I’ve never been a fan of hospitals. As a child I didn’t have any hospital experiences – my sister was the clumsy one, breaking her arm or biting a hole through her tongue (yes, really). My first overnight stay in a hospital didn’t happen until I was 26, after giving birth to my new baby.

When I had my pregnancy dating scan and then my anomaly scan a few weeks ago, my husband was with me. I was nervous – partly because I don’t really like hospitals and partly because I was worried about the results of both scans.

But on Friday night, at around 10.30pm, I had to go to hospital on my own. As I sat in the back of the taxi, trying ever so hard not to vomit all over the leather interior or sob too loudly, things shifted sharply into focus.  Continue reading »