Just over eight years ago I met my new partner Stuart and fairly quickly we knew we would like to have a baby together.
He did not have children but had formed a lovely bond with my son, then six, and we were keen to compete our little family with a new addition.
My pregnancy with Harry had gone like clockwork, Stuart and I were both fit and healthy and at 34 and 36 we felt positive about our chances of conceiving.
We could never have foreseen the years of heartbreak we were about to encounter on a journey that left us grief-stricken and almost destroyed our relationship.
Initially I did fall pregnant quickly, but at six weeks a heavy bleed confirmed we had lost our baby.
We were to go through three more miscarriages over the next seven years, two in one year which broke our hearts and left us totally confused as to why it was happening.
A myriad of invasive tests showed there were no issues fertility-wise for either of us.
The rollercoaster ride of falling pregnant and losing our babies along with months of relentless pressure to conceive took its toll.
Our relationship suffered and we both struggled with mental health problems.
I had lots, and I mean lots, of counselling and two episodes of severe depression where I felt like I had fallen down a dark hole and could not get out.
I eventually hit rock bottom on my 40th birthday in 2015 when two weeks previously I had lost our fourth baby. We had managed to get to 10 weeks this time but at an early scan showed no heart beat.
Turning 40 was a nail in the coffin of our dream to have a baby, we knew statistically my fertility was dropping and even if we could get pregnant my age meant an increase risk of miscarriage.
Exhausted by the pressure and stress which seemed to touch every aspect of our lives we decided we needed to change things quickly or risk being dragged under by it all.
We began to consider a different future, one without a baby and the first thing we did was count our blessings.
One beautiful boy, a great life, two crazy dogs; we had plenty to be thankful for and we knew we could carve out a happy existence.
We got on with our lives; we bought a house, had a fabulous trip to New York where Stuart proposed, we got married and had some amazing family holidays.
I threw myself into triathlon training, good times with friends and soaked up every single second of being mum to Harry.
All of this was not without sadness. Harry was, and still is, the light of my life and I so wanted to go on the journey again and take Stuart with me.
Meanwhile blood tests following the fourth miscarriage came back positive for something called Antiphospholipid Syndrome or APS. This is a disorder of the immune system that causes blood clots, a cause of multiple miscarriage.
Satisfying as it was to have a clear cause of our miscarriages we could not face starting again on the roller coaster of trying to conceive.
My consultant encouraged us to keep trying, with medication we could go on to have a successful pregnancy.
However the prospect of facing months or years of ovulation testing, pressure, two week waits and pregnancy tests filled us both with absolute dread; a fifth loss felt like a pain too difficult to bear.
As 2019 arrived we made a decision to close the doors completely and Stuart was booked in for a vasectomy in May.
Three days before his operation we decided to delay it, just for six months. Partly because Stuart was going to Germany for a cycling holiday and also so we could look back and say we had tried absolutely everything.
A month later we were pregnant.
To say we were shocked was a complete understatement, we could not believe four years after our last pregnancy and at the age of 43 I could be carrying our baby.
I immediately started on a course of aspirin and daily injections to thin my blood, which I’m still on now and will be until after the birth.
At six months pregnant, with three positive scans, we are feeling cautiously positive.
We know there is much potential for things to go wrong still, I will be 44 when our little baby boy arrives.
The wonderful people at Airedale Hospital are keeping a very close eye on me and our baby and we could not ask for better care.
If praying is your thing then it would be much appreciated, but happy thoughts and crossed fingers will do just fine too.
We’ll keep you posted.