Last night I dreamed of the moment I knew it was all over.
That morning I'd been bleeding again and in pain again (it was always the fibroids) and after phoning in sick from work and phoning the maternity unit I went to the toilet and I felt something odd, I looked under and I saw the cord hanging from me. I can barely describe the absolute utter horror of that moment.
I knew George had died.
I think I screamed. I remember clinging on to Ray. Somehow we got to the hospital and about two hours later at 11.05 we saw our perfect tiny son.
It was over so soon.
That image of my baby's lifeline hanging from my body is burned deeply onto the inside of my skull. For days after George was born whenever I closed my eyes I would see his perfect face, or that lifeless pale cord dangling underneath me. Last night I kept seeing it over and over again.
It was the first time I dreamed it.
Today I'm a bit less optimistic, but trying to get it back.