Feeling a twinge in my stomach, my heart sank.
It’s happening again, I thought sadly.
Grabbing a pregnancy test from my stash in the bathroom cupboard, I closed my eyes and prayed. But three minutes later, there was no mistaking the result.
Negative.
Comparing it to the positive test I’d taken just days earlier, I felt my heart break.
Another miscarriage.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to my partner Simon, 40.
‘It’s OK,’ he reassured me, putting on a brave face. ‘We can try again.’
‘There must be something wrong with me,’ I said, tears in my eyes.
‘Don’t say that,’ he said, giving me a big hug.
I couldn’t help but think it.
I’d had a little girl Katiee, now 21, back in 2001 – but since then, I’d struggled.
After an ectopic pregnancy in 2010 followed by nine miscarriages with a previous partner, I felt like I was cursed.
Si had been my best mate and supported me through it all – and when my partner and I went our separate ways,
