At sixes and sevens

It's a hot and humid day today in London town as I write this, and office workers are wilting under heavy blue skies. Ties and shoes are off, and we work to the gentle murmuring of electric fans dotted around the open plan office. Days like this are too nice - and too few and far between this summer - to be stuck indoors, but they always seem to fall in the week. All I can do for now is stare out of my window envious of friends who are able to enjoy this weather, and content myself I that I will feel the sun on my back when I leave the office later, as I head north to my weekly volunteering commitment.

Life plods along for the Boy and I. We had a better than expected weekend. I'd been nervous of going on a hen do and to a big 40th birthday party while I've been feeling out of sorts. I would have been six months pregnant on Monday, so our loss has been in the forefront of our minds again and we have both wobbled - it is difficult when the anniversaries arrive. I don't want to remember them but I always do. And it's hard to reflect on what might have been - but we have muddled through together. However, I enjoyed seeing old faces from the past immensely and the weekend was really good fun. I was reminded how lovely so many of my colleagues from my early days in PR, when we worked at the ChildLine charity, were, and how special a time that was.

A few of the old faces I chatted to on a one-to-one basis confided in me about their stories of miscarriage and loss in their searches to have a family. One old friend who I was very fond of when we worked together told me his wife had lost three children before they finally realised their dream and had a beautiful daughter. The stories are so sad - and I feel a spontaneous ache in my heart now as an instinct when I hear of anyone who has lost a child - but in the darkness there is light as they bring me some comfort and hope. I feel for my friends who have experienced loss, but that they held tight to what they wanted and have gone one to have a family gives me courage to go forwards also. I'm really starting to believe for the first time since the miscarriage that while the road ahead for the Boy and I is unknown, it could well lead to happiness - in fact, it probably will. I think I needed that gentle reminder.

So we're back in the part of the month where we're 'baby-dancing' as I believe the phrase goes! It feels different this time. I can feel a change in my emotional state and mood - while I hope this might be the month we get good news, it doesn't matter - as much - if it isn't. If we don't fall this month, then nothing is lost, there's tomorrow, next week, next month, next year and sooner or later good things will happen. I think in the last few months I've felt like the hole and the ache inside could only be filled by a new baby, but now I feel like the Boy has filled that hole. I'm very tightly bonded to him just now and being intimate together feels more about us and an extension of our love than anything else. I am reminded on a daily basis how fantastic and loving he is, and the closeness we have is incredibly special and important to me.

When we first began dating and even in the early days of our marriage I held quite tightly to my independence and we made quite a lot of social plans separately. Now something has shifted and I can hardly bear to be separated from him. Now he has seen all of me. Now he has been there for the best times and the worst. Now he means even more to me than he did before, more than I ever could have imagined. Now I walk along the street and find myself smiling because now I feel my heart almost fit to burst with joy that this person is by my side in all that I do. Holding me up, keeping me strong, being my understudy. So perhaps, in a funny way, after everything that has happened this year, maybe now is the best time of all.