Staring at my phone screen, I blinked back tears.
It was summer 2020 and a friend had sent a text announcing her pregnancy.
Wonderful news, I typed.
And it truly was.
Yet, as happy as I was for her, I couldn’t shift the misery crushing me.
She was the latest in a long line of pals having babies.
Everywhere I looked were women with bumps, mums pushing prams.
Happy families.
‘When will it be our turn?’ I wept to my husband Ben, then 39, later.
‘Soon, love,’ he said.
A professional entertainer, Ben was as cheery in real life as he was on stage.
I was a dancer and used to painting on