When I post here I like to talk about something positive. Usually providing update on the writing front or something nostalgic. Unfortunately, as the title indicates, today’s post is anything but…

Firstly, I’d like to say this is a personal post. However, I like to be open and honest with my followers and want to share what is going on in my life, aside from the writing. After all, I’m still human.

In early August my partner and myself found out we were pregnant with our third child. This was unexpected to say the least. We had agreed we did not want any more children; we were content with one of each – the perfect set up. And then there was the financial and emotional strain a new baby would have on all of us. The pregnancy was a complete shock, completely unplanned.

After a few weeks and the news began to settle in we started to come round to the idea and we were even looking forward to bringing a new life into the world. We wrestled with the idea of telling our two children the news so early on in the pregnancy, but my daughter is very intuitive and we could sense she knew something was going on. So, we decided to tell the kids they were going to have a new brother and sister. They were both over the moon and full of questions. Aside from my dad we decided not to tell anyone else until we had been for the twelve week.

The date for the scan soon came round. That morning my daughter was acting somewhat out of character. With it being a Wednesday it was my day to do the school run. As my partner left for work my daughter became very clingy, not allowing her mum to leave, being OTT with cuddles and kisses. With the final cuddle she kissed my partner’s belly and said, “Bye, baby.” Of course, my daughter always gives and a cuddle when she leaves, but never so many as that morning and she had never said bye to the baby before.

With my son dropped off at nursery I took my daughter to school. Everything was as usual until the bell rang and the teacher called in students. My daughter suddenly burst into tears saying she didn’t want me to leave. She is normally happy to go to school and one of the first into class. After some persuading I convinced my daughter to go to her class and I headed for work.

The morning rolled on and we were soon at the appointment for the scan, excited to see the new baby.

My partner sat on the examining table while the sonographer did her thing  and I eagerly watched the screen and waited and waited and waited… In my head I said to myself, “There is nothing there.”

The sonographer then asked my partner some questions surrounding dates of conception etc and then stated she couldn’t see a baby. She then called in one of the mid-wives and they carried out a further examination and asked a shit load more questions about my partner’s health, but couldn’t offer a definite answer as to why nothing was there.

The sonographer gave three possibilities: 1. The pregnancy was ectopic. 2. We were pregnant, but only circa four weeks, which contradicted the pregnancy test. 3. My partner had miscarried, but was not showing any symptoms. We were booked in for a further scan a week later to see if there was any change in the hope they could then offer a definite diagnosis. After a week of hell, not knowing (and that’s was the worst thing – not knowing) we found it was door number three.

The best way to describe the experience is surreal. It was a roller-coaster of emotions. Starting off in shock and panic at the though of the pregnancy and, horrible as it may sound, not being wanted. To then being excited and looking forward to a new baby. Then, no baby after all – as you were.

The weekend my partner miscarried, I was due to attend Bradford Comic-Con. I’m not sure if you’ll recall, but I had to cancel at the last minute. This was the reason why. I hated to cancel, and let anyone down, who was expecting to see me. But, as I’m sure you’ll understand, I had to put my family first.

So that was the first shitty event.

Today, I learnt my oldest and first-ever friend passed away after a six year battle with cancer.

I’ve mentioned my friend Eddie in my previous post about horror movies. I’ve known him since infancy and he was my best friend through childhood. He introduced me to many of the things I still enjoy today, things which influence me as a writer.

I remember when we were about eight years old we went to a village fete and he entered the fancy dress competition. Most of the other boys our aged who entered were either dressed as ninja turtles or astronauts. Eddie dressed as Count Dracula. Even at that young age he was into his horror.

This was the guy I snuck in to see Scream 2 and Halloween:H20 with. Those movies were rated 18 and we were 14/15 years old. On both occasions there was a fault with the projector. Scream 2, the picture was split in two; what should have been the top half of the screen was on the bottom and the bottom half on the top. For twenty minutes we had to watch Neve Campbell literally standing on her head. With Halloween:H20 the first twenty minutes was out of focus. We figured it karma for sneaking in.

Regrettably, we drifted apart as we entered late teens/early adulthood. The last time I saw him was 2000/2001. He wore black nail polish and styled his hair like Robert Smith from the Cure. I didn’t get it at the time and I thought, “What the hell are you on?” He’d turned goth whereas I was embracing my inner mod. I think we both knew that day we had finally grown apart without saying so. Neither of us spoke again.

Looking back I realise he looked cool AF and wish I could go back and tell him that. I think as adults in our thirties, and how my tastes have changed so much in the past decade, we would find common ground again.

I saw his parents for the first time since then last summer at my mum’s funeral. They said he was now living in Brighton and working as a web designer. They kept his illness quiet. I suppose it wasn’t the time or the place to mention it.

So yeah, it’s been a shitty couple of months. But we take the rough with the smooth and life goes.