“Have you been having any pregnancy symptoms?” the sonographer asked.
My husband and I laughed. “Well I’ve been throwing up for eight weeks, signed off work and have barely been able to function, so yes.”
The knowing smile I was looking for in response didn’t come. And as I looked up at the screen and the gaping black hole staring back at me from my twelve-week scan, I knew there was no longer anything to be cocky about.
There was no baby. Just an empty sack, and my bruised ego. They called it a
I’m An Introvert, But Here’s Why I Gave In And Made ‘Mum Friends’
Black And Brown Mums Like Me Are Judged Differently. Here’s How I Know
My Anxiety Is Stopping Me Enjoying My Pregnancy