Sunglasses to hide the tears, music to block the pain.

This weekend I travelled the 200 mile journey from London where I live to my mum's. Lots of wedding chores this weekend. Arrived at half nine and had a delicious takeaway curry. Went to bed and spent time looking through old photos of the family. Looking at photos of my brother and I when we were little filled me with melancholy. As I flicked through photo after photo of christmases, family holidays and grinning smily children with their whole futures ahead of them I felt bittersweet sorrow. I had a lovely childhood and grew up in a loving home. The little girl in the photo splashing in the pool, unwrapping presents, blowing out cables, being tickled and grinning endlessly will grow up and struggle to have a baby. She may never be able to create memories for a child of her own. I went to bed feeling rather sorrowful.

The next day I had my wedding hair trail, it went really well. My hair looked better than I imagined and my mum loved the bonding. Next was my dress fitting. I bought a vintage wedding dress on eBay a few months ago. It doesn't fit quite right, plus I want embellishments (more petticoats etc). The seamstress was ace. Chatty, confident and totally got the quirky vintage style I was trying to create. Suitably reassured and cheered up no end, I suggested a spot of shopping and lunch.

Off we went, happily browsing and picking up a few bits and bobs here and there. I needed the loo. That's when I realised, horrid nasty old Aunty Flo had arrived totally unexpectedly and she was 2 or 3 days early. Funnily enough I was relieved at first. I mean, at least I won't be on knicker- watch for the next 2 days and constantly poking my boobs to see if they hurt. I felt OK and surprised myself.

On the train back to London was when it hit me. My body has failed me again. It doesn't work. I can't do what so many others find easy. Thoughts of those horrible forum discussions crept in my mind, the things those bitches said - it's not life threatening, giving treatment to people like me causes people who need "more important" treatment to suffer, society hates me. It thinks I don't have a right to a baby. It thinks having a baby is a lifestyle choice.

I plugged myself into my iPod. I cracked up the volume to drown out my thoughts and stared out of the window as tears poured from my eyes - unseen as I was wearing a pair of sunglasses that I had happily purchased only a few hours ago.