I woke up today feeling positive, energised and peaceful. I got up, did a quick yoga flow and got myself ready for a busy morning of calls. It’s now almost 4pm as I’m sat writing this, and my spritely mood has been replaced once again with anxiety and a heaviness in my chest.

It’s EXHAUSTING going from feeling happy in one moment to feeling defeated the next. My fertility journey has done that to me. As Ronan Keating says, “Life is a rollercoaster, you just gotta ride it..” and oh my, am I riding it.

Before all of this, I was a confident, happy and relaxed person with so many hopes for the future. Yes, I’ll admit that I’m a natural born worrier. I like everything perfect, in its place and neatly tied with a big red bow. But, I’m also a positive and optimistic person who sees the light in everything. Nothing too big or too scary. Or at least I was that person, my miscarriage stole a lot of that positivity from me.

In fact, my miscarriage stole a lot more from me than just my precious baby. It robbed me of my innocence and expectations of pregnancy. It stole my confidence, my self-esteem, my resilience, my faith, my purpose and my energy. It took from me who I was before all of this and replaced it with somebody that I sometimes barely even recognise.

I’m more of an anxious person than I’ve ever been before. I’ve become fearful of the future, unable to plan too far ahead because in doing so, I could be knocked down again and again. I’ve become the neediest wife ever to my husband, often asking him where he’s going when sometimes it’s literally just to the toilet. And I’ve generally lost trust in myself and my body. It’s let me down on more than one occasion throughout this journey, and whilst I may give it a lot of love in preparation for a new embryo transfer, I can’t say I trust it like I used to when I was naive and innocent.

Immediately after my miscarriage, I was thrown into a tsunami of grief that I was unable to swim my way out of it. I turned to a therapist to help me process all that I was feeling, hoping for someone to show me a way forward. On our first meeting, I asked her: “Am I damaged?”, “How can I fix myself?”, “What did I do wrong?”, “Why me?”, “Will I ever trust my body again?”. I told her that I hated myself.

And I did, I really hated myself. I couldn’t fathom how my body had let me down so much, how it had failed to keep my baby alive and then how it had failed to let me know that my baby had died.

It took me over ten weeks of weekly therapy sessions and everyday since then to be able to process my grief and start to understand that none of what I have experienced is my fault. It’s not anybody’s fault, but it’s especially not my fault. I didn’t do this to myself. I just got unlucky. I’m the 1in4 who has sadly experienced miscarriage and I’m the 1in8 that is struggling with my fertility. None of this means that I am broken or that I need fixing, I know that now. If anything, my experience has taught me that I need to love myself a little more than I have been, that I need to stop giving myself a hard time and instead look after myself and be proud of myself for how far I’ve come since that dreaded day when I lost my baby.

Whilst my heart often hurts for how difficult our journey to becoming parents is proving, I acknowledge and accept that my journey comes with a rollercoaster of emotions that I need to ride through. It’s not nice, and it’s not always easy but I know that those muddy and complex feelings will soon pass and brighter days will come. I know that because I believe that and that’s what keeps me fighting through this journey. Hope. Hope that one day I can put all of this behind me and move forward a stronger, more resilient and happier person with my baby in my arms.

But for today, I simply allow myself to feel whatever it is I’m feeling. I allow myself to sit with my emotions, to cry them out if I need to and to love myself a little more in that moment.

If you find yourself in a similar place to me, then know that your storm will soon pass and brighter days will come. It doesn’t always mean that the pain and those other uncomfortable feelings go away completely but it does mean that if you can ride through it, you will grow stronger and more resilient because of them. I know I have, and I hope you will too.

So take care of yourself, give yourself a little more love on a tough day and tell yourself you’ll be okay tomorrow.

Sending you so much strength and baby dust no matter where you are on your journey.

Love, Sophie xx