23/09/2015 12:57 BST | Updated 23/09/2016 06:12 BST

Recurrent Miscarriage: Where Do I Go From Here?

This was not the blog post that I was planning to write today.

But this is the blog post that I NEED to write today.

You see, my dear readers, I can't really pretend any longer. I can't keep pretending that I am okay. That I am making the changes I need to make myself feel better.

Because I'm not.

And sitting here right at this moment, I am depressed.

I just want to go to bed and sleep for one hundred years.

I don't want to feel the heart ache any more. I don't want to feel the emptiness. The loneliness.

I know I am not the only person in the world suffering or feeling heart ache. I know that there are people in this world who are currently experiencing atrocities that I could never comprehend. But the truth is I am not them. They are not me. And I only feel what I feel.

And I feel depressed.

On Friday, I had a hysteroscopy. It was the final test that the NHS will offer us in our investigations into the recurrent miscarriages.

It didn't give any answers. My miscarriages remain unexplained. It could be bad luck. It could be a chromosomal issue. We might never know.

And that for me is the worst development. I know, it is ridiculous to want something to be wrong. But I wanted there to be something wrong with me so that there was a reason for the miscarriages.

Stupid! I know.

But now there is nothing left. We want another baby. I now yearn for another baby with every fibre of my being. And so we keep on trying and hope that we strike gold.

But I am fearful.

And I am angry. I am angry with the world. With God. But most of all with myself.

Why can I not keep a child alive in my body? Why could I do it once but not now?

I have always struggled with how I see myself.

I can't ever say I particularly like myself. Most of the times I tolerate myself. Or I accept that I have both good and bad qualities.

But at the moment, I despise myself. I feel odious. I don't even want to spend time in my own company.

And this scares me. More than anything. Because these feelings that I have described above they are symptoms. They are symptoms of my depression.

And I have known that they, and other symptoms, have been creeping up on me. Stealthily. Oh so stealthily. But with absolute certainty.

What can I do about it? Well, I know all the practical things I need to do. But I just can't bring myself to do them.

So, where do I go from here? I don't know. I really don't know.

I am just hoping that I will feel better in the morning.