Charlie and I lived and worked in London as a newly wed married couple, we explored the delights of being young and free in the great sprawling capital. Nights out, drinks parties, long walks in Richmond Park, packs of darling joyous friends. He and I lived, worked and loved our time together. Our shared practical passion was for the most part all about property. Bouncing from 1 modest flat conversion we moved onwards and upwards, living amidst plaster dust, feasting on late night takeaways and sleeping on blow-up mattresses. No job too small or too big, we were game on for it all.
Eventually we were living resplendently in our West London town house, life was tremendous, I was Acting, writing and designing, doing a bit of telly, going on tour, whilst he was publishing, building websites and learning computer programming. Then one day we discovered we were going to have a baby. I will never forget the feeling, the joy, the love and the overwhelming sense of something so momentous that had captured us both, we began to make those nebulous plans that hopeful parents do.
Then one bleak sunday morning, Charlie had nipped out for croissants and a paper, whilst I dozed in our beautiful sun filled bedroom, it all went terribly wrong. The next few hours, days are in all honesty still a blur, a dim but never forgotten memory always underpinned by a deeply rooted feeling of loss and pain. I had miscarried and our first baby was not to be.
For any couple who have experienced such a loss, my heartfelt blessings to you. Those unborn souls do stay with us, they are part of our journey always.
So for Charlie and I, this experience quite literally stopped us in our tracks, we decided we really did want a family, wanted to try for another baby and most of all we wanted to create a home, not in London, some where we could be grounded and with space about us, somewhere free and open and fresh. Both children of rural country upbringings, this felt right.
Next we went to visit my mother on the Isle of Arran, to share our sad news and recover. On the way off the island, travelling to visit Charlie’s father and stepmother on Lismore, we drove through a Glen, by the name of Glendaruel and at the top end of a long, long road, we spotted a ‘For Sale’ sign. Ever intrepid, we tipped down the drive and took in our first sight of the ruined Dunans Castle.
In awe, we stood on the bridge and gazed at the huge sad shell of a house. I held Charlie’s hand and looked into his bright clear eyes, shining, as ever with adventure and I knew our lives had just changed significantly, forever.
(The photo of me standing on the bridge was taken on the day we discovered Dunans). Note the high heels!
Footnote:
For help and support and to understand about miscarriage contact:
http://www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk
Do speak out and share your experience, it happens to so many women and we should find the space to express our thoughts and feelings to help others, ourselves, and future generations, to move forward, to connect and heal.
