I'm living without my children. It's challenging, heartbreaking and I'm not enjoying it. Some days I live without them,  some days I barely survive.

My first daughter died at 22 weeks, 15 years ago followed by two further miscarriages at 8 weeks (13 years ago ) and 13 weeks  (11 years ago) . Last year my daughter died at 26 weeks and I had a failed round of IVF in March of 2015.

My first 3 children died before I was diagnosed with a plethora of health issues. I think much of my ill health comes from my unprocessed feelings from the deaths of my first 3 children but that's for another thread.

After years of health struggle came to an end with a final op my partner issued me with an ultimatum - her or my womb. My partner and I are not together any more. The very fact she issued an ultimatum is enough for me to end our 5 year relationship. That's not the way relationships go. She doesn't get to dictate our relationship any more than I do. Between us we couldn't find a way back.

My 4th child, a daughter, who died last year was the result of a round of IVF with donor sperm. A course of action my partner and I had previously agreed upon. I undertook it as a single woman because I had focused my health battle on saving my ability to have children. I followed all the instructions I was given. Swallowed every pill and it had worked. I'd got into remission and I was dammed if I wasn't going to try for the baby I so wanted. It was going to be hard work. All the Dr's said so, nobody realised quite how much hard work. 

I endured hyperemesis gravidum from 6 weeks, alongside all the familiar pregnancy symptoms, a bleed at 18 weeks, pain from various sources that was, at times, unmanageable. At 19 weeks I was diagnosed with intrahepatic choleostasis of pregnancy. At my 22 week scan they found my daughter had not grown as expected. I had a doppler scan and an amniocentesis. Clots were discovered in my daughter's cord restricting her growth. I was started on blood thinners. Too little too late.

At 25 weeks and 5 days my daughter had, what I can only describe as, a fit in my belly. I felt her suddenly thrash and struggle, for what felt like an age - in reality it was only a few minutes, however by the time I got to the hospital she had died. My labour was induced the next day and my daughter was born, still and silent, on the third day.

I just needed a place to write about it all. Some of my friends suggested I blog, so here I am. Blogging. I don't want everyone to know it's me, but I want something good to come of this. In some strange way, my confusion and sadness, my hours of research and my story may just help one person through a similar situation.

Maybe I'll raise awareness of still birth, or hyperemesis, or surrogacy, or pregnancy after loss, or gay parenting, or pregnancy through health challenges, or intrahepatic choleostasis of pregnancy.  Maybe I'll not manage any of those things - maybe it'll just be my personal blog of how I keep living, without my children.