North Cornwall has to be one of my favourite places to retreat to in the UK.  After Teddy died it was the first place we fled to in an effort to rest and recuperate.  I think we lasted about ten days at home after returning from hospital before we packed our bags and headed South West.  We were well and truly fed up of feeling trapped in the house and just staring at each other’s tired/ crying faces.  So we thought we would have a change of scenery, escape from the reality for a few days, and just stare at the sea (Couldn’t escape the tired/ crying faces though, I’m afraid!).

Yes.  In a word.  Yes, we have chosen to keep Teddy’s intended room as a nursery.  That may be a little odd to some people (To those people I say; come back to me when your baby has died and we can have a chat?); but it is what we have chosen to do for now.  Perhaps it is what we have chosen to do indefinitely, I am really not sure?

Nine months of pregnancy; nine months of excitement.  For me those nine months were a time when I was utterly bursting with anticipation to meet our little bundle, and blissfully unaware of the path that our lives were about to take.  So as we approach this coming week, and the 16th February, I am reflecting on nine months since the day that Teddy was born; nine months of loss.

Other than my wonderful husband; there is one other true love in my life.  He is about thirty centimetres tall, likes wild days out and cosy nights in, and never fails to make me smile; no matter how sad things are.  I am, of course, talking about Boris.(He’s a pug by the way; just in case you hadn’t got the gist of this one from the title?)