Finished this a couple of evenings ago, but only got around to weaving in the ends today.
I used this free pattern on Ravelry.This was a good stash busting project. I'm not much of a knitter,but I do like to have something on the go to do in the evenings while I watch rubbish telly. (my fave at the moment is Ghost Whisperer. The lead actress has a great wardrobe!)
The yarn is a Rowan 4ply I bought from a bargain bin about four years ago at Sewing For Pleasure. I still have lots left, but at least I've made a dent in my yarn stash.
Might cast on this tonight to stash bust some of the sock yarn sat lounging in my yarn basket, that, lets face it, is probably never going to be socks.

Well, you can now buy them direct from Spoonflower. (At least I have added them to the market place,but I think it might take a short while for them to show up, so it might mean checking back a few times.)

Firstly there is my large scale Grey Dahlia print. This is lovely for home dec, would make great curtains, cushions or blinds.








Secondly there is my small scale Blue Dahlias. A lovely small scale print ideal for childrens clothing, or handbags, I'm planning to make some Christmas ornaments with some of mine.



This fabric used in the outfit below was a mirror repeat, the fabric available to buy is a half step repeat which works better.





Just click on the designs if you'd like to buy. The prints are available in a choice of fabrics, including organic sateen, organic cotton knit, and bamboo. I'd recommend either the upholstery weight or cotton sateen for the Grey Dahlias, and quilting weight or organic cotton knit for the Blue Dahlias, but the choice is yours.
And if anybody does buy either of these, I would love to see what you make from them.
(you can email me direct at jeanette dot archer at gmail dot com )
Maybe this will finally give me the kick up the bum I need to get my sketchbooks out again, and work on that collection of fabrics I've been planning for so long.

We took the children to the hospital this morning for a health check, specifically to check their hearts. Firstly we thought we might not be able to see the doctor we know, as she was called urgently to A&E, which sent a shiver down my spine, and almost reduced me to tears on the spot.(As did seeing the doctor who tried to resuscitate Florence at the very end)
She came back in time to see us though, and I'm relieved to report that all four of the children are healthy with good beating hearts.
The doctor told us she'd seen the coroner on her way to see us, but there was still no news about the post mortem.No surprises there then.

Oh yes, and something frivolous but made me smile yesterday was this...that's the wedding dress I made for Heather featured in the main pic.(Thanks Caroline for pointing this out to me.)

Just a few months ago I'd imagined life once Sid went to school full time to be full of a new baby, LLL meetings, baby massage classes, Slingmeets. Lots of snuggly breastfeeds on the sofa. I expected to be busy.
I'm not, not busy now. There is always the daily efforts to stop the household sliding into utter chaos. Plus I still have plenty of good friends checking in on me and invites out for coffee and lunch.
I know though that sometime very soon I'm going to have to start thinking about the future and work.
My little business has never made me my fortune,but it kept me busy and paid for treats we might not otherwise have afforded.
I wont be going back to making baby carriers. The level of detail and involvement with the customer and their babies is not something I think I could cope with right now. Maybe one day, who knows.
So, the thought is there, something to ponder.
Meanwhile, today I've made a skirt. I could've been cleaning the bathrooms, or making our bed, or cooking tonights tea,but I guess I'll never be a Stepford wife. To hell with the housework and on with the sewing!
This skirt is made using the Amy Butler Barcelona Skirt pattern. The fabric is Botanical Pop cotton by Jackie Shapiro. (And yep the raw edges are deliberate.)

My hair is doing that three month post natal falling out thing, I guess in a few weeks I'll have all those little baby hairs growing through.
I don't need reminders that I was pregnant, I gave birth, I know I did those things. I just hate seeing those hairs falling and sighing to myself that yes,I did have a baby.
I recovered physically very quickly after birthing Florence. I joke to my friends that since she was baby number five it was like "shelling peas". Certainly after Sid's birth it was a breeze.
Florence barely left behind any physical reminders on my body. She was much smaller than Sid,so there were no extra stretch marks.
I'm just a few pounds heavier than I was this time last year.
Sometimes I wish I'd been left with a scar, or some extra stretch marks,something I could point to and say was her, but like I said I don't need physical reminders. I know.

...goes to me! I made two more pairs of Pj's after my post yesterday. These take only minutes to run up. Ikea cotton, fold over elastic waistbands, easy peasy!
(Wow! I sound almost perky!)

Tonight there will be bonfires being lit all over , and fireworks lighting up the skies. We usually go to a local display, and despite my misgivings mentioned before, I do usually enjoy wrapping up in winter coats, woollies, and wellies, and walking through the smoke filled night to stand and oooh and ahhhh at the colourful explosions.
The thought of it this year though,just seemed to fall flat without Florence to tuck inside my coat.
Instead we will be having fireworks in the garden, and dedicating them to Florence's memory.
We can stay warm inside,I can wear these new pyjamas I made this afternoon, and toast Florence with hot chocolate and parkin. (while Woody gets to be all manly playing with explosives in the garden!)
...
Pyjamas made from snuggly cotton flannel, using an ancient threadbare pair of Boden pj's as the pattern.

So this meeting we would like to talk about where you are. Where are you at in your grief. Has it been years or just weeks since you lost your baby. How are you feeling. How do you hope you will feel in the future. Have you found any peace at all?

It's been fifteen weeks and two days since Florence was born. I'm starting to think of the time in months now, so that would be just over three months. I find it impossible really to imagine her at three months old. I can guess how she'd look based on how the older children were at three months,but to me Florence is an eternal newborn.
I think three months is probably enough time that most people around me are starting to forget, well no, not forget,but for her not to be at the forefront of their minds.
I still think of her constantly.
I am coping, and slowly slowly adjusting to this new world. There are bad dark times, and brighter easier times,but the pain is still raw and it hurts like hell.
I know there is still a long way to go,but I also know I'm not falling apart and that's all I can do for now.
Peace comes at odd moments and for odd reasons.
This week peace came after meeting with one of the doctors who treated Florence.I realised that spending that time with the doctor talking about Florence, even though we were talking about her death reminded me of her realness. The doctor knew my daughter and spoke of her in such a tender way.Very few people met Florence, and it's hard to explain to everyone just how beautiful and real she was. So when the doctor said she was a "perfect little girl" my heart filled with gratitude, because I knew she meant it sincerely and she knew how real Florence was.
I'm not sure what I hope for in the future. The future is a scary thought. All I can really focus on is now, this moment, and if I do that every moment, every day then the future will come, and will just be.

Well, maybe not completely. This morning I was brave and I went into the baby department in John Lewis and bought next doors new baby a little soft bunny, and then I even browsed the new baby cards and bought one of those too. (The mother to be cards were a new one on me, and honestly they made me want to vomit with fear!)
I was feeling quite smug and proud of myself, until I got home, and just as I put my keys in the front door I could hear next door's keys too, my heart rate increased, I hastily turned my key and I was safe inside before anyone saw me. (pathetic I know, but it gets worse.)
I wrapped up the bunny, and wrote the card from *all* of us, then I sneaked quietly out the front door, leaned over the bushes and the fence that seperates our front gardens and silently placed the gift on their front step.
They'll find it eventually.

--

A little note
I don't think my neighbours read my blog,but I know some of my local friends do, and so it's entirely possible that my neighbours may stumble across my ramblings at some point, which is why I haven't before mentioned the new baby next door.
I'm pretty certain I don't have to point out to anyone how it might feel for me right now to know there is (hopefully) such joy next door, and that I may possibly be a hindrance to that joy being celebrated as openly as it deserves to be.
And it doesn't matter how much I try to say or do the right thing here,it comes out wrong.
I'm sad,I'm heartbroken, but I'm happy they have their baby in their arms to love.

Today Woody and I met with the consultant paediatrician who treated Florence. The post mortem results are still not back (fifteen weeks and counting.),and we still have no date for the inquest,but we all felt we needed to meet and just go over the events of Florence's death to try and get a few questions clear in our minds.
I was really nervous about the meeting, and had a prepared list of questions to ask.
The doctor was absolutely lovely. She talked us through Florence's treatment, and answered all of our questions.
We were a little surprised to hear her say that actually it may not have been a heart defect at all. She explained that they were treating Florence for either an "overwhelming bacterial infection" or a heart defect, as symptoms for both are very very similar, and until the post mortem results come back we wont know for sure if it was her heart.(I hope I understood that correctly.)
She also said, if it wasn't her heart,and was an infection we may never know what it was exactly.
I'm not at all sure what I think about that to be honest.
I do know that speaking with her has settled my mind more than I thought it would.
I told her I'd been worrying about our other children's health since Florence died, and she has made an appointment for her to see them all, and to check their hearts just to put my mind at rest.
I'm not at all sure how to explain to the children, especially the older girls that they need to go to hospital next week to check their hearts. I think they will make the connection between dead sister and check ups. I don't want to scare them. I'm going to have to think on that.
We are waiting to hear from the consultant Obstetrician for an appointment too. I hope that goes as well as today's.

Almost five years ago I passed my driving test,it was the day after I'd been sent for a viability scan at 17 weeks pregnant with Sid, and a week before Woody and I got married. A fairly stressful time.
I drove a handful of times, but my enourmously stupidly mahoosive bump (Sid was just under 11lbs!) meant that I pretty soon couldn't fit behind the wheel of the car, and after Sid was born I totally lost my nerve, and basically haven't driven since.
That is until a few weeks ago, when despite my bereavement midwife's concern that I might not be ready for the challenge I booked my self some refresher driving lessons.
It did take me a few weeks to pluck up the courage to even book the lessons, but I finally did it and have been pootling about Stockport under the guidance of my lovely (and patient) instructor,Sue.
One of the reasons I was reluctant to book the lessons in the first place was I was terrified of having that conversation, you know, the "so how many children..." one?
I finally decided though that my need to be able to drive myself to the cemetery to see Florence was stronger than my fear of small talk, prepared an answer just in case and booked the lessons.
So far though, the question hasn't arisen, much to my relief.
Then this morning as I was walking the littlies to school I saw Sue drive past, she waved and I though "oh no, now she's seen (some of) the children she's bound to ask".
(And I prepared another answer in my head just in case.)
Today's lesson was pretty good, and Sue did ask about the children,but not so directly that Florence came up. She also asked me where I needed to drive to in my daily life, and I avoided telling her the cemetery, we even drove past the cemetery and I didn't cry, but then we went past a pub that had a psychic night event on, and she started talking about how great psychics were, and about heaven, and dead relatives, and well, all that stuff.
I was ok, and she's such a nice lady, I couldn't possibly say anything about Florence, it wasn't the right time. She might be embarrassed or cry, or I might cry, and oh heck!
I feel like I'm lying, or worse still denying Florence.
I was relieved the subject hadn't come up, but now, I like this lady and I feel I'm deceiving her, but at the same time it's not intentional, and well, we have a professional relationship, she doesn't need to know everything about me, and oh bugger these silly little social situations are so hard to navigate with a dead baby in tow.
Thank goodness for the lovely lady from school who came to my rescue yesterday and came to my house to cut my hair. I certainly couldn't cope with hairdresser etiquette right now.

Winter celebrations from Halloween through till Christmas just make me anxious. I'm not certain why. I want to celebrate them *my* way,but then I'm uncertain how that should be. I'm not a Pagan, or a Christian, so maybe I shouldn't be celebrating at all.
I've tried over the past few years to celebrate the winter festivals as just that,but somehow it still doesn't feel right.
Guy Fawkes is coming up this week.Now that should be a simple festival to enjoy,but I can't help thinking that despite Guy Fawkes being a terrorist, did he really deserve to be put to death? And in such a grotesque way? and should we be celebrating that?
Maybe it's being a grumpy old English woman,or maybe it's just my usual way of over thinking everything.
Actually I wonder if it isn't just embarrassment.
I've realised lately just how embarrassed I am by my grief. I already knew I felt shame and embarrassment for not being able to bring Florence into the world whole and healthy,but I've only just realised how embarrassed I am by my own grief.
Most days I try to hide it behind make up and busyness, but that's survival, that's the only way to get through each day.
Here though, on my blog, you'd think I could shed that embarrassment. After all this is *my* blog, I can write anything I want to. My grief is mine alone,(Just as Woody's is his alone.) no one else feels the way I do. No one can tell me I'm wrong, or that I should be anything. So why am I so cautious?
The truth is,this blog barely scratches the surface of the pain and sorrow in my soul. Jess described it perfectly in a recent post on her blog
Sometimes I want to bare my pain and scare the crap out of everyone, to give them the tiniest glimpse of the horror of losing a child,but that would be embarrassing wouldn't it, so I put on my make up, and paste on a smile and I edit my thoughts for my blog to protect the friends and family I love.
I am ok,I'm not falling apart,I'm coping, and I'll keep on coping, but this story doesn't have a happy ending, I'm not going to reach the end of a grief journey and be all better. I'm going to have a hole in my heart forever, I'll pull in the edges and try to fix it,but the stitches wont quite ever be strong enough.
Some days I might just spill some of the contents into cyber space, and other days the stitches will hold up a little better, and well dear readers, I'm sorry, and I'll be blushing, but that's just the way it's gonna be.

We are home. Cornwall was beautiful as always. We (Woody and I) were a little homesick, but that's normal for us. We both thought about how different our little holiday would have been had Florence been there.
The silly little things got to me, like shopping in Padstow and not being able to go into some cute little shops,I knew I would've enjoyed had Florence been with us.
We collected shellls and little pebbles from the beach, some I have next to my bed, and the larger ones we took to Florence's grave today.
Woody also bought me this Willow Tree figure in Tintagel. Maybe I'm getting sentimental in my old age,but I love this figure.



Oh yes, and I still don't believe in signs,but today at Florence's grave there was a ladybird crawling on her pink roses.

I've read a lot of blogs,forums,books and articles on baby loss since Florence died. A lot of the parents write about signs from their children, or feeling them near, or even catching sight of them from the corner of their eye. As I read of these things, I felt envious that I couldn't see or feel these things.
Although that's not strictly true, I can almost feel Florence sleeping on my shoulder, as I've said before. I do feel like I carry her "spirit" (for want of a better word) with me always,but how can I not? I grew her deep inside me for so long.we shared dreams,emotions,nutrition,blood...
I don't believe in angels, I don't believe Florence is in heaven with Jesus. I guess what I do believe (again, maybe not quite the right word) is that her body is nourishing the soil around her, the earth is enveloping her and absorbing her back to nature. Meanwhile the essence of her is in mine and Woody's and the children's hearts.
One day last week after a sleepless, tearful night,I stood in the shower and the sun was just coming up. the light from the breaking dawn flooded my bathroom, and my heart. I even felt myself smiling.
Later that day Angus was thrilled to find a ladybird hitching a ride on his shoe.
The next day walking home from school, through the trees on the playing fields I spotted a beautiful rainbow. It hadn't been raining.(When I told Woody later he said it must have been a proper magic one with a pot of gold...sarcastic bugger!)
Then I found another ladybird on my bathroom window.
Yesterday while visiting Florence's grave, the wind blew and a million fluttering golden leaves rained down like confetti, glistening in the autumn sun, it was breathtaking.
And another ladybird had this time hitched a ride on Sid's trouser leg.
Writing this down seems kinda ridiculous,my rational brain doesn't believe in signs.
I know that Ladybirds have recently hatched and are looking for places to overwinter, our bathroom faces east and so the dawn light fills it every morning, it must have rained somewhere for there to be a rainbow, and leaves fall every Autumn.
I don't believe these things are a sign from my baby,but I do take comfort in nature, and knowing that in a very tiny way,she is nourishing the Earth.



A rainbow from July.

On my list of things to do today I wrote "make something pretty". I thought it might stop me crying.
So, here are all the pretty things I've made today.
Firstly this beret for India, made from a felted sweater,with a little purple flower hair clip to keep it in place.
I also made some wrist warmers from the same fabric.

Then I remembered that my friend Vanessa had crocheted these lovely ear warmers for my girls last year, and I still hadn't sewn them together, can't believe it took me until now!


(Believe it or not, Eden has been off school with a sick bug for the past two days, she looks pretty healthy in these pics!)
Finally I made myself a cotton petticoat. This was on my sewing list last winter,but once I was pregnant I didn't need one. I plan to wear this under my winter skirts for warmth, and a bit of shushy girly ness!

I used my usual A line skirt pattern,with a ruffle, some lace and a simple elastic waistline. (trusty old fold over elastic).

So, there ya go, it's not all tears all of the time.

That's when this photo was taken. I was very probably *just* pregnant, but had absolutely no idea at all, and didn't until I was almost seven weeks pregnant.
A baby's heart is apparently fully formed by eight weeks gestation, so was Florence's fate already sealed when this picture was taken? Or maybe in the weeks that followed?
Florence would be three months old today, I guess it's time to stop counting in weeks. (thirteen and one day)
The early hours of this morning found me in our bathroom, door shut, trying to keep my crying from waking up Woody. He worked late last night, came home, baked bread and had to be out early this morning,he needed his sleep.
Next week we are going to Cornwall. It's half term hols, and I think walks on the beautiful Cornish coastline will be good for all of us.
I admit I'm anxious at the thought of being so far away from Florence's grave.
I do feel like I carry her with me always, I can almost feel her sleeping on my left shoulder, cheek tucked into my neck, head heavy, a golden light all around.
Going to her grave though, I feel calm, and like to take care of her space,it's all I can do for her. I can't bathe her, or dress her, or wear her, or feed her, but I can bring her roses, light her candle and make her grave pretty.
Aunty Hev will be popping in on her while we are gone, and we'll bring shells back from the beach. I wish it could be different.

That's what life is now, a test of my endurance. I'm actually scared writing that in case there is more to come.
When I was 17, exactly one month before my 18th birthday, I went to school in the morning, and when I came home in the afternoon my Dad was dead. He died very suddenly at the age of 43 from a brain hemorrhage. I adored him.
Over the next few years a whole lot of shit happened,and I really thought that was how it was being a grown up.
Then I met Woody, we had a family, and I thought life was good. Just days before Florence was born,I thought how lucky we were.
Now, I'm walking in a dream.I'm loving my living children, and my husband. I'm scared for them and for myself, and I'm desperate to hold Florence in my arms.
Did it all really happen? Has the past year just been a dream?
I grew and birthed a beautiful daughter and she's gone. I can't even believe I'll ever see her again. My only hope is that when I die, as the last electrical impulses are surging through my brain,I'll think she's there in my arms.
I'm so sorry Florence, forever is forever.

Oh how I hate the flashbacks. Most common at night, either in that twilight time before sleep takes hold, or in the early hours of the morning when sleep has abandoned me. Sometimes even during the day, on the train,walking along the street,in the playground,while folding laundry....
Usually she's lying on that table, doctors all around. She's trying to push the tubes out of her throat with her tongue, and trying to open her eyes, then she's given more morphine.
I said before that she never opened her eyes, but she did try. I think I saw a glint of pale blue.Then the morphine shut them tight.
I wonder if she could see? There were cartoon characters on the ceiling,but her newborn vision would have only been programmed to see from Mothers breast to Mother's face.She never saw my face.
I hope she knew I was there, holding her hand,stroking her cheek.

I ran up these trousers today for Sid, they are upcycled from a wool dressing gown I bought in a charity shop for a whole £1.

I made use of the pockets by cutting out each back panel to include them, and I added a cute lamington lane label just to finish them off.


These should keep him cosy when we go to Cornwall in a weeks time. They have lots of growing room too, so will see him through a couple of winters.
I used the same pattern as for these trousers,but with a few adjustments.
I'll post modelled pics when he wears them, the light is already too poor here for good pics.

Last night as Sid was snuggling down for the night (he still co sleeps with us.)and we were discussing his day he said;

" All of the children in our family go to school, except Florence,because Florence is dead, and you are sad all of the time. We need another baby, maybe it will be a boy,or a girl."

If only it were that simple sweetheart.

For Florence, and for all the babies all over the world, past and present.

October 15th is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day across the world. We would like to invite you to take part in the global 'Wave of Light'. Simply light a candle at 7pm and leave it burning for at least 1 hour to join us in remembering all babies that have died during pregnancy, at, during or after birth.
This can be done individually or in a group, at home or in a communal space. Wherever you do this, you will be joining a global wave of light in memory of all the babies who lit up our lives for such a short time.

For more details please see here

A short while after I wrote yesterday's post, Sid came up to our bedroom with a present for me, a jar full of fairies from the garden! He said I couldn't see them because they were invisible. I suggested the fairies might be happier in the garden, but Sid insisted on releasing them in our bedroom.
So there you go, I now have a bedroom full of fairies, just when I needed them.

I'm a planner, I like to make lists, to organise and have something (many things) in the pipeline.
These notebooks are just the ones on my desk, I have several others dotted around the house, and of course one (actually two) in my handbag for making notes on the go.
Thing is, since Florence died I just can't organise my thoughts at all. My mind skips here, there and everywhere. My thoughts are always of her, even when I'm thinking of something else.
Some of these notebooks on my desk are full of lists of "things for baby", "things for birthing kit", and sketches of baby clothes I planned to make.
Sometimes I think I know where to go from here, I start to make plans, I reach for my trusty notebooks, and nothing happens.
Where do I go from here?
Everything seems so untidy (especially my mind). I want to organise, to make lists, to make decisions, but I'm dazed and don't know where to even begin.
I remind myself it's early days, and even though I feel ok today, I thought I was ok a week ago, and now I know I wasn't.
I don't know myself anymore, I don't trust my own judgement. The old me is gone forever.
The new me buys candles to burn in remembrance of her dead daughter, and writes boring posts on her blog about nothing much at all.
I apologise to all my readers who used to read this blog for the fluffy fun sewing stuff.
This wasn't how I planned it.
I should be posting cute little baby toes, and fingers and gorgeous little outfits in all the fabrics I saved "just incase we have a girl".
Now I vaguely plan for those fabrics to be used in products to sell, but who wants to buy baby clothes from a dead baby mama?
Even on a good day (and today is a good day) life is shit!

Today was our local hospital's annual baby memorial service. We didn't know what to expect, and not being believers we were a little wary of a service held in our local church.(some people reading who know me, may now be wondering why my children go to the church school, but that's a question for another day!)
Honestly, I wanted to go just to see some other real living parents of dead babies,just to reassure myself that we don't all have two heads.
I also got to see my lovely midwife.
That's Florence's balloon floating off.

We decided to go to the vintage fair, just got back, and didn't encounter any nasties on the train journey. Lots of police about though, and a helicopter circling the city centre.
The fair itself was pretty dissapointing. Firstly it was dark in there, how can you buy clothing and jewellery in the dark? ( Do I sound ancient? I did kinda feel it.)Then, most of the stalls comprised of severely overpriced charity shop rejects, plus a few dodgy stalls of handmade stuff..Mary and I did a lot of eyebrow raising and knowing looks to one another when inspecting a few hand sewn items...I know we are horrible!
Oh yea, and the one place I didn't expect to be faced with a teeny newborn baby was the student union, but there he was. Gorgeous little thing,but not something I needed to see.
Despite all that though, it was lovely to spend time with a good friend. We had a cuppa and a chat in the eighth day, and I've even forgiven the young man behind the counter for being more interested in flirting with the young girls in front of me in the queue rather than serving me, and for giving me cows milk instead of soya milk, because in his words he made "an informed judgement"...hmmmm.
Oh and I didn't cry on the train.

Well, they are moominesque! This cotton was bought from Ikea quite some time ago, and this week I finally got around to making it up into pyjamas for my big girls.
They are off to a "pyjama disco" this afternoon.






Honestly, I'm not at all happy with the finish on these. I was constantly distracted while making them, and I made some stupid mistakes.
The girls love them though, and I guess that's all that really matters, even if I am going to feel cross at myself every time I look at them.
( the pj's not the girls! )





I'm meant to be going to a vintage clothing and textile fair this afternoon, but after finding out there are a couple of distasteful demo's happening in town later, I'm not certain what to do.
I need the inspiration, and was looking forward to the good company, maybe we'll be brave and still go.

Must keep busy, must just keep busy.
There is laundry to do, even ironing,lunches to make, dinner to prepare, children to take to school, and to collect and bring home again.
Today I should have been somewhere else, but it was just too soon, so now I'm home alone. That's ok though, I need to be alone sometimes.I've got so much to do, and I've promised the girls new pyjamas, and India a new coat, and Sid new warm trousers.
I ran out of tracing fabric, stopped to eat some soup.
The mistake was stopping.
I can use baking parchment to trace the patterns, no time to sit here crying, got to keep busy.

Weekends are safe,cosy,my sanctuary. I look forward to being with Woody and the children. We don't have to do anything special,our routine of Saturday night pizza is enough.
Even days like today when we lost track of time,and missed Angus' swimming lesson,and the children have been in a bickering mood,are still good days.
This morning two parcels I've been waiting on arrived, the locket pictured above intended to carry Florence's snip of hair, and a book. "An Exact Replica Of a Figment Of My Imagination" by Elizabeth McCracken.
I can't remember the last time I read a book in one day.
I'm not certain what I want to say about it,except I understood it. I almost wanted to highlight every paragraph that described exactly some of the feelings and thoughts I've had since Florence was born.
Part of me wants to give a copy to everyone I love to help them understand more,but maybe they still wouldn't. Maybe you can't unless you've been there.
I would definately recommend it to babylost parents though.
Right, now to get on with all the hoovering I should have been doing instead of reading.

(sorry the pic is not great, self taken in crappy light.)

How can I be so blessed in so many ways, unyet not have my precious baby Florence here with me?
Today, a parcel came. I wasn't expecting anything and was confused by the return address, recognising the name as one of my friends from an online sewing group,I've been a part of for a looong time now.
We've supported each other through many ups and downs of life over the past eight or so years. Some of us have met, and some of us haven't.
Inside the box was a card with the message "A warm woolly hug from all of sns chatter", and the most beautiful blanket I've ever seen.
I'm guessing my beautiful friends made a square or two each and then someone was nominated to sew them all together.
I sat and cried and admired each square trying to guess who made each one.
I'm so lucky to be part of such a lovely group. Thank you guys, I love you all.