Yesterday, my world held two distinct possible futures: the one with children and the one without. Today is Sunday. I sit on the cold bathroom floor, half-dressed, staring at the digital display. A big part of me knew already. I think I even knew when they gave me the little scan of it in there, the only souvenir I would ever have. A souvenir of my heart, my time and my £6,000... Because that's what it has been. My investment: my time, my tears, my heart, my body. Not his. Because it is all for me, I am told. All of it. For me. Not for him. Not for us, like he said in the beginning. Just for me. And the pressure has been unbearable.'