I have spent the last 72 hours curled up in pain, popping industrial-strength Tylenol while the cramps and contractions ravage my womb. My miscarriage is a gradual but painful process. I read it takes somewhere between seven and ten days. My mood swings from sadness to guilt to numbness. There are moments where I am a sobbing heap in my husband's arms. There are other moments where I am empty and numb. My husband feels hurt, helpless and despairing too. I didn't realise he had been looking forward to being a father.

"We were going to have a baby but not anymore." he says, tears in his beautiful blue eyes.

He's racked with grief, and guilt that he couldn't be there this past Monday at the hospital. It was awful for me but it was also bad for him. He was at work and one of the customers had announced, overjoyed that his wife was pregnant, after two miscarriages. I can't imagine what it must have been like for him but he moved heaven and earth to fly back as soon as possible and be here with me. His work colleagues know and understand, thank God. He has rarely left my side since he's been back.

He's checking his work mail and keeping tabs on things. We spent the day mostly indoors but did manage to enjoy some sun today. We went out briefly yesterday but I can't be too far from a toilet these days and the cramps are making it difficult to just stay out.

There have also been some light-hearted moments. Husband's rented the last Wallace and Gromit film and sucker for *any* animation that I am, I eagerly watched and laughed and giggled. We joked and hugged and hung around.

I'm going to recover... and then I have to think. I don't want to stay in this new job. The miscarriage changes everything. It's time to look ahead. I will stay as long as I can but I will look beyond.