I first fell pregnant in February 2016. We had an early reassurance scan and everything was looking great and there was a strong, beautiful heartbeat flickering on the scene.

Then, when I was about 9 weeks I had some bleeding. We went to the early pregnancy unit and were told we were miscarrying. It was a Friday and they had no doctor available so I was asked to come back in on Monday. That was the longest weekend and I longed to be told on the Monday there had been some mistake.

Back at the hospital I had two pessaries inserted which would kick start contractions and I would pass the baby. I was sent home with some painkillers and within a few hours I was miscarrying. The pain was indescribable and the finality of it was hard to bare.

My husband and I tried again to fall pregnant a few months later but to no avail. After about a year we went to see a specialist and after various tests we undertook a round of IVF.

We were very lucky to fall pregnant on our first go. I was incredibly anxious something was going to go wrong though. I bled on and off for the first 20 weeks but the doctors kept reassuring me that our little girl was doing just fine.

Then the unthinkable happened and I went into labour at 23 weeks. Our beautiful daughter Phoebe was born on January 15th 2019. She was only 525grams and we honestly didn’t know if she was would survive the night. The NICU team were incredible and managed to stabilise her but Phoebe was very unwell. I stayed by her incubator constantly and slept in a chair next to her, listening to the sounds of all the machines that were keeping her alive. When she was 4 weeks old she had to move hospital to have an operation and she was given a 50% chance of surviving it.

But she did and she started to thrive. However, just short of 6 weeks old she took a turn for the worse. We didn’t want her to suffer and when I looked at her I could almost feel her tell me she was tired and had had enough. She fought so hard and as her parents we were faced with an impossible decision. We decided to move her to the children’s hospice near us. We held her in our arms, sang songs, read her stories until she took her last breath in my arms.

My beautiful, determined, strong little girl was gone and my heart was shattered.

There were some very dark days that followed. I couldn’t see any light and I wondered what my life would look like now. We were parents but with no child and the path that followed was painful and hard.

However, about 6 months after she died we decided to try again and did a further round of IVF. We fell pregnant but sadly miscarried at around 6 weeks.

We had two more embryos in the freezer and had them both transferred. They both implanted and we found out at 6 weeks we were pregnant with twins. We were shocked and delighted but again the anxiety was crippling.

Phoebe was never far from my thoughts and I knew I couldn’t go through that again. Everything was going well until I bled at 8 weeks. The hospital told me we were miscarrying one of the twins and I passed them in the hospital toilet. It was horrendous and the blood loss was huge. The doctors told me there was a strong possibility that I may lose the other baby and I was put on strict bed rest.

At around 18 weeks I had a cervical stitch put in to try and eliminate the possibility of a premature birth. It went well and the doctors were pleased.

However a few weeks later I started contracting. I was rushed into the hospital and experienced the worst pain I have ever felt. I was contracting with a stitched cervix and our little boy, Harry, ripped through it when he was born. He was too small and too early to survive. I was numb and in shock but rushed straight into surgery due to my cervix being ripped and the huge blood loss. I had a spinal tap so was numb but awake. I had 4 blood transfusions and adrenaline pumped through a vein in my neck to keep my heart pumping. It was terrifying and as the room filled with more doctors with concerned looks on their faces, I genuinely thought I would die.

Out of theatre I was wheeled into the exact room I had given birth to Phoebe and there was my husband, white as a sheet, cradling our little boy. We spent the night with him in the bereavement suite and then once again we left hospital without our baby.

At this point I believed I would never have another child. It seemed like an impossible dream and due to the damage to my cervix from Harry’s birth I was told I wouldn’t be able to carry another baby.

My husband and I talked endlessly about what to do and we ended up getting in touch with a surrogacy agency. They were amazing and we were put in touch with an incredible surrogate. My husband had his sperm collected and I had my eggs collected and two beautiful embryos were created and were placed inside our surrogate.

9 months later, my twin boys, Ollie and Arthur were born. By some miracle our dream had been fulfilled and we now have two very happy, active little 18month old boys at home.

Arthur looks so like Phoebe and we talk about their big sister and brother all the time. Parenting after loss isn’t easy. It’s a club no one wants to belong to but so many do. Baby loss can affect anyone.

The loss of Phoebe and Harry is with me everyday. I miss them immensely and there are still some very dark days when the grief is overwhelming but there are happier days too.

I’ve learnt it’s ok to smile and it’s ok to allow yourself to be happy again. Phoebe and Harry may not be with me but they are my children too. They are loved beyond measure and it’s so important for me to say their names. They were here, they existed, they are so loved and they are never forgotten.