Life is a rollercoaster...

To start at the beginning...

What a rollercoaster the last 5 months has been. My partner and I had always spoke about having children but the time never seemed right. Then one night a random conversation started about babies and suddenly we were talking about trying to conceive. We had always wanted to wait until the time was 'right' but that conversation made us realise that there probably would never be a 'right' time. We have been together over 7 years (now nearly 8), had just bought our first home together, both had good paying jobs that allowed us to lead a nice life - OK they arent in the professions we ultimately seen ourselves in but they paid the bills etc. So we decided to begin to try. I started taking prenatal vitamins straight away, went to the doctor for a check-up and visited the family planning clinic to have my contraceptive coil removed. We were ready to go!

It seemed like my body wanted a baby as much as my heart now did because within 2 weeks of having the coil removed we had conceived! I didn't even have time to have a period in-between. I thought it would take a few months as I had been on the coil for 7 years and thought it would take a while for my body to regulate - obviously not. We got our first positive pregnancy test really quickly too - at only 6dpo. We were over the moon! So excited that I couldn't stop testing - the thrill of that little line getting darker day by day was amazing. I finally stopped testing 2 weeks later when the line was appearing before the control line!

We were so excited and told immediate family almost straightaway. Our parents were just as excited as we were. For both sides it was going to be their first grandchild! I could barely stop my mum jumping up and down in excitement!

I'll be the first to admit, my pregnancy was not an easy one. I didn't 'bloom' in pregnancy instead from about week 7 I was diagnosed with Hyperemisis - I couldnt keep anything down not even water. But even that wasn't enough to stop our happiness, I may have been miserable and being sick constantly but we were still looking forward to our little one's arrival in a few months time and began to plan our new lives.

We were so excited that we couldn't wait until our 12 week scan to catch our first glimpse of our little one so we paid for a private scan at 8w+4 - and we both sat in awe as we seen that little bean appear on the screen with a strong beating heart. A few short weeks later we were seeing her again at our 12 week scan! She was jumping around, waving her legs and arms and looked so perfect (to us) but not so perfect to the sonographer who uttered those words I will never forget at the end of the scan 'I have some concerns about your babies development'. Our whole world came crashing down around us with those few words. She explained that our baby had something called a Cystic Hygroma at the back of her neck and her measurement for the NT fluid was well over the normal limit at 11mm (the normal being below 3). She went to get the consultant who confirmed the same. From then on I felt like my world stopped and some evil nightmare had taken over. This was something you read about happening to others - not something that could actually happen to us, right? Surely someone had made a mistake? Or this really was a nightmare and I was about to wake up and be happy again?

But there was no mistake, this was really happening - and it was happening to us. The consultant confirmed that the NT fluid was very abnormal. She told us that 70% of babies would test positive for a Chromosomal Disorder the main 2 being Downs and Turner syndrome. We agreed to a CVS test, not because it would change our minds on what to do with out little one but because I just had to know what was going on and if anything could be done to help her.

In the end I had to have 3 CVS tests because the first 2 did not get enough tissue sample for the lab to grow. The third test came back positive for Turner Syndrome.

For those that dont know Turner Syndrome only affects females, instead of their chromosomes containing 'XX' like a typical female they are single X or 'X0' - X-nothing, they have only one sex chromosome. This causes various problems including infertility and short stature but didnt seem the end of the world until we read that for some reaon the medical profession has not yet answered almost 95% of babies diagnosed with Turner Syndrome will miscarry.

Those statistics terrified us. We were offered a termination at that point but declined it - we had to give our baby girl a chance she so deserved. So we fought on, determined that our little girl could prove the doctors wrong and make it be with us.

The next few weeks felt like hell on earth. We went from being happy and excited parents to be to two people who were terrified beyond words. We were classed as a 'high risk' pregnancy and put under consultant care for the remainder. The consultants wanted to keep a close eye on our little girl so arranged for regular scans. The news we did not want to hear came at our 16 week scan. I could see this time for myself as soon as the scan started that it was not good news. The consultant confirmed that our little girls Cystic Hygroma had gotten much worse - it had went from 11mm to over 40mm in just a short few weeks, it was now all over her head and looked like she was wearing a helmet. She also had a build up of fluid in between her skin, I think this is called Edema and also fluid on her lungs - the doctors said this build up of fluid was known as Hydrops and babies with Hydrops have a 0% chance of survival.

How could this be happening to our baby girl? Our precious, much wanted baby girl who was going to be loved more than anything? Who had a whole family eagerly awaiting her arrival.

The consultants were lovely and still gave us options, they told us we could stop the pregnancy now or we could continue and let our little one pass away on her own time but made it clear that these were sadly now the only options and that she would not make it to birth. We were never going to hold our baby girl in our arms.

We went home to think about it overnight and I did some internet research determined to find a story similar to ours with a positive outcome. Instead all I found was the horrible outcomes - the 0% was upehld time and time again.

We came to the difficult decision to stop the pregnancy. I couldnt go on thinking about my precious little girl getting worse inside me. The doctors told us she was in heart failure and she was smaller than she should be because of the pressure of the fluid on her little body already. They couldnt answer me when I asked them if she was suffering but I didnt want her to go that way. As a mother I couldn't live knowing that my child could be suffering and I wasn't doing anything to help her.

So we went into the hospital the next day and were given the first tablet. We went home and returned to hospital 48 hours later on the 24th July 2011 where they began to induce me at 9:30am. Nothing much happened for most of the morning and early afternoon apart from beginning to feel uncomfortable. I was much calmer than I thought I would be. I think deep down I knew we were doing what we had to for our little girl. It wasnt fair to keep her going when she was suffering so much. I wished so hard that I could do something to make it different, I would have done anything to change things so that she could make it.

My waters broke later in the afternoon and the pain started soon afterwards. I was given diamorphine and it made me so woozy and so sleepy I felt out of it for the next few hours. I had the first lot at 5pm and by 8pm the pain was back so they gave me more. At 11pm they done an internal and told me they wanted me to try and push. They came back at 11:30 and I delivered my beautiful baby girl shortly afterwards into a bedpan on the bed because it was the only way I could push down properly.

They took her away and came back to try and delivery my placenta - but it was so far away and too well attached still to come away on its own. They started talking about taking me to theatre but in the end the doctor managed to remove it with forceps.

We got to see our gorgeous girl shortly afterwards. She looked so perfect - all fully formed and peaceful looking just so very very tiny. We named her Emily. I couldnt bare to look at her for long it literally broke my heart into tiny pieces so they took her away just after midnight.

The midwives were so lovely. The one who was there when I delivered even cried when Emily arrived. I dont know how they do their jobs. I just hope the good times outweigh the bad for them. They are truly angels. And made what was the worst day of my life so much more bareable.

I still dont quite believe she is gone and that this has all happened. I feel like I am in a daze most of the time. Our sweet baby girl that we wanted so very very much and were so looking forward to holding in our arms is gone and we will never get her back. Instead we are having to face life without her.

We were offered cremation or burial and opted for a burial because she was so small we wouldnt get any of her ashes back to scatter with a cremation so it felt more like a 'disposal' than a goodbye. At first I thought I wanted her in the shared baby garden at the cemetry but then when once I had made the arrangements with the funeral directors I paniced and we have now bought her a private lair where she can have her own headstone and little space for a garden. It is still in a part of the cemtetry that is only for babies and although I know in my head that she is not there and it makes no difference I still find it nice to think of her playing with the other angel babies and having friends.

Emily was buried on the 1st August 2011 in the Baby Garden at Linn Cemetery, Glasgow. Seeing that little white coffin was horrific and that image will forever be in my head. Our baby girl in a coffin before her life had even begun. How wrong!! I dont remember much of the day - I was so scared of not being strong enough to make it through that I think my natural defences took over and I spent the day in daze. I suppose thats natural, the bodies way of coping. I cant remember anyone around me or what they were doing - the only thing I was concentrating on was that tiny white coffin with my daughters name on it.

Walking away from her grave was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do. I was so torn. I didn't want to leave her there, alone in the ground but at the same time I couldnt stand to be there staring at her.

My mum read a poem at the funeral called Little Snowdrop -

The world may never notice
If a Snowdrop doesn't bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.

But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.

The little one we longed for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.

And though our arms are empty,
Our hearts know what to do.
For every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.

It says everything really.

I then read No Hello, No Goodbye

I never got to hear you laugh
you never saw me cry

Didn’t get a chance to say "Hello"
you never said "Goodbye"

I didn't think that I could feel
so sad, lost and forlorn

I never knew God chose his Angels
before some of them were born

Your life was short yet special
I shared it all exclusively

I felt you breathe, I felt you kick
you were alive inside of me

And although we are not together
we're not really apart

For you'll always occupy a space
deep within my heart

Time they say will ease my pain,
but every day now I cry

When I wish I could have said "Hello"
and heard you say "Goodbye"

Now the funeral is over with I feel lost. For 5 months I have been on a rollercoaster and I feel like now it is stopped - suspended upside down. The world is continuing on around me but I am just stuck here. For 5 months I have had something - getting pregnant, that initial excitement, the scan, the worry, the fighter for her to make it, the hoping, the fear, the worry, then devestation, trying to face reality, delivering Emily, saying goodbye, arranging the funeral, guilt, desperation... and now... well now there is just nothing. Nothing but hurt and loneliness. A world of sadness, a world that is too frightening to imagine.

Sometimes I feel so guilty and think I done the wrong thing - should I have just let her carry on and waited to see when she was ready to go? Did I make the decision because it was really best for her or was it because it was easier for me? Could I have done something different?

But its too late to question things now. My daughter is gone. I will never get to see her smile or hear her laugh and cry, never get to hold her or hug her. Instead I can only have her in my dreams. I visit a graveside with flowers and ornaments instead of singing my baby to sleep in my arms.

I long for her. I wish for her. I ache for her