There's a give away happening over on my other blog.

Tomorrow I will be taking my Flossie's Garden products to the Handmade Market I'm excited and slightly nervous. I hope all my local readers will bob along to say hello, and browse the stalls. Stockport market place has had a huge facelift over the past couple of years, and it's a lovely place to visit, good pubs,cafe's and interesting little shops, and of course Staircase House is well worth a visit. Why not make a day of it?
10% of all my sales tomorrow will be donated to SANDs in memory of our beautiful Florence Violet.

I left candles and lanterns burning last night. after Ernest was asleep I crept back downstairs to look at them in the dark. Before going to sleep I checked on them again through my bedroom window.
Woody kept reassuring me that the garden couldn't burn down, (everything is always so damp here in the North West.) but I wasn't worried about that. I was worried because I couldn't keep vigil. I needed to be next to Ernest in case he woke, and I needed to sleep.
During the night, Ernest woke for milk. He snuggled onto my lap,head against my breast and I gave him his milk. I was tired and my eyes closed, but the moonlight was streaming through the gap in the curtains, and right into my face. In my half asleep state, I could almost hear "Mummy", "Wake up".
Throughout the night I woke frequently, and just to confuse things more I also dreamed I was awake.
This morning, I woke myself up crying.
There was a thick mist across the garden as I padded downstairs to get Ernest some milk.
The lanterns all safely snuffed out.
Facing her third birthday without her was bad enough, but what's worse is facing the rest of my life without her. I still just want my baby back.

Three years ago we gathered with friends and family to say goodbye.
I remember Angus writing your name on his little note to you, and my brother in pain because he'd burnt his face welding without a mask and the sun was blazing down...
So much of that day is clear in my minds eye, and so much more is a muddle.
Wish you were here, all I can do is light candles, it's pretty feeble really. I'm sorry. x

I haven't pumped milk for a week. We made it past Ernest's second birthday, and you know that mostly feels ok.
Two years is far from my ideal, both my older boys breastfed right into their fourth years, and only weaned because I was heavily pregnant with their next sibling. Even then, it was a gentle process.
I've tried to wean myself from the pump in a gentle way too.
Ernest was down to just two very small bottles of breastmilk, morning and night. Topped up with extra bottles of cows milk.
I'm sitting here now, finally free from the pump, but it still hangs there on the bed frame...I might put it away today.
Ernest will continue to have bottles of cows milk when he needs them. He still needs the comfort of sucking, and I'll never deny him that.

My poor poor Flossie's Garden project has been so neglected since the end of last year, but I'm jumping straight back in, and starting out with a craft fayre in my local market, wish me luck!