I was sitting in the Ante Natal ward, I can't even remember if I was in my pyjamas or clothes, with all the curtains drawn around the bed, receiving the devastating news from my consultant, that there was no way I would be carrying my pregnancy any further. I was to receive steroids, and my baby would be delivered at 9am the following day.
I don't think I ever knew true fear until that moment. I was terrified. Of dying. Of my baby dying. My baby being disabled. The long road ahead. And I cried and cried. I was surrounded by young girls in beds for social reasons, becoming more and more self concious of my sobbing.
The 17 year old girl opposite called me over, and she held me whilst I sobbed. Her mother arrived, and she held me too. They told me everything would be alright, and they would get me through. A midwife came in and called me to the phone. My husband. "Do you need me to come in from work?" I sobbed "yes please".
It was 2 years ago. Today. Things are so bright, my son is walking and talking. He's not disabled, you wouldn't even know he was born at anything other than term. I am well. You wouldn't know that I was close to death that day.
It's the past. It's important. To remember is natural and healthy, but it isn't our future.
The futures is bright.