The house was in darkness when Mike arrived home. He found this slightly surprising, because not only was Lucy's car in the drive, but the dog was in his bed, which meant that Lucy wasn't out walking him. It was possible she'd popped in to one of the neighbours for a chat, but Mike thought it unlikely.

"Hullo, anybody home?"

"Here," said a sorrowful voice from the study.

He found her hunched up in an armchair, hugging her knees. One look told him she'd been crying.

"Oh sweetheart, what is it? I thought you'd enjoy meeting all the old crowd for lunch. What happened?"

He went to put his arm around her, but she shrugged him off.

"Yes, I was enjoying it; it was great to see them all and we were having fun. I was enjoying it, really, I'd almost forgotten, until ..." Her voice trailed off as her eyes filled with tears.

"Until what?"

"Till they said it, that same sentence, the one everybody says thinking it makes me feel better. I hate it, I hate it so much. I don't want 'another'; I want ours, the one we lost."

She broke, sobbing uncontrollably, and only then would she let Mike cuddle her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Six months earlier, Lucy and Mike were thrilled when Lucy discovered she was pregnant. They had been trying for a baby for a few months and were looking forward immensely to the big event.

Lucy had noticed some spotting of blood around the time she was expecting her period, so was slightly unsure whether she was pregnant or not until the pregnancy tests left no doubt. There was more spotting four weeks later, but it didn't come to much and books she'd read said it wasn't unheard of, so she carried on as normal. She really didn't want to fuss - there was a whole pregnancy and birth to get through yet - and she didn't want to discuss it with anyone.

Lucy mentioned the spotting to the doctor when she saw him. He reassured her that it was quite common and, in most cases, settles down, so she and Mike started to make plans, tell their friends, decorate the bedroom and discuss names.

But it wasn't to be. A couple of weeks later Lucy started bleeding - not just spotting - but only lightly. Mike called out the doctor, who told Lucy to see if the pregnancy settled down - at this stage it was a threatened miscarriage.

Lucy felt frightened and helpless and knew she could do nothing other than what she'd been told. She didn't want to eat and couldn't sleep; she only wanted time to pass until she was holding her baby in her arms. That, too, wasn't to be.

The next day she suffered lower abdominal cramps and the bleeding became severe. The doctor was summoned once more and he immediately called for an ambulance. The paramedics were very reassuring and friendly, and nearly succeeded in taking her mind off what was happening. They chatted easily to her, while seeming genuinely concerned.

Soon after arrival at hospital, Lucy passed so much blood, with clots and 'tissue', that it became evident the pregnancy was highly unlikely to continue to full term.

A doctor performed an ultrasound scan on her, which confirmed that she had miscarried. He told her that whereas it used to be common for doctors to perform a small operation known as a D&C to clear the uterus after a miscarriage, especially a late one, it is now more common to let nature takes its course. An operation can be performed if there are complications, but generally, the pregnancy matter is passed out naturally, and bleeding will stop in a number of days.

The staff were very kind to Lucy and reassured her that there was no reason whatsoever why she wouldn't go on to have a perfectly healthy baby. They told her that as many as one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage, and that it was just one of those things, probably an isolated chromosome fault, and very unlikely to recur. They also reassured her that nothing she had done would have caused it.

"You can always have another," the nurses said, encouragingly.

She hadn't the strength to explain that she didn't want another, she just wanted that one, her baby.

Working up some courage, she asked if they would test her, so she would know for sure, but was told that investigations are not usually carried out until you have miscarried three consecutive times. She was given details of counselling services that were available, and promised to consider whether to take them up.

She longed to get home, to normality, except normality had just changed, been taken away from her.

When the bleeding stopped, Lucy returned to work, thinking that it would help to have her mind occupied.

She was struggling at home to be able to talk the whole thing through with Mike - he seemed to want to look forward rather than back. Thoughts about it hung over her the whole time; not an hour passed without her feeling guilty about what had happened. Had she overdone things? Was it the odd glass of wine she'd had before she knew for sure that she was pregnant? Or the x-rays she'd had at the dentist's surgery a couple of months earlier? Was it because she and Mike had continued to have sex after the initial spotting? Should she have refrained from helping Mike decorate the bedroom? Thoughts went round and round her mind, each one making her feel more miserable. She knew in her head that she had done nothing to cause it, but still couldn't help wondering in her heart.

Going back to work didn't help her as she thought it might. She had little interest in work or her colleagues. Their attempts at conversation and banter seemed unimportant and irrelevant to her life; in fact, she really had nothing in common with them any more. When they talked of families and children, she felt resentful. She didn't like to admit it, but she knew it was true. Even being out and about was giving her problems. The mere sight of a buggy was enough to cause her to well up or feel angry. How could they have a baby when she couldn’t?

Realising she needed help to move forward, Lucy arranged some counselling sessions and also joined The Miscarriage Association, Tel (Helpline): 01924 200799 Web: www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

And so, sitting in the study after lunch out with her friends on that winter's afternoon, Lucy relaxed against Mike’s strong chest as her sobs lessened and she calmed down. She tried to speak, hesitated, then continued,

“You know what time it is, don’t you?”

“Well, I know it’ll soon be Christmas.”

“Yes, and the time our baby would have been born.”

Mike was surprised. He had known the baby would have been due at Christmas, of course he had, but the sudden realisation that Lucy had been dwelling on it gave him an unpleasant jolt.

“Darling, of course, I know … but it will be all right, you’ll see, we’ll have …”

He stopped, knowing he was making things worse. He and Lucy were trying for another baby, but that itself was difficult. It had taken a while for her to even contemplate sex and now it was just a baby-making process.

“Yes, I know, we’ll have a baby one day, of course I want to - that's why I'm happy that we're trying again. Lunch wasn't easy today though, this whole Christmas thing is hard for me. It brought it all back so vividly. And you know that I'm frightened of what may happen next time, don't you?”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The following year, Lucy again met her friends for a pre-Christmas lunch. This time Mike had to be at home to look after Jessica, their beautiful new daughter on whom they both doted. Lucy’s pregnancy had been problem-free and the birth straightforward. How lucky they were.

Yet Lucy and Mike never forgot the child that would have been their firstborn.