On a night out a few years ago, a friend announced she was pregnant with her third baby. Cue celebratory hugs and excited questions about morning sickness and the due date.
As the happy mum-to-be finished answering all our enquiries, she looked over at my mineral water and cheekily said with a raised eyebrow, "And why aren't you drinking?".
I understood at the time that she meant no harm, people have been asking me in myriad ways if I was pregnant since I got married in 2003 at 24 years old. On this occasion, the question was playful. Wouldn't a surprise second pregnancy have added to our collective joy?
Watch: A tribute to the babies we've lost and the significance of remembering their names. Post continues below.
The trouble was, I had recently been pregnant but then suffered a third painful miscarriage in our quest to conceive a second child. The barrage of curious 'when are you having another baby?' questions I received as a mum to an only child often hurt and wore me down. Reminding me of the fact I was no longer pregnant, but desperately wanted to be. It's only now that I am in my early 40s with two kids at school that people have thankfully stopped asking.