I've changed my mind.
It's not October I want to go back to. It's the me I was that afternoon. The he that D was. Sitting in the assessment unit, bored as anything and hungry for our lunch.
Because we genuinely, truly, 100% believed that everything was OK. That the baby was just lying too low down to hear its heartbeat. It really hadn't occurred to us that anything could be wrong. Or, no - it had, but we'd discounted it. My midwife had said it was probably OK. The midwives at the unit didn't look worried. They seemed to be in no rush to get us in for the scan. Surely if there was any chance something was wrong they would have whisked us in by now. And anyway. We were way past 12 weeks. No pain. No bleeding. There was nothing wrong. How could there be?
I had considered sending D back to work when the midwife sent me to the hospital. I felt guilty for stopping him from going back - he had work to do! and everything was OK! - but he never considered not coming with me.
I don't know what I would have done without him.
I can't believe that, if (pleasegodno) we ever find ourselves in that situation again, we'll be able to believe that there is the slightest chance that everything is OK.
It's going to be hard.