It's been an okay week, around here. Some highs, some lows.

We've been overwhelmed by the love and generosity of our friends and family members over the last few weeks. From the day we found out that we had lost the baby, the messages of support just kept flying in.

It's so hard to say much other than 'thank you' - but I've tried hard to make sure people know how grateful I am, we both are. Little tokens were left on our doorstep, cards were posted to us so that we can read in private - it was beautiful, and showed us how loved we are - even in our darkest moments.

Somehow, another week has passed. Time seems to be speeding up again - which is both a good thing, and a sad thing. We're further away from being pregnant; but we're closer to getting going again in the future.

Already the little milestones are hurting - we would have been 13 weeks soon, we would have gone for our NT scan and received those perfect first pictures of our baby looking like a proper little baby & we would have announced the pregnancy to the world. I can't even imagine how sad it's going to be towards bigger events, like how we should have been nearly 7 months pregnant at Christmas, or even towards the due date.

The last few days have been a bit rubbish. I finally stopped bleeding and spotting, and was relieved to have physically gotten over the last effects of the d&c... and then I got a stomach flu. Just a 24 hour bug, but all the strain of the vomiting/nausea on my body started the bleeding back up again. Not a lot, and thankfully short lived.

I also used a few cheap pregnancy tests to see how my lines were looking, since we haven't had bloods taken to check the hcg levels dropping yet. Last week's one was SUPER positive, darker than the control. That was depressing - knowing you are most definitely not pregnant, but the sticks glaring at you. The picture below shows this week; the top was Tuesday, the bottom was yesterday {Friday}. It's a squinter now. I guess my hormones are finally levelling out. It's bittersweet, isn't it? Praying so hard for your pregnancy test sticks to get darker and things to progress - and now be wanting so badly for them to be negative, so we can start again.

My daughter is so amazing - she has been more wonderful than ever in the past week. It's like she knows, and is trying hard to make us smile. She's made us laugh so much, and I love her for that. I can't even tell you how many times my husband and I have looked at each other and admired just how perfect this kid is. We are so lucky.

'Your Baby is 12 weeks old today!' Checking my emails has never hurt so much before. No.... no it's not.

To anyone else, today is the start of just another week. To us, it's a pretty special and bitter-sweet day. The day when we planned to announce publicly to the world that we were expecting our second miracle, coming soon - March 2015! To be honest, I hadn't quite figured out how I was going to tell people; probably a cute photograph of Georgia with a 'big sister' sign, or something along those lines - but we were almost there. Almost.

Today, I'm sharing our news - in the hope that it honours our little one. So that people know they existed, that they were loved. So that people know the reason why we are so sad, and that we are recovering from such a massive loss. It's also for my friends, near and far, who have loved and lost too. We will never forget your angels, or our own.

So, here goes:

We were pregnant, and now we are not. We were hopeful and excited and overwhelmed with giddy joy at being parents once again - and now, we are not. But we have Georgia, and each other, and our amazing family and friends, and one day soon we'll have hope again - and with that hope, another shot at expanding our family.

This quote speaks volumes to me right now:

"In the weeks after our loss, I couldn't help but wonder why and how our society has set up a situation where so many women are suffering through these experiences alone. We are encouraged not to tell people we are pregnant until 12 weeks, but then 80% of miscarriages happen before 12 weeks. So we face this incredibly life-altering experience in solitude. We wander around our "everyday" lives with a broken heart that no one else is aware of."

It's all so raw. This whole thing feels like a dream, until I remember the last few days.

The moment I walked into the OB's office, flustered from running straight from the pathology place downstairs - the midwife being so lovely and reassuring, telling me that lots of women felt anxious during their pregnancies, and that they'd scan for my peace of mind. The moment the OB scanned me, and very cautiously told me that he was struggling to see a heartbeat, that the baby measured small - and then doing an internal ultrasound to confirm what he wasn't seeing. The moment his words sunk in, and I realised I was alone, that Jason didn't know, that our baby had died. The moment he called home, told hubby the news, and we drove home together... with the realisation that everything had changed.

I was petrified of having a d&c - I've never had any kind of surgery before, no anaesthetic, nothing. But I was even more petrified of passing the baby at home, especially since my body still thought it was pregnant - and was in no rush to miscarry on its own. Considering the pain I had from the misoprostol tablets to start the process was SO intense, I would have really struggled at home, so I am 100% okay with my decision to have the d&c.

The procedure itself went fine, everyone was really sympathetic and my OB was really reassuring. I woke up from the anaesthetic with no side effects, but with quite a lot of pain and cramping that would NOT go away. They gave me enough pain meds to fell a grown man, and nothing worked; I wasn't even slightly tired either. After several hours in recovery, and a combination of drugs, I finally felt well enough to get myself into the outpatient centre and prepare to leave. I hadn't slept the night before, and I couldn't sleep that night. I wanted to, but I just couldn't.

Yesterday, I saw my GP. I wanted to let her know the news, and to get some help with the sleeping. She was devastated for me, and prescribed some tablets, and with her help I finally managed a sleep last night. If only it was dreamless.

So now.... what next? I have no idea. I'm home. I'm healing, still cramping (very mildly) and still bleeding (on and off) and just trying to push on. My family and friends have been great, lots of messages of support, but I feel like I'm still in hibernation mode. How do I face the real world, with happy and healthy pregnancies, when I just can't have that right now? I'm putting on a brave face, but I still can NOT believe this has happened.

I hate waiting.  I hate not having a plan. I hate not being in control. And that's what is especially hard about this - there is nothing we can do for a while. Other than hold each other, put the pieces back together, and wait.

I thought I knew what it felt like to walk into a hospital pregnant, and walk out NOT pregnant. I thought it happened with a healthy baby in your arms, after a long and mostly uneventful pregnancy. That's all I knew. Today, I did just that - but I didn't bring home our second baby; just an empty spot in my womb and a heavy heart.

The procedure wasn't too bad. The aftermath was really bad. I spent most of the afternoon in recovery, trying to find the right drugs to help with the pain. I'm home now, and ready to sleep and to start healing - physically and emotionally, however long that takes.

This is the last ultrasound I have of our beloved little baby, the one who made me a mummy again. Arms, legs, a perfect little body - just no heartbeat. I'm so grateful to have seen that little heart beating more than once, and to have bonded with this baby for the last 11 weeks. I just wish I could have held them in my arms one day, we both do. Rest in peace, our little blob. We loved you so much and will never, ever forget you.

I'm so completely devastated to tell you all that we just found out that our miracle second baby is no more. Today at our routine 11 week OB appointment, we saw our beautiful and perfect baby - but with no heartbeat.

Can't even begin to process what happens now, but my heart has broken into a million shattered pieces.

Tomorrow I'm being admitted to hospital for a d&c. My whole world is in a spin, and I'm holding on for dear life.