Groundhog dayIt's been almost two years since that first miscarriage. Not a minute has gone by that I haven't been gripped with panic at my sheer desperation to be pregnant again. I have been obsessed and depressed, hidden from view, sick to my stomach with pain and anxiety and stress.
Of course I put on a brave face for my boys, try to limit the effect on them. But is this it for me? Subsistence living, putting one foot in front of the other, one tear on top of another, getting through the day, doing it all over again and again and again?
Is this as good as it gets?