My husband and I had been together for nearly 10 years and spent those years pursuing our career dreams and enjoying each other's company.
When we got married in November 2012, we made the decision to try for a baby the following October - giving ourselves some time to get used to the idea and plan how we would manage financially etc.
As they say about 'planning' things in life, it didn't quite work out that way.
I wasn't enjoying my job and started looking for somewhere else to work, so babies took a back seat, and really stopped factoring in our mindset.
So, in July 2015, when I couldn't stand to eat anything other than bread and cheese and realised I was 7 days late, I took a pregnancy test. It was positive. We stared at one another in a beautiful state of disbelief.
I fell in love with my future for the first time in years.
My pregnancy was not an easy one. I was constantly cramping and had morning sickness. I got used to it, and convinced myself that, because there was no bleeding, everything was fine. I talked to my baby and reassured them that I was taking care of them.
Then, on the bank holiday Friday in August I found I had started to bleed. We rushed to the hospital and I was asked to provide a urine sample and then left in the waiting room for two hours. Eventually a doctor arrived with a scanning machine and I was called in.
I was three days from 12 weeks, and as the doctor scanned me, she asked how far along I thought I was. I told her - and her cold response was merely 'I don't think so. There's the yolk sac, and here's the amniotic sac.'
I didn't realise at the time, but it was empty. She didn't explain that the fetus had not developed. I was just told to go home and let nature take its course.
And boy, did it! Having no idea what nature was going to do to me, I carried on blindly. It all started with a vengeance on the Sunday and by 1am the following morning I was in an ambulance heading to a&e.
You see, although the baby hadn't developed to 12 weeks, the sac had.
Sadly for me, it was a bank holiday and the a&e was understaffed. I was left without any painkillers and soaked in blood for 12 hours before I was transferred to the ward.
I had no scans or investigation - in fact when I asked for painkillers, I was told they couldn't give me anything too strong as it would harm the baby - I kid you not.
The following day I had an internal examination and it confirmed the miscarriage. I then had the remaining 'product' removed on my hospital bed with no painkillers and sent home without so much as a 'here are some leaflets that might help'.
I sank into a very deep state of despair.
Before, babies hadn't really factored in my life, and now that I want one my body refuses to cooperate.
My story is yet to have a happy ending, baby wise - but I'm hoping it will happen one day. I know my story isn't the most positive, but I really believe that women who miscarry are done a disservice.
I was fobbed off on my first trip to a&e, left in abject pain the second time and then had what is technically a surgical procedure whilst fully conscious in my hospital bed.
I just wish I'd known more about what was happening to me, so that I could have been my own advocate and demanded what was owed to me. Appropriate treatment and respectful care.
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