Second Trimester: 21-22 Weeks Pregnant– A Quiet Few Weeks and a Very Special Walk

 The past couple of weeks have been beautifully quiet. No appointments, no hospital trips — just a stretch of calm, normality, and time to simply be pregnant. And honestly, it’s been really nice. When you’ve experienced pregnancy layered with worry, scans, and constant check-ins, a quiet few weeks can feel like a small gift.

At the end of 20 weeks, on Friday 18th July, I took on a walk that means a great deal to me — the Round Evesham Walk. It’s about 10km and loops around the town, through fields and quiet paths. I did this walk most days while I was pregnant with Louis — sometimes twice in a day. I even walked it while in labour. It had been a long time since I’d last done it, but I wanted to walk it again this year, around the time of Louis’s 5th birthday — now carrying his little brother.

There was something deeply emotional about doing it again, pregnant once more. As though the two of them were being introduced — brothers, five years apart, treading the same path. It kicked my bum, I’ll be honest. My dodgy knee flared up before I’d even hit halfway, and by the end I was completely wiped out. But it reminded me just how much strength I found while carrying Louis. I felt proud. I must have done that walk hundreds of times with him. It’s definitely encouraged me to get back into a walking routine again.

That weekend, as I turned 22 weeks, Graham and I escaped to our favourite place — Sennen Cove in Cornwall. We camped just outside the cove and slept on an air bed in our new tent. I wasn’t sure how well I’d cope with camping at five months pregnant, but surprisingly, I loved it. There’s something about the sea air, the simplicity of it all.

Around 21 weeks, I had one of those “quiet movement” days that catches you off guard. I kept checking in, wondering if he was just tucked into a corner. Thankfully, as the week went on, his movements picked up again. By 22 weeks, he’d found his rhythm. While camping in Cornwall, G felt a proper kick for the first time — a solid, undeniable thump from our boy.

Then on Tuesday 29th July, at 22+3, his big sister — my step daughter — got to feel him too. He’d been wild that day — the strongest kicks I’ve felt so far, and they were everywhere! Above my belly button, across my left side, and way down low too, putting real pressure on my lower abdomen. The day before, I’d had a strange pulling sensation on my left side — it reminded me of ovulation pain. I think it was just the way he was lying. Possibly transverse for a moment, though who knows with these little acrobats.

In between all the walking and kicking, I’ve been busy nesting — the thrifty way. I’ve found some absolute bargains on Vinted and Facebook Marketplace. So many of baby boy’s clothes are already sorted, and I’ve ticked off a big chunk of my essentials list — all for a fraction of the cost of buying brand new. I still need to get a baby wrap and carrier, the pushchair, and maybe a few 3.5 tog swaddle bags for winter, but honestly, I feel so prepared already. It’s such a different feeling this time around — not rushing, just steadily gathering and getting ready.

There’s still a long way to go, but these moments — sharing his kicks with the people who love him most, walking in Louis’s footsteps, falling asleep in a tent by the sea — they make everything feel a little more grounded, a little more real.

Here’s to the next few weeks — and a few more kicks to keep reminding me that he’s growing stronger every day.

Five Years Later: Louis, Love, and Life Rebuilt

Five years.

It’s hard to believe it’s been that long since I held my baby boy for the first—and last—time. Five years since my world shattered in ways I never thought possible.

In April 2020, life as I knew it came crashing down. I was 28 weeks pregnant when my ex-fiancé betrayed our family unit. I was carrying a terminally ill baby, and overnight, I found myself alone—heartbroken, terrified, and completely unprepared for the road ahead.

Back then, I kept the breakdown of my family a close guarded secret for weeks. I didn't whisper a word, I took solitude in the quiet, and walked. I walked a lot. Walking off the pain and isolating myself further in the already isolated world of Covid Lockdown. It's funny how time spurs you on and gives you perspective, because in the same breath, it doesn't always grant forgiveness. Forgiveness for me, just isn't possible. I live and let live, but I will never, ever forgive. 

Louis was born at 37 weeks in the middle of the night, meaning for me that he will always have a 2 day birthday. The 21st July being the day I laboured and made that journey to meeting him, the day he was alive. Being born in the thick of night meant, that he was gone before the sunrise even appeared in the sky on the 22nd. Although Louis's birth certificate states he was born on the 22nd, I dedicate 2 days to him every year.

He was beautiful, perfect, and so heartbreakingly fragile. He lived for just two hours. Two precious hours that I will cherish for the rest of my life. He passed away in my arms, and with him went every plan I had made. 

My baby boy was gone. 

My relationship was over. 

My home was lost. 

My future, blank.

I didn’t know then how I would survive it.

But here I am, five years later, standing in a life I never could have imagined back then. Somehow, I survived, and I didn't just survive, I found myself again, I stood tall and found my own happiness on an entirely new path. 

I found that I was exactly where I am supposed to be, surrounded by the people that I was destined to do life with. For just how hellish 2020 was, the times I didn't think I would make it through... I look back now and know that everything happened for a reason. Everything happened to put me on this new path, and to teach my the hardest lessons of my life.

Because what 2020 tore apart, life has rebuilt in its own quiet, unexpected way.

I have a new partner —one who is kind, present, and loving. My best friend, and as of May 27th 2025... My husband!  I am pregnant again, carrying Louis’s little brother, and this time I feel supported, not abandoned. We’re buying a home. Building something solid. Something rooted in love, not fear.

It’s strange, isn’t it? How everything can fall apart and test the very fibers of your being—and yet, somehow, you find yourself exactly where you’re meant to be.

Back then, I thought life was punishing me. But now I realise it was redirecting me. Slowing me down. Making me listen. Making me choose myself.

Everything went wrong until I started listening to my gut, saying no to what wasn’t right, and trusting that better was out there—even if I couldn’t see it yet.

Louis taught me how to love deeply and lose bravely. He changed me forever, and I carry him with me in every decision I make. Louis is spoken about all the time, his name and face enter my mind each and everyday. 

He may have been gone for 5 years now, but I remember him every single day. I know he’d be proud of how far we've come. Of how I kept going when everything hurt.

So today, five years on, I honour my boy. I honour the pain, the growth, the transformation.

Life didn’t end in 2020. It just began again.

Happy 5th Birthday, Louis.

I wonder who you would be today, what you would be doing. The memories we would and should have made. I know that you are up there watching over us, and helping me grow your baby brother to be big and strong. 

You are always and forever in my heart <3

You’ll always be my favourite what if.

Second Trimester - The 20 Week Anomaly Scan

 20 Week Scan – Halfway There

This week, something started to shift in a really magical way — the movements that once felt like faint pops and gentle pushes began to feel more like actual little kicks. They still weren’t strong enough to be felt from the outside just yet, probably because of my anterior placenta cushioning things a little. But I could definitely tell that our baby boy was getting stronger every single day.

One evening, Graham had his arm resting across my stomach, and just as baby boy wriggled, he looked up and said he could feel something too. It wasn’t a full-on kick, but it was enough to know he was there — active and growing. It’s these tiny shared moments that make everything start to feel even more real.

On Monday 14th July, I reached 20 weeks and 2 days pregnant with our baby boy — officially halfway. Half baked, as they say. It’s such a milestone, and it came around so quickly.

My scan was booked for the morning at our local hospital, just down the road, so I was able to pop out from work for an hour. Graham couldn’t make it this time, but since we’d had the consultant scan at Worcester the week before — and been reassured that structurally, our little man was in good shape — I told him not to worry. We just needed confirmation on one thing: his tiny feet.

I promised I’d call him the moment I came out of the appointment.

I sat in the waiting area feeling pretty calm. After the consultant had told us she couldn’t rule out club foot last week (only because she hadn’t managed to see both feet clearly), I’d quietly carried a small cloud of worry with me. But now, with everything else looking positive, I was holding onto hope.

I was called through to the same scan room we’d been in for our 12-week scan — the one just before the wedding back in May. It felt surreal to be back again, now visibly pregnant, time flying by.

I explained to the sonographer about last week’s scan and how important it was to get a good look at baby’s feet. She checked my notes and explained that since he was measured recently, they wouldn’t repeat that today — instead, they’d just be checking his anatomy and ticking things off.

And tick things off she did. Heart, brain, spine, kidneys, bladder, stomach — all there, all healthy. Then came the moment I’d been holding my breath for: the feet. Two perfect little feet, clear as anything on the screen. Not a single hint of club foot, left or right.

I instantly felt a wave of relief and happiness. One perfect little boy, growing exactly as he should.

There was good news all around — normal liquor volume, a healthy heartbeat, and no concerns flagged up. Because of Louis’s IUGR and low birth weight, they did say I’d probably be brought back for growth scans later on. They also checked the tiny blood vessels feeding the placenta — which was incredible in itself, hearing the beat of something so small. One side they got easily, but the other was being nudged repeatedly by a pair of little feet bouncing off my bladder! Still, the readings were good, and based on that, I may not need another NHS scan until 36 weeks.

I left with a fresh batch of scan photos, including one of his two perfect feet and another sweet side profile of his growing face. I called Graham the moment I stepped outside to share the news: he’s perfect. Everything looks beautiful.

And as for me? I’ve really popped this week. There’s no hiding this bump anymore! While waiting to be seen, a woman passing by smiled and told me how lovely and neat my bump looked — it was such a kind thing to hear.

We’re getting more and more organised by the day. Little man’s hospital bag is already mostly packed, just a few bits like nappies left to add. I’ve started gathering things for my own bag too, and ticking off the final bits on our baby checklist.

Everything is progressing beautifully. We’re halfway there. 

19 Weeks Pregnant: Back Under the Consultant’s Wing

On Monday 8th July, I walked back through the familiar doors of Worcester Hospital for my consultant appointment — now 19 weeks pregnant. It’s hard to believe the wedding was already six weeks ago. Life had shifted quickly since then. We were firmly back home and gradually settling into the calm after the chaos of our wedding and honeymoon.

Both Graham’s and my houses were sold, with completion just around the corner. We were full of excitement as we prepared to buy a beautiful Grade II listed family home in a local village — the kind of home that seems made for noisy breakfasts, muddy wellies by the door, and children running through the halls. It already felt like the perfect space to raise a family. The idea of bringing our baby boy home there in November felt incredibly special.

But first, came the hurdle of this scan. The 19-week consultant appointment. A chance to get a proper look at how our little man was growing — and, most importantly, to check his heart again after that sneak peak we had back at week 17. This was the moment we were hoping to finally exhale, to let ourselves believe that this time no matter what, we really were bringing our baby boy home.

My second son, Louis, was born in 2020. He had a congenital heart defect called Tetralogy of Fallot. While it was a condition that could have been surgically repaired after birth, Louis also had extremely low amniotic fluid throughout the pregnancy — which meant his lungs never developed. The combination of those two complications was ultimately unsurvivable. Louis lived for just a few precious hours.

Louis wasn’t Graham’s son, but Graham has been an incredible support through my pregnancy with him, my friend back then — patient, loving, and steady. He knows how much is riding on each appointment, each scan, and he came with me to this one as he has done all of them so far, both of us hoping for peace of mind.

Sadly, my usual consultant wasn’t available that day. I’ve formed such a strong bond with her, and she’s walked with me through every step of this journey. The stand-in consultant was kind and professional, but that deeper emotional connection was missing — and for me, that made the whole experience feel a bit more clinical, a bit more fragile.

As the scan began, I stayed quiet. I’ve learnt how vital these scans are, how much they can reveal — and how much hangs in the silence between each spoken word.

She carefully worked through the anatomy check, taking time to show us our baby boy’s heart and the way the blood was flowing. After a while, she said what I had been waiting for

“His heart looks fine.” Although we had the scan a few weeks back which set us up for this good news, it was nice hearing it officially at the scan where the thourough look was taking place.

Then came another sigh of relief — the amniotic fluid around him was still at a normal level. Something so simple, but after Louis, so significant. Two of the biggest hurdles… and we were clearing them.

She continued with her checks — brain, cerebellum, bladder, kidneys — and then she reached his little feet. That’s when she paused. A long pause. I knew immediately what she was looking to rule out club foot.

Baby boy had his feet crossed and absolutely refused to move. She jiggled my tummy, poked gently, tried everything — but he was not having it. Eventually, she was able to see the left foot and said it looked completely normal. But the right foot? He just wouldn’t show her.

She was clear with us: this didn’t mean there was anything wrong — just that she couldn’t see the right foot well enough to confirm. But for someone who’s experienced the trauma of loss, even words like “we just couldn’t get a view” can be enough to send you spinning.

I kept telling myself, “Even if he does have a poorly foot, we can fix it. He’ll be okay. He really will be okay.” But there was a moment earlier in the scan that kept playing in my head — when she asked, “Is this your first scan this pregnancy?” It left me wondering whether she had seen something that concerned her. And that little seed of doubt, once planted, is hard to ignore.

Eventually, I managed to talk myself down. Nothing had been found — just not seen. All I had to do was make it through the next few days until the 20-week scan on Monday 14th July, when hopefully, we’d get the reassurance we needed.

Because beyond that scan lies a dream I’ve held onto ever since we got that positive pregnancy test back in March.

To have a healthy baby.

To stay low-risk.

To have the water birth I’ve longed for.

To finally walk out of those hospital doors with my baby boy in my arms.

And to bring him home — really home — to our forever family house, where he belongs.

16 Weeks Pregnant: A Baby Boy and a Heart Full of Hope

After three blissful weeks away—starting with our wedding in Santorini and followed by an all-American road trip honeymoon across six incredible states—returning to London marked a whole new chapter of this pregnancy. I was 16 weeks pregnant, and there was no denying it anymore… I was showing! My bump had grown noticeably during those weeks abroad, and as I unpacked our cases, it dawned on me: my wedding dress absolutely wouldn't fit me now!

It’s funny, because while we were cruising along in our RV from Cruise America around the 14-week mark, I started to feel the faintest flutters. Baby flutters. At least, I thought that’s what they were. I’d never experienced quickening in either of my previous pregnancies with Leo or Louis before 20 weeks, so 14 weeks felt really early. There was no real pattern to them—some days there was movement, others there was nothing—but they were there. Soft little flicks that made me stop and smile.

At night, I was also feeling stretching pains—sharp, shooting sensations mainly when I was lying down. Everything felt like it was expanding and growing, which I suppose it was! At 15 weeks, I felt more of those tell-tale flutters. And one particular day in Nashville, I was certain our baby was dancing in response to cold drinks. It was such a reassuring little moment in amongst the constant swirl of excitement and anxiety.

Back in London, I knew I was at the point where I could book a gender scan. But before anything, I needed to speak to my midwife. I was expecting a referral back to Fetal Medicine and my consultant team around this time too. My 16-week check-up was booked for Monday 16th June 2025—the first proper appointment since we’d returned.

We heard baby’s heartbeat officially for the first time at that check-up. We’d been listening at home with our Doppler since 14 weeks, but hearing that whoosh-whoosh sound in the clinic was incredibly comforting. I shared my concerns about fluid levels around baby. It was around this gestation in my pregnancy with Louis that we first noticed things weren't right, and I was terrified history might repeat itself. Thankfully, my midwife contacted Worcester Hospital, and they offered me a scan for the following week—24th June.

But waiting felt impossible. I needed reassurance now. So I booked a private scan at Peek A Baby—the same clinic we’d visited for Louis’s gender scan and again earlier this pregnancy. We went on Thursday 19th June, filled with nervous anticipation. As soon as baby popped up on the screen, I could see how much he'd grown since our 12-week scan. And then came the moment I’d been so sure of all along… we were told we were having a boy! I’d felt it from the start. The symptoms mirrored my pregnancies with Leo and Louis so closely that I just knew. And I was right.

The fluid levels looked normal, too—another wave of relief. Graham was thrilled. This is his first boy, and I could see how much that meant to him.

A few days later, on the 24th, we attended our scan at Worcester Hospital. The moment my consultant from my pregnancy with Louis appeared and called my name, I felt instantly reassured. She gave me a hug the second we rounded the corner, and we walked into a room filled with the same familiar team. It was emotional, grounding, and oddly healing.

This scan felt like the ultimate test. If she was happy, I could finally exhale. Baby boy looked perfect on the screen, fluid levels normal, measurements on track. We even got a sneak peek at the heart, which looked healthy—a deeper heart scan was already scheduled for 8th July, but even the initial look gave us hope. She smiled and said, “It doesn’t look like you need us.”

I walked out of that appointment feeling lighter than I had in months. Two reassuring scans in five days—both saying baby was okay. That was all I needed.

That night, I opened the storage boxes with Leo’s baby clothes. I began sorting through them, washing and folding those tiny outfits with fresh joy. For the first time in this pregnancy, it all felt real. Hopeful. We are having a baby boy—and I’m allowing myself to believe we might just bring him home.

💙 16 weeks and falling in love with our son, one flutter at a time.

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Our Epic American Honeymoon: A Road Trip Adventure While Pregnant

After the wedding of our dreams in Santorini, we were ready to swap sunsets and Greek elegance for something rugged, spontaneous, and all-American—a road trip honeymoon across the United States. Armed with an RV, a couple of backpacks, and a growing baby bump, we took off on what would be the trip of a lifetime—just the two of us (well, technically three of us).

London Layover & Our First Burger

We waved goodbye to Santorini and landed back in London for one night. It was here our honeymoon officially began—with a juicy, no-frills burger that hit the spot after weeks of wedding prep and Mediterranean cuisine. The next morning, we jetted off to San Francisco.

Hello America – San Francisco & Alcatraz

Our first night in the States was spent in a Airbnb in San Francisco. The highlight? A visit to Alcatraz Island. We even met ex-inmate William Baker, who was there signing copies of his book—a surreal moment neither of us will forget.

Then, the real adventure began. We picked up our Cruise America RV and hit the road toward Lake Tahoe. This was the kind of honeymoon we’d dreamed of—freedom, fresh air, and uncharted roads.

Lake Tahoe to Yosemite – Coffee, Chipmunks & Snow-Capped Peaks

Thanks to jet lag, we were up at sunrise, sipping coffee in the woods and watching chipmunks scamper around. Lake Tahoe was breathtaking—clear blue waters, alpine air, and peaceful stillness. From there, we made a pitstop at Bodie State Historic Park, a preserved ghost town frozen in the 1800s, complete with crumbling wooden buildings, rusted wagons, and stories of California’s gold rush past.

Next stop: Yosemite National Park. The scenery changed dramatically—sunshine turned to snow, lakes were frozen over, and the peaks glistened with white. While hiking was off the cards (pregnancy doesn’t pair well with icy trails), we still soaked in the magic of Yosemite. That night, we camped under the stars and grilled BBQ steak on a $20 Walmart grill. Simple. Perfect.

Bridal Veil Falls was a surprise—it looked like a 5K hike on the map, but we reached it in less than a kilometre. Not that we were complaining!

Vegas via Death Valley – Heat, Storms, and Neon Lights

From Yosemite, we headed through Death Valley, and wow—the name fits. Rugged, dry, unforgiving… and utterly stunning. The heat was intense—like nothing I’ve ever felt.

Arriving in Las Vegas, the skies opened, and a wild storm welcomed us. We stayed at the Oasis RV Resort—easily the poshest stop of our trip, with full hook-ups and blessed air conditioning. We Ubered to the strip and saw the lights, fountains, and chaos of Las Vegas. It was fun, but not really our scene. The Bellagio Fountains were the standout.

The Grand Canyon, Route 66 & Buttermilk Pancakes

From Vegas, we swung by Hoover Dam, then headed through Williams, Arizona, where Graham indulged in some (safe and legal!) automatic gun shooting—something he can’t do back home in the UK.

We finally reached the Grand Canyon, found a secluded forest clearing to camp for free, lit another BBQ, and grilled steak once again. Waking up to birdsong and crisp air, we made our way to the Canyon’s edge. The views were unreal—an endless expanse of rock, shadow, and light. No photo will ever do it justice.

Driving east, we jumped onto Route 66, stopping at Galaxy Diner in Flagstaff where we met true American portions for the first time. We couldn’t even finish our pancakes! Then we saw signs for Meteor Crater, a massive, perfectly preserved crater caused by a meteor impact over 50,000 years ago. Standing on the edge of it was both eerie and awe-inspiring.

We drove late into the night and tried boondocking for the first time—camping off-grid, without hookups, in a roadside clearing. It was raw, wild, and liberating and completely legal!

Lubbock Storms & Cowboy Hats

After rolling through Roswell (where we quickly realised the famous crash site was far from town), we made our way into Lubbock, Texas, and found an RV park just in time to be told they were on tornado watch after just having one the previous night! We could see the dark clouds rolling in, and before long, thunder and lightning were lighting up the sky.

While in town, we stumbled across a proper western shop called El Herradero—a treasure trove of boots, hats, belts, and more. Graham treated himself to a cowboy hat, which they steamed and shaped to fit him perfectly. He looked right at home, and we left feeling a little more Texan than when we arrived.

Fort Worth Stockyards – Cowboys, Longhorns & A Wild Texas Night

From Lubbock, we headed east to Fort Worth, a stop I had been so excited for—and it lived up to everything I hoped for and more.

Arriving at the Stockyards, we were instantly transported into cowboy country. The streets were steeped in Western charm, lined with saloons, boot shops, and old brick buildings that looked like a movie set. We caught the iconic longhorn cattle parade, where these majestic beasts were calmly walked down the historic streets. It was surreal, beautiful, and iconic all at once.

We browsed a maze of Western stores, picked up a few treasures, and soaked in the authentic feel of the place. Fort Worth had grit, warmth, and a kind of timeless magic about it.

That evening, the tornado alerts started blaring again on our phones. We brushed them off at first—false alarms had become something of a theme by now—but things escalated fast. The wind picked up, the sky turned a deep, ominous grey, and then came the pounding rain.

Suddenly, we heard cars screeching out of the RV park and people shouting and running. That’s when we knew it wasn’t just a typical storm. Graham looked at me and said, “Let’s get dressed and find shelter.”

So we quickly got ourselves together and ran across the car park to the public bathrooms, which were being used as an emergency shelter. There we stood, fully dressed, watching through the cracks in the doors as the storm roared. Thunder cracked like cannon fire, the wind howled, and rain flooded everything in sight. It was one of those moments that felt both terrifying and completely unforgettable.

The next day, with clearer skies and still buzzing from the night before, we went back to the Stockyards and visited the Cowtown Coliseum. We watched a live bull fighting show, which was raw, energetic, and a little wild—like Texas itself. It was incredible to see it all unfold in such a historic venue.

Fort Worth gave us everything: iconic sights, unpredictable weather, and unforgettable moments. It's a place that will always hold a special spot in our hearts.

Houston, Space Center & Nashville Finale

Our final RV stop was Houston, where we returned our beloved Cruise America van after driving 2,667 miles across six states. The RV had everything—comfy bed, working kitchen, and a fridge big enough for steak and bacon. We truly loved it.

We celebrated Graham’s birthday at the Houston Space Center, ate at the famed Truth BBQ, and then flew to our last stop—Nashville.

Nashville was the city we both fell for. Country music playing on every corner, neon lights, cowboy boots, and pure heart. We bar-hopped our way through Tootsies, Bell Bottoms Up, The Stage, and Goodnight Nashville.

The craziest moment? Standing at the bar in The Stage and spotting a familiar face on guitar. It was Paul Sidoti—Taylor Swift’s lead guitarist! He kindly took photos with me and even threw me a Lover guitar pick (thanks to Graham’s quick reflexes!).

The End (and the Beginning)

We flew home glowing with memories and a little bump now at 16 weeks. Our adventure was over, but a new one was just beginning. And just days later… we’d find out whether we were having a little boy or girl.

2,667 miles. 6 states. One growing baby. A lifetime of memories.

Our honeymoon wasn’t just a road trip. It was freedom, joy, chaos, laughter, and love—on wheels.