I left the house at the beautiful morning moment where every second it seems to get lighter. In the ten minutes it took to get to the medical centre it went from night to morning.
Technically the centre is not open until 7am. But the security guard lets me in anyway? 'IVF' he asks, before buzzing me up to the 4th Floor. In a weeks time he will recognise my face and not need to ask. He is lovely, kindly allowing us to wait in the warm, carpeted waiting room rather than on the street.
As I leave the elevator it hits me that last time I was in the centre, was the last time I saw Thumper alive. It is a strange, wonderful, hard, crazy thought. I push down thoughts of might-have-beens, and enter the room.
I write my name on the blood test list, and pick up a magazine.
The nurse calls out my name and I enter the room. I'm waiting for her to say the words that she has said before. She takes her time, busy filling in paper-work and preparing the equipment. But she gets there.
'Don't take this the wrong way, but I was really hoping I wouldn't see you again'
I gave a sad smile 'We made it to 9 weeks last time'. She turns around and gives me the most loving look. 'You poor thing. I've been there, done that. You don't know how hard it is until you've experienced. And after trying so long!'.
I tell her Thumper's story, the story of a different medical centre and the horrible truth it revealed. She takes my blood, I barely notice. I've had so many blood tests.
By the time I get out the sun is well and truly up, though the sky is still a pale blue. And then my day begins, and I pretend that nothing extraordinary is going on.
It begins again...