At the beginning of lockdown I had a miscarriage

At the beginning of the lockdown I had a miscarriage. I didn’t know, I went for the first routine scan and the doctor kept asking if my periods were regular, kept poking about and then just told me there was no heartbeat, the pregnancy wasn’t going ahead and I also had a big cyst on my left ovary. Just like that. No sugar coating. I didn’t really take it in initially it was all so perfunctory. I saw the screen. I saw the still little ball that should have been my baby. The dark mass inside me. As I got dressed it sunk in and I silently sobbed behind the curtain as the doctor tapped away on the other side. She printed out the diagnosis letter and scan pictures. Told me I’d get a call when the operation to remove the miscarriage was booked. I took the papers and ran out the door, out the building, tears streaming down my face and ran to my car to sit and cry until I could stop for long enough to be able to see again to drive home. The op was the following week and until then I held it all together ok. The day of the op I cried when I first got to the hospital and had to say what I was there for. A miscarriage. Even now that word breaks my heart. And when I woke up from the general anaesthetic and held my now empty lower abdomen. I cried and cried. The nurses told me to get it all out. It felt like I’d been to a funeral that evening, exhaustion after a day of grieving. 
Now I am fine most of the time, but not a day goes by when I don’t think about my lost love, my baby, who I would have loved with all my heart. During any quiet moments I get. In the early morning before anyone else is up, when I’m in the shower, cooking, walking. Sometimes I just collapse in a ball. Unable to go on. I think about how I would have been this many weeks by now, how my belly should be this big by now. And now I just found out the operation caused a big scar in my womb and so maybe I can’t get pregnant or carry a pregnancy to term again. I have so much love for the baby I lost and for the unborn, even yet to be conceived baby. To not be able to know if I’ll ever hold a newborn in my arms is breaking my heart every day. I dread the due date. I was counting on being pregnant again by then, but now that looks unlikely too and I don’t know how I’m going to get through it, my heartbreak is indescribable.