I am the mother of a little girl, and a little boy, both of whom were taken before they took a breath on earth. I have a Beagle called Arthur who tries his best to substitute, and a husband who must love me more than I can describe, (other than by saying that he cleans without me asking him to, and never, ever says anything mean to me).
My baby girl arrived at almost 19 weeks, and of course, did not survive. A year later, my baby boy – Freddie – arrived at almost 25 weeks. One week after the fluid that babies need so vitally, had left him, Freddie passed away, and was born not long afterwards. My love for them both will never wither. My very being is fractured by the loss of my babies. It is difficult to write and will be difficult for many of you to read. This is my narrative.