So.. it's been over a year since I've updated the blog. My bad, sorry!

My world imploded and I had trouble just staying alive - quite literally.

My twins both died. I'm still very straight about that...They didn't pass, join God or become angels - they died.

Twin A died inside me. No warning or sign, I went for a normal check up and only 1 heart was beating on the scan. I contracted scarlet fever during my pregnancy and have no idea whether that made a difference or not, but will always wonder.

6 days later my waters broke at just 15 weeks. I had cramps and was rushed to the hospital.  Both my girls were born at 15+2 weeks gestation. Twin B was alive in my arms for 12 minutes but too small and fragile for the medical team to help.

I endured another cremation and am still dealing with the compound grief.

The actual staying alive being tricky thing.... That's due to pregnancy induced cardiomyopathy. My heart struggled under the pressure of being pregnant and is permanently damaged. I also had a mini stroke or transient ischemic attack and a pulmonary embolism due to clotting issues exacerbated by pregnancy. I was in quite a state. To be honest I still am in quite a state. I'm working on just staying sane and as healthy as I can be.

It's hard... The whole damn shooting match is hard. I miss my children everyday with every fibre of my being and I miss my health. It's unlikely I'll ever be well enough to attempt pregnancy again. I haven't decided yet whether or not I'll try again anyway. My last pregnancy really took it's toll.

I've found some solace in working to support other grieving women, and their families, as well as education of pregnant women and their families. I'm not sure what the way forward is... Right now I'm treading water, in circles, living without my children - everyday.

My world has been crashing around my ears since the middle of June, please excuse the continued radio silence.

On 16th June I found out, via the very funky Materniti21 test direct from San Diego, that I was having two genetically healthy baby girls. Elation - girls, pretty dresses and hair bobs - fear - my last daughter died....what happens if these 2 die?

Holding on to the fact that I was doing okay - still in pain with my hips and struggling with nausea and vomiting on a daily basis but doing okay, and I was going to have 2 babies, then another blow came in the form of a set of blood test results. I had started to produce auto antibodies to my own heart! Not a single Dr, Nurse or Midwife could keep their poker faces - I knew I was in big trouble. The rush into the cardiologist, in under 24 hours, confirmed that.

The cardiologist - one of the only "ologists" I haven't worked with so far in my complicated medical history - was kind and softly spoken. He told me that I needed to be extremely careful, no lifting, no exertion, lots of rest, no stress, no caffeine. Easy I thought. He went on to confirm that my heart was already under huge pressure, and now under attack too. If I exerted myself I was likely to experience abnormally fast and possibly uncontrollable heartbeat, shortness of breath, dizzy spells and fainting as well as generally feeling rubbish. Yep, officially scared some more!

My new "ologist" appointment was also the day of my 12 week scan. Yippee I thought - I'll get to see what my 2 girls look like. I hung on to that for dear life. Had long chats with friends about my girls and told anyone who would listen, still trying to get positive and excited. Of course 2 girls need names. So I set myself that distraction from the sheer panic about my heart.

Then 21st June, at 13 weeks pregnant, I collapsed at a friends house. Out of the blue - I wasn't feeling poorly or unwell I was just sitting on the floor chatting, went to get up and then fainted. At the hospital it was confirmed that I had a very rapid heart rate and my heart was struggling with just the day to day demands of growing 2 babies. I still had 15 weeks to my planned cesarean section. That was a scary prospect.

Today I need to vent and scream and tell everyone how I feel.... trouble is I've been on my own all day.

All alone that is apart from the blessings in my growing stomach. Yep, blessingS - with an 's', in the plural. The miracle science that is IVF has blessed me with two babies.

I'm doubly scared but doubly excited, doubly sick and doubly tired but also looking forward to double the love and hugs.

I'm very tired and have lost a further 12lbs since my last blog so the HG is still very much active and the babies seem to be growing at some rate. I have quite a tummy already, at just 11 weeks pregnant.  From my last ultrasound everything looks fine, and the twins seem to be in separate  amniotic sacs so likely to be non identical twins although testing later on will confirm that, or not.

I'm already having a lot of pain in my hips and low down in my abdomen which is sometimes helped by a uber sexy white elastic support belt, but is not helping to a lay the fear that I battle on a daily basis. The fear that something will go wrong and one or both of my babies will die.

Some of my most supportive friends are excitedly asking how I'm doing and when my next appointment is. I try to excitedly answer them but I feel as if I'm going through the motions. Desperately trying to sound convincingly happy.

It's far too late to talk about 'not becoming attached' to the twins. I'm attached - taking weekly bump shots and keeping a personal journal with my letters and thoughts to them, but it's like a suspended reality - so hard to completely embrace for fear that what is left of my soul will be completely destroyed by not one, but two more deaths.

I'm trying to remain positive, after all one of my previous pregnancies never got this far. I can hope.  I am hopeful and I am sure that if I get to hold two beautiful babies in my arms it will all have been worth it.

I hope any of you reading this and travelling a similar path are able to embrace moments of your pregnancies and capture them .... Then as time goes on find more and more moments to embrace.  Right now I'm embracing telling you all about my twins. 2 babies. How lucky am I?

Today was a hard day, but it has inspired me to come back to blog.

I've been busy keeping myself safe and grounded in the last few weeks. I have to. Right now, at this point in time,  I'm   pregnant.  I'm 8 weeks and 4 days pregnant. Today I was at the hospital where I gave birth to my daughter last September. That magical science worked it's spell on me, again, I am so very lucky and also very scared.

It was so very hard to go to the hospital knowing that it was where I'd heard those fateful words....

"I'm sorry but your baby has died"

I dread that I'll here those words again.

In that vein,  I've told quite a few people that I'm pregnant. If it goes wrong I will need support, and if it goes right I will need support. I'm still a single girl doing this on my own.
I told them all with a smile and a desperate attempt to put joy and excitement in my voice. I'm not joyful or excited really. I'm scared and reserved. I want to be excited and joyful but those emotions elude me currently.

Some respond with hugs and smiles and my favourite response, so far, was "I can be an aunty and an uncle". Some struggled to say anything except "well I won't get excited" or do anything except look pained and force a smile to stay on their faces.

I suppose the blog is evolving.... I'm sick again, and as predicted, worse than last time. I've lost 15.1lb in 20 days. It's officially Hyperemesis Gravidum again, so the blog will be about that again too.

I'm hoping for support and love, as well as a little excitement and joy eventually.  I'm strapped in to the seat on this rollercoaster and hanging on for dear life.

So today I felt strong enough to blog again. After some radio silence I thought I'd try to put something up.

I've spent a lot of the last 2ish weeks reeling. There's a lot going on in my world again suddenly, and my adjustment period to any changes or new things has increased (almost exponentially) since my daughter died. I can't really a explain it any other way, I suppose when she died I broke, and now every broken piece of me needs to adjust to each new thing so it takes a little longer.

My yearning to be a mother is no smaller since my daughter died, and as you you she was the wonderful result of some amazing science and a whole lot of luck. I've revisited the science, but you know that too, and luck was not with me. I'm extremely privileged to be able to have more attempts at IVF, and I am a proud mummy to my 'embabies' (I've been on a few IVF support forums and that's what they call embryos, either frozen, as mine are, or fresh from a current cycle of IVF. I love the term and have adopted it).

It would be a shame for them not to have a chance at being more than embabies, and in a big step I had another round of IVF.

I didn't cope very well with the process this time so have taken a step back and really focused on keeping myself safe and in a sane frame of mind. I'm not sure whether blogging helps or hinders in keeping me safe and sane but it feels better not to have it all running around in my head.

It's hard to do, between work and other commitments, me coming first is a real rarity. I'm learning that it can't stay that way if I'm to stay safe and sane. I hope that you all realised before me that you need 'me time' for the sake of your sanity. If not maybe this is the light bulb moment for you?

Today was okay.

Nothing monumental has happened,  no anniversaries or particular triggers for my grief.

I stood in the bright light of the day and thought about moving forward. How to move forward, if I can move forward,  if I should move forward.

My daughter's death changed my whole view on life. If she'd been born breathing the hospital would have fought to save her, she was officially 'viable' in the 'safest' third of pregnancy. I think that's why it has impacted on me so differently to the deaths of my previous 3 children, who all died before the 'magical' viable date.

I wish it was an understatement to say my whole view on life has changed. I walk round the supermarket in a different order now, to avoid the baby clothes or the smoked salmon that was one of my only cravings during my pregnancy. I park in a different place when I go to my regular check ups at the hospital, I watch different things on the TV, I read different books, I am unable to listen to certain songs without them being reminders of happy or sad times.

I'd like to be in a relationship again. I'd like to have that one person who I could call and confide in if I broke down and found myself hiding in the ladies toilets at the supermarket again, who would hold my hand and wipe my tears when I cry myself to sleep at night,  and support me unwaveringly in moving forward.

The more I think of it the more apprehensive I get. When exactly do I mention my dead daughter to a new person and potential lover in my life? How do I broach that subject? How do I tell anyone - in a new work place, or social event?

Yet again I am stumped by this experience. I am a control freak, my friends lovingly say I have CDO, obsessive compulsive disorder - just alphabetical like it should be. I like to have options and know all the possible answers.  Not knowing what to do or how to do it, or where I can research the best options is a very alien and uncomfortable concept for me.

I'm  reminded often that there is no map or sat nav for the journey after the death of a child.  Each parent who experiences the death of a child, or family member who is touched by the death of a child is charting their own path. That's okay. I suppose the point of today's ramble is to reiterate that to myself and to anyone else who may read this and wonder exactly where they are going.

Today is exactly a year since my pregnancy with my daughter was confirmed. I was over joyed and very confused.

The doctors had told me that the IVF probably wouldn't work and I'd have to prepare myself for another round with adjusted drug levels and a disappointment the first time. So I was prepared for disappointment.

As anyone who goes through IVF will tell you, the 2 week wait between transfer and test day is one of the most challenging and emotional times. Everything that can be done has been done, there is nothing to do but wait. Knowing if you start to bleed it's all over. Knowing that if you make it 14 days you can do a pregnancy test and all your dreams will be realised.

I was waiting to bleed. Day 9, day 10, waiting for the little hope I had to come crashing down around my ears. Day 12, day 13 -the growing hope would only crash down more loudly. I made it to day 14. I tested. The longest 5 minutes I can remember in a very long time.  Two lines  - I saw 2 lines on the test (and all of the other 4 tests I took that day, all the different brands, all positive).

I phoned the clinic and booked my blood test and primary scan then spent the day rubbing my tummy. Knowing I was pregnant and I was going to have a baby. I was going to have a baby - part of me was very innocent about it even after my 3 previous pregnancies had ended with the deaths of my children.  This pregnancy was meant to be, the IVF that wasn't supposed to work had worked. It must be fine, it must have "meant to be", of course it was going to be fine.

Part of was petrified of only being pregnant for a number of weeks. I tried really hard to crush that thought , switch off the little negative voice in my head and just concentrate on having my baby.

The rollercoaster had started, I was sat down on the ride and the automatic restraints had been pulled down and locked.

Today has been a hard day. Memories of that day and the positive parts of my pregnancy last year as well as some of the sadder parts that took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. I long for that feeling again, that initial positivity and the joy. However the fear of experiencing more death is a massive looming force in my life and decision making. Once again I'm in a place of maybes.