It’s quite a taboo subject and in some respects has always been (still unsure why), but today it was publicised that Meghan Markle released a post in the NY Times that she had suffered a miscarriage in July of this year. I read the article and felt instant pain for my five baby losses that I’d had over the years and I still wonder why I was told; ‘It happens every day,’ and that; ‘one in four pregnancies end in loss’. I had almost forgotten life back than and dealing with life after miscarriages.

The first one was hard, I was eleven weeks gone and had no idea what was happening to me. I cried relentlessly wondering what I had done to implicate this, blaming myself for lifting something or not drinking enough water. It was natural they said, you will blame yourself but there is nothing you can do. They didn’t tell me what I could do though. It was my mum that came to my aid, she held me and told me that it’s happened and nothing I could’ve done would have avoided this. She had been through this, having many miscarriages before she fell pregnant with me and that was back in the seventies.

The second one was more of a shock because I hadn’t known I was pregnant, it wasn’t until I was bleeding (realising it wasn’t my time of the month) that I realised what had happened. I then had to go through the awful thing of taking a pregnancy test and seeing it positive but accepting that I had been pregnant for seven weeks but then miscarried.

The third, fourth and fifth were all within eighteen months.

I had started to think that maybe it wasn’t meant to be, we were married and trying for a family. It was hard seeing all my friends around me falling pregnant and having their own families and I actually cried myself to sleep wondering if it would ever happen on many occasions, I threw myself into being the best Auntie to my niece and nephew and we treated them as our own. I thought at one stage this could be the closest we’ll get to having dependants.

We started a plan B and both decided that we were going to try properly with dates and working out ovulation dates (which completely ruined the ‘moment’ which I’d expected) and both of us taking hormonal vitamins, but we both desperately wanted a family. I fell pregnant after a few months, delighted but still wondering if this was going to actually happen. Unfortunately at the scan the nurse told me there was no heartbeat and I felt numb. I that was close to having a family and it was taken away before I’d even accepted it.

We had a year of not thinking about babies which was hard, we tried to live as a married couple with no ties. We were having three to four holidays a year, out most weekends with friends and family. We were entertaining friends or going out with friends, most Friday nights we would go out just the two of us for dinner somewhere.

I’m surprised we had any money at all, and friends were settling down and we were just going out more and booking holidays. People were commented on how lucky we were to have so many holidays, but we would just smile but later say to each other, “they don’t realise how lucky they are to have children.” It was all we ever wanted, to be parents.

On one of those evenings out just the two of us I brought the subject up and asked what he wanted to do, “What do you want to do, this is your body.” With tears in my eyes I told him I couldn’t live with myself if I’d not even given IVF a go. “I cannot not try IVF, we will always wonder…”

Plan C was then put into place, we were going to try IVF and if it didn’t work out then we were going to sell our house and buy a smaller place near town and live like a couple with no ties.

The following year I was walking around pregnant, I had got to fifteen weeks pregnant and still thought I could have a miscarriage even though the clinic said to not worry. This was how much of an effect it had on me, every time I moved and all the times I ate or drank anything I wondered what affect it would have on my baby. As we went privately and because of our history I was having scans every month, it wasn’t till they told me that I was twenty two weeks that I finally relaxed and it sunk in that we were actually going to be parents. Tears of relief continued for about a week, sometimes when I was looking in the mirror I would tell myself I was pregnant and tears would just stream down my face at the pure joy of it.

At twenty eight weeks William was born. I know, a bit early, twelve weeks early and he was a healthy two and half pound baby (well healthy for that early anyway). Haven’t looked back since, because my miracle had arrived.

Although today, when I was listening to the radio and hearing them talk about miscarriages, it brought it all back. I worked out that the ages, they would’ve been 18, 10, 9, 8 and 6, I started to wonder what they’d be like and stopped myself. I stopped myself because I thought ‘Actually William happened and he is the best thing that has ever happened, so why am I wondering about what could’ve been when I have him?’

I do still light five candles every year on 10th October and think of my rainbow babies.