not to mention the added pressure of the additional needs my children have.

But there was never a question or doubt that baby number 5 wouldn’t fit, or was too much. I was excited and couldn’t wait to share the news.

But then we went into quarantine, scared of covid and the implications it had for Jack and us as a family. It was easy to hide my growing belly because we didn’t see anyone. Easy to hide the fact I wasn’t smoking or drinking, that I was eating all the right food, keeping myself as healthy as I could.

In April we lost my nana. Unexpectedly. I wanted to hug my mum, my sister, my aunties and my cousins but I couldn’t - I couldn’t put my baby at risk. I thought it was the hardest thing I’d do that year, stay away from everyone I loved. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

In May I had my 20 week scan. I missed my first scan (because of covid). It was the first scan with any of my kids that I had to attend on my own (because of covid) but I wasn’t worried. I was planning on getting extra scan photos so I could give some to my mum and dad, tell them they’d be grandparents for the 11th time. I couldn’t wait to share the news with my friends. Show off my beautiful baby.

I remember the look on the sonographers face as she moved the wand over my belly. I’d seen that look before. With Jack. But nothing could have prepared me for her words.

“I’m sorry, your baby doesn’t have a heartbeat”

I told her she was wrong, it wasn’t possible, how could my baby be dead and I don’t know. Stupid woman didn’t know what she was doing. Another doctor was called. She said the same thing. And that’s when everything changed. When my world fell apart and my heart broke beyond repair.

I gave birth to Cariad the next day.

On my own.

In the toilet of a hospital room.

She was perfect. 10 tiny fingers and 10 tiny toes. The most perfect little nose and eyes that never opened.

I held her. I sang to her. I told her how sorry I was that I couldn’t protect her. And then I had to leave her. Instead of bringing a baby home all I had was a little box with her footprints and photos. And so many unanswered questions. But most of all, Why?

In June we had a funeral for Cariad.

In October 2020 I got my answer in the form of Cariads autopsy report. Cariad had Downs Syndrome. She had died a few weeks before my scan but my body didn’t know. It’s termed as a ‘missed miscarriage’.

October 2021 would be Cariad’s first birthday. I should be planning a party, buying presents and cake. Instead I have nothing.

But I can’t let her birthday pass without doing something. So, throughout October, I will be cycling 150km. I’d love to do it on a real bike but I’ll fall off so it’ll be on an exercise bike at the gym. I want to raise money for 2 charities in Cariad’s name - Aching Arms charity who support families who have suffered miscarriage and also Downs Syndrome Association. Now 150km might not seem much to some but for me this is a massive target.

Cariad wasn’t with me for very long. But I had hopes and dreams for her future. And even tho she isn’t physically here she will always be a part of my family and I think of her every day and wonder about the little person she would be.

If you can help me, by sending me supporting messages or donating £1 I would be so grateful.

I will always talk about Cariad with love and pride. My 5th child. My angel baby.