4am : I'm awake and I'm having contractions, not cramps, proper REAL spaced out contractions. Nothing that happens now can be prevented, if they stop soon I might be OK but if not, I'm going to miscarry and soon. There is nothing left to do or say. I'm surprised how strong they are, like labouring with Morgan, I'm even feeling a little spaced out already and having to move through the contractions. There has been no more bleeding, only spotting yesterday a tiny bit of brown blood. I am following my body's cues and doing what I need to do to work with the pains.
6am : It's over. At five o'clock I filled the bath, blocking the overflow to fill it to the top. I wasn't thinking about miscarriage any more, just about labour and my body and my need for the water to get through it. The contractions came hard and strong and regular, and I rode them every minute or so for half an hour. One contraction came so strongly I had to move and leant forward in the water, my breath almost catching and then forcing myself to breathe out, blow the pain away.
I felt a pop of water and looked down to see a tiny fragile baby, floating in the water, almost comical like a tiny jellyfish. It took a moment of utter amazement and shock at seeing it to take it in, perfect and real. The shape of the head, almost-baby face, four limbs, a spine (white as white against the jelly pink translucent skin) and two tiny black dots of formless eyes.