Hello ladies,

I'm new to this forum, having recently lost our first child. I feel the need to share our story and hope you will indulge me.

It's been two weeks since I last felt my son kick, a a week and a half since I was told he had passed, a week and a day since he was born, and a day since we watched his little coffin descend to be cremated.

We'd tried for a year to conceive, and after a laparoscopy that diagnosed and removed endometriosis, I fell pregnant straight away. We were thrilled and surprised, considering the doctor had told us to go onto IVF (which was a difficult prospect to deal with) and my husband was working away from me, and we only saw each other once that month. It seemed quite strange after all those months of trying!!!

My joy soon turned to fear as I felt pains and was concerned the pregnancy was ectopic. Blood tests and an ultrasound confirmed this was not the case, however then from researching I discovered my progesterone was very high, and was then worried it was molar... when we had a 7 week ultrasound and saw the little heartbeat we were so happy, but were still terrified of miscarriage till we hit the 12 week mark. That day came and I was happy. This was short lived as I had two bouts of bleeding. The doctor did an ultrasound though and all was well, and we saw our baby sitting up waving his arms and it was magical.

From then on I had a textbook pregnancy, and the 20 week ultrasound was perfect, though my placenta was low. We were so happy, it was a wonderful, magical time. I went away on a two week course and on the first Friday, noticed it had been a few hours since baby had kicked. I felt a couple of small kicks and was relieved. These were to be the last I felt. I went to my parents' house on the weekend, already concerned at the lack of movement. This concern increased as time went on. It was compounded by the fact my sister and brother and his family were also there- my sister also pregnant and 4 weeks ahead of me, my brother with his two little girls. My poor husband was at home with some friends who were staying with us, the wife also pregnant with a boy about the same age. I called the hospital and spoke to a midwife who said this was not unusual for a baby of 22 weeks. I was reassured, as I'd not been able to get hold of my doctor. I went back to my course.

The Monday Alec called the doctor who said to get the doppler on, and it was likely all was fine. I went to the medical centre on base (I'm in the military) and the kind doctor went through the paces, but all he could hear was my heartbeat. He went away to arrange an ultrasound while I called Alec, who tried to be strong for me but was also terrified. He came back and said one was arranged in about 4 hours time. He then told me to prepare myself, things did not look promising. It was then I lost it. I spent the next few hours in the ward, just waiting for time to go by, crying, terrified. The time came and they took me. The operator said she hoped to give me good news. I watched the screen and saw a round figure which I saw her label, one letter at a time, 'chest'. I saw no heartbeat and asked her, she said no.

Time after that was a blur, though mercifully Alec was able to squeeze himself on the last flight out. I waited for him, crying. When he arrived we held each other.

I was induced a few days later, though after only a few hours, one emotionally painful contraction and then the mercy of pethadine, an exam confirmed I had full placenta praevia and I went into surgery. I lost a litre of blood and was dozey for the rest of the day. Alec told me that the doctor said he was perfect, a beautiful boy. I slept on and off thinking of seeing him, wanting to but apprehensive. Finally that evening we asked to see our son. The nurse brought him in, and Alec picked him up and cried, saying it was the closest he's ever come to him. Then we both held him, took pictures. It seemed so surreal, looking back I was in shock and dulled from morphiene. I can't believe I didn't cry when I was with him, I cry so easily. The next day I went home, my mother arrived and they took care of me. Those few days are a blur, but that night I felt my breasts start to harden, and when I woke up they were hard and sore. It didn't seem fair, there was no baby to feed, just a painful reminder. On the Monday Alec and I went and bought a tree for Edward, a beautiful weeping Japanese Maple that was bright red, which we would place his ashes under.

Two days ago we went to the funeral home to prepare Edward. He had gotten smaller, I was shocked when I saw him. I felt like telling the funeral lady that this wasn't the way he really was, he was more beautiful that what you could see. We wrapped him in a bunny rug and blanket his father had bought for him and placed him in his tiny coffin, with flowers from the garden and some of the leaves from the maple, as well as a teddy bear. I held him and cried so many tears over his tiny body. Alec read to him a letter we had written, saying all the things we wanted him to know.

The next day we went back. I held his coffin as we travelled to the crematorium and placed him. We again said our words of love, that he would always be in our hearts. Then we watched him descend out of sight.

Sorry this is so long ladies, it feels like I need to tell the whole story. So far it seems I've written without much emotion, I'm sure you appreciate that I feel so much and so deeply regardless. All the plans we made seemed so certain, I now feel like I'm floating with no direction. We have moments where we smile and things feel ok, and I feel like I can continue some semblance of life, but then soon enough the tears come back. Alec returns to work next Monday, and although Mum and Dad are coming down for a few days, soon enough I know I will be on my own, and it scares me. I think about our little boy and don't know how I can handle the anniversaries, the dute date and the 'meant to bes'. So many of our family and friends are either expecting or have new babies, and I can't understand why they all have no problems and our baby passed away. I accept that there is probably no cause for Edward's death, and that we are simply unlucky. But we didn't know this kind of thing happened, and for all my worry at the beginning about problems, in the end it was all fruitless, and it was something I didn't even know about that took out baby away. I do find comfort know that other women experience this, and am grateful you're all here to show me that, though of course I wish none of us were in this situation.

I want to do our son the honour of living our lives to the full as he couldn't, of honouring his gift to us of greater love for each other and for him, and of not taking for granted the gifts we have. For all our pain and loss, I am so grateful that I was able to be his mother and experience his little body inside me. We want to have a little brother or sister for Edward soon, though I know I'll be terrified the entire time. It seems particularly cruel that our first was taken, our house is still without children and there is no-one to care for.

I would appreciate any advice anyone has for me, regardless of how relevant!!! Your experiences of pregnancy after loss would be particularly precious.

For my baby boy, Edward Thomas. You'll always be in our hearts.