This has been a week of two halves and I’ve had a pretty emotional time of it. Both Craig and I have been plagued with insomnia, sore throats, and earache, and poor old Dex has a front tooth coming through.

Despite this, I was optimistic that we’d finally get a positive pregnancy test and we’d be one step closer to being a family of four.

The signs were a little flaky as we had already tested ridiculously early and had a negative, but as March wore on there was no sign of Mother Nature. My chest felt heavy, I had a metallic taste in my mouth, and I was regularly being sick (with Dexter I was sick pretty much from Day 1). Although both Craig and I were both under the weather, our symptoms were hardly alike and I couldn’t help but feel a little excited.

Yesterday I rang Craig whilst he was working and convinced him to buy us another test. He was reluctant as he didn’t want me to have my hopes dashed but I can be pretty insistent and he relented. Needless to say, the test was negative. I threw it across the kitchen in frustration and curled up on the sofa sulking.

Later in the evening I was pouring myself a drink when I spotted the bastard thing in the corner and went to toss it in the bin - a quick glance down and the result had changed - it was positive. Faint. But a positive.

I bounded into the living room and pounced on Craig like Beethoven. It was impossible to get the smile off my face and I kept on and on to Craig saying “I knew it. I knew it” like there had never been any doubt. Craig was less optimistic and fished the instructions out of the bin to find an explanation for what was a conclusive negative magically turning into a positive.

I was due to go the doctors today for an unrelated blood test. We resolved that I’d beg the nurse to do a HCG screen and wait out the results. I promised I’d not get too excited and would wipe the grin off my face until we had confirmation. But come on, this is Gemma and I had a sneaky plan to test again today.

So today, after my blood test, I bought a Clearblue twin pack at the pharmacy and rushed home to test. I don’t need to tell you it was negative. To top it all off, just half an hour later, my period came.

All I’ve wanted to do all day is cry and sleep, yet I still can’t sleep, and neither could Dexter. We lay in bed with me stroking his hair, and him wincing through the pain of his latest tooth coming through. I’d truly forgotten what a bitch trying for a baby is. It feels like we’ve had heartbreak upon heartbreak since losing the baby back in January and I’m getting impatient. The thought of going through all this again next month is positively exhausting.

Now Craig is home we’ve had a few cuddles and vowed to try harder next month. I know we’re putting a lot of pressure on ourselves but it’s a dream of ours to have two under two so we’ll have to pick ourselves up keep on going.

Wish us luck x