(Trigger warning: worry about a potential miscarriage)

At five weeks pregnant, I start cramping very badly.

I know what cramps in pregnancy feel like, I know the pulling and stretching sensations, I have felt it plenty when I was pregnant with Freya. I have never felt this though. It lasts for a few hours, then fades. The next day it comes back even stronger. Then again the next.

Eventually I ring the hospital. I’m not bleeding, but it hurts so badly that at times I can barely stand up straight. They are worried that it might be an ectopic pregnancy (where the embryo implants somewhere other than the uterus). That can be a serious medical emergency, so I’m told to come in for a scan even though it is so early that they might not see anything at all. Jo goes with me, and we both worry all the way there.

The doctor performs the scan and finds a dark spot on the screen. A baby, or what will perhaps become one. Only one. We are so relieved that we don’t really consider or grieve the fact that it might have been two until later. We just hug in the hallway. It’s okay. We’re okay.

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When we transferred the embryo that would become Freya it was joyous and exciting. When we tried last time (and failed) it was anxiety-inducing and difficult. So this time, Jo and I both made a huge effort to remain calm, to let it all seem easy, and to trust in the universe.

Jo even received permission from the clinic to come with me for the transfer! I was incredibly happy to hear it. Jo’s parents were going to come meet us in London and take care of Freya while we were both in the clinic, and then… *deep sigh* You can guess where this is going, right? They tested positive for covid and weren’t able to meet us. Ugh! Only the second time in TWO YEARS that we could see them, a transfer that would mean so much to me to have Jo there… Yeah, not happening.

BUT we decided to not let it devastate us.

Jo, Freya, and I all went out to lovely restaurants, we went to playgrounds, we took it easy and tried to laugh and enjoy.

And yes, when the time came I walked all alone to St. Paul’s and into my clinic once more. I tried to think as positively as possible though. I am so grateful for our little family and there are so many wonderful things and people in my life. One moment of loneliness does not define me or this experience of trying for a child. I kept a mantra in my head, “I cherish what I have, and delight in what could be.”

I had also come very prepared with something to read on my phone to pass the time, Jo had written me a card that I could only read once inside the clinic, I was ready to spend a long time simply being calm and accepting. And then I walked in and…

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