In 2004, my partner Jane fell pregnant. We hadn't been together long, just over a month in fact. We were still really just getting to know each other, but that, as we are all aware, if not careful can result in exactly what happened. I've always wanted kids at some point, but only once I had got settled into life. By that I mean the stable job, a roof over my head that was mine and not owned by someone else etc., not rich, just comfortable with enough time to spare to enjoy the growing up years. But of course that's in an ideal world, not this one. In this one I was just getting there - ish.

My job wasn't perfect, but it gave me enough money to do the things I wanted to do. I was a driver for a removal company and spent my days lugging other people's furniture about the country to their new homes. It was a simple job, and an honest job. There was no rubbish. Customers could see how hard you worked, and most of the time people were appreciative and I liked that. Jane had just got a job in a local shop so between us we were managing well. Then came the news, I cannot put quite into words the different emotions I felt when she had told me. Shock was definitely one of them, closely followed by panic, and then waves of being pleased, then panic again. The main reason for the panic (though I do understand most new fathers do feel this way) was because of the short time we had actually known each other. I knew shortly before we had got together that Jane had been seeing someone, and because it was such a short time I couldn't absorb myself in the happiness that Jane felt for becoming pregnant as much as I really did want to. This was due to the slight possibility that the child wasn't mine. Even working the dates out didn't really help ease the suspicion, I hadn't known Jane long enough (and vice-versa) to know whether to trust her, but apparently (as Jane pointed out) that was also because I'm a man.

So - decision time, this is so you can get an idea of where my head was at this time. I'm going to be a father of a baby I'm not going to know is mine for 9 months. What do I do? Do I see the pregnancy through and hope, or do I run run run, and maybe check in 9 months and see if he/she has my nose! (Poor thing). Well, running was going to be difficult at best - especially as it was my own place I would be running from. Jane was so happy, abortion was not an option, so packing her off to her mothers was creeping higher on the list. My head was all over the place, but deep down though I really was pleased. Something inside was saying to me,

'Well done mate! You're gonna be a father, your life's direction has been set, enjoy it!'

Christmas was nearing, Jane was 6 months into the pregnancy, we had the scans, we knew the sex. Our parents had already started shopping for things that of course we wouldn't like, but would have to have. We couldn't go anywhere without someone commenting on how big Jane was, and asking how long until she was due. Jane looked great and healthy, even though the extra weight was starting to make her look forward to the due date. I was still working right up until a few days before Christmas, some money had been saved and things were, all in all, good.

Christmas was a fairly quiet affair with my parents staying for Christmas dinner and Jane's parents visiting in the evening. All the presents were baby related (surprise, surprise); noisy toys, colourful toys, soft toys, clothes, the list goes on and of course the obligatory socks and bathroom stuff that would still be on the shelf come next year. It was a good Christmas. The only thing we hadn't got was a cot, it was a purchase we decided to make a little nearer the date. Also, space in the now baby-stuff filled flat was becoming a premium.

New Year's Eve consisted of a gathering around at our neighbour's flat, a usual affair that consisted of the usual things - people and drink. Jane of course couldn't drink. She maybe had a glass of wine which she enjoyed with a cigarette, she never quite managed to give up fully the smoking through the pregnancy - which I didn't agree with but didn't hassle her about it much, mainly due to the fact that I also smoked. Big Ben sounded on the TV, and fireworks fired off outside. The New Year was here - 2005, fantastic! Jane felt a little tired so we called it a night and headed back to our flat, I was still full of cheer and probably quite annoying to the fairly sober Jane so she very kindly (almost gladly) let me wander back down the hall to the neighbour's to finish a few more of their drinks. When I returned Jane was in bed asleep. I made as much noise as a drunken man tries not to make and climbed in beside her and went to sleep, she got up and made a hot drink.

New Year's Day, I'm not quite sure when exactly, I think we had just had some lunch and were walking the dog around the block, Jane felt a twinge. We stopped a while, then walked back to the flat. She felt okay, I can't remember whether she had had anymore of the twinges but I know I thought,

'Oh my god.'

I couldn't find her. The waiting room was empty and quiet. A woman appeared from a back room to Reception and I made her jump as I approached the glass. The woman told me,

"She has been taken to the Maternity Ward,"

Why had they taken her there? Is she having it now? What could be wrong?!

"Oh, she's down there,"

"I'm sorry."

"I can't detect a heartbeat, I'll get a doctor."

"I'm sorry but your baby doesn't have a heartbeat, and has died."

Jane exploded into tears. I just held her. I have no idea if the doctor said anything else or what. The nurse just stood and stared at us both. She may have had said something, but I have no idea what. I asked her to leave us alone. Which she did. I don't know for how long, when she came back she had leaflets and began to tell us what happens next,

"We have to induce you, we take pictures of you and the baby."

"So what happens now?"

"We have to induce Jane into labour. This is done via a pill that eventually causes her to go into labour."

"It could take up to a week, maybe longer, before she goes into labour. She can either stay here, and we will make a room up for her, or she can go home until she starts getting signs."

Whaaat?!

"She has to carry our dead baby inside her for all that time, can't she have a c-section?"

"No, we rather she goes through the birth naturally. After the birth, we clean and weigh the baby, take photos for you and do hand and feet prints. You can have pictures taken of you holding your baby."

'This has got to be a sick joke.'

I couldn't think of anything more disturbing. I had visions of a camera like you get at Alton Towers at the high point of the worst ride flashing you, and a nurse handing you the picture as you leave the hospital. How bloody awful. There was no way I wanted Jane to hear all of that. The doctor came out of the room and told me Jane had taken the first of the pills, and that he would check back in on her in a few hours. Jane sobbed through the night. I was numb. I had mixed emotions, in fact emotionless was probably more accurate. Somehow the night passed. The next few days were spent just going through the motions. Jane's parents went to the flat and removed all of the baby stuff. Jane came home for a couple of nights I think, but we were constantly back and forth - well I was anyway. Four days after New Year's Day, Jane started to have labour pains. I sat beside her, the nurse hooked up the gas and air which we both made use of. I think at one point we had had far too much and a nurse, obviously solemn due to the circumstances, walked into the room to find us laughing and smoking in the toilet. The laughing didn't last long though, Jane's waters broke and the birthing process began. I was with her through it. She is the strongest person I know.

Once the baby was born, the nurses took him away, cleaned him and brought him back - a baby boy wrapped in a blanket as if asleep, all fingers, all toes and my hair and nose. The most beautiful thing. Jane held him with me as we sat on the bed and the nurses took a picture. They had put a little blue bear in the blanket with him, which we still have, along with some locks of his hair and hand and foot prints. At the time the worst things are now my most precious.

Jane came home the next morning, I left my job and stayed home with her, both not wanting to face the world. The hospital gave a cause of death after a post-mortem a few weeks later, stating that there was a thrombosis of the feeding tube causing it to block. We had to go and register the birth and death, which I found crazy and upsetting. It took months before a sort of normality returned, and still I don't think it ever will. Everything gets affected. I haven't worked properly since.

I've written this because I need too. I hope you read this and think. Think about the person you just 'pulled', or the last person you had unprotected sex with. Think,

'How well do I know this person?'