{ This is my diary. These are my words to our precious little rose petal. This is my attempt to heal through words, because I’m not ready for the real world just yet… }

Today is day eleven. Eleven long, lonely and sad days without my baby. Every day is hard, but today has been ‘one of those really fkn hard days’. When I wake-up each morning there is still a split second where I feel ‘normal’. Then it hits me like a tone of bricks. I am not pregnant, she is not kicking away like she always did at 7am sharp… She is gone and I am empty. While there are moments I am slightly distracted from this heaviness, it never leaves you. This morning I opened my Instagram to pretend for one minute to care about what the rest of the world is up to. The first photo I saw was one of my best friends posing with her baby bump… I can’t tell you how much that hurts. I have about four good friends all pregnant and due within about four weeks of our Charlotte Rose. At the moment it’s impossible for me to even look at them. I dread receiving baby shower invites… I dread seeing their Facebook updates in the months to come – probably whinging about back pain, no sleep, needing to pee five million times a day… It terrifies me. It makes me jealous, but most of all it just makes me sad. The old me is happy for them, but this me, the new and broken me, just can’t be a part of it right now.

As I got up and walked down the stairs to my happy little toddler the tears were already pouring down my face. These times of happiness and growth for her are still so bittersweet. For 21 weeks I wondered how the hell I would ever manage life and work with two kids… The mess, the chaos, the ‘sucky-shitty #mumlife days’… Now that’s all I want more than anything. Part of me is so, so desperate for another baby and to grow our family, but I’m still stuck in the stage of ‘but I want it to be Charlotte Rose, no one else’. Then the anger sets in… The confusion… The rage… The screaming why, why, why, why… Nothing will bring her back or make this better. We will never know what her favourite colour would have been, we will never hear our girls argue over who poked who, we will never see her play in the beautiful nursery we created for her, we will never cry tears of joy on her first day of school, I will never see her daddy walk her down the aisle… I hate this. I hate what life has thrown at us. I just want her back.

As I sat on the couch this morning with my little monkey while she watched her favourite Peppa Pig, I silently cried. I hate her seeing me cry but sometimes you can’t stop it. I read some more beautiful messages from other mummies and women who have and are experiencing loss and grief, and these did ease the tears. I decided to pull myself together and get dressed. I put on some make-up, got MG dressed and said let’s go shopping. Leaving the house and facing the real world is still so hard. I find myself getting anxious and nervous and not even wanting to make eye contact with anyone… I kept it simple and just went to DJs to buy some photo frames for our photos of Charlotte Rose. I found an adorable Wedgwood frame with the little teddy and knew this was the one. As I walked to the counter and tried so hard to ‘act normal’, the lady serving me was making friendly chit-chat. She asked if it was a gift for someone and I lost it… I could barely speak through my tears as she asked if I was ok… I finally managed to get it out, who it was really for… She then told me she also lost her daughter. She lost her daughter 50 years ago and she said the pain has never left her. While the thought of hanging onto this pain for another day is too much, let alone 50 years, I again took comfort in knowing others understood and felt THIS pain. As I composed myself and cleaned-up my face with my sleeve, I just wanted to get out of there. As we went to walk out, I stopped and needed to find something that reminded me of Charlotte Rose. We got out of the lift and walked straight to the beauty/perfume department. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was looking for, but I knew I wanted something with a rose fragrance. No word of a lie, the very first perfume I saw (and had never seen of or heard of before) was called Rose Goldea by BVLGARI. I couldn’t believe it… I am now wearing it.

I am not religious, but had always believed there was something greater than us – a reason for everything. After what we’ve been through the last two weeks though, I am now questioning this… However, much like my chance meeting of Harry’s mummy through Bears of Hope, I am slowly/trying to believe in signs. Signs she is sending me and telling me that she is here with me, within my soul and my heart.

I love you more today than I did yesterday my little rose petal.

Mummy x

SISJ DISCLAIMER/FYI: For me writing has been the very best thing during this experience, in a way it’s now my addiction… My drug… My way of coping. I don’t want my blog to be a place of sadness, but for now I need to be totally selfish and do what I need to do. I write and listen to the same three songs, over and over. My rose candle burns in-front of me and her blanket is close. It’s where I come to escape. I can smell her and I know somehow, somewhere she is here with me. I hope for me you see less and less of these diary entries as time goes by, and if they are too confronting to read, I also understand you need to move on. My love to all of you who have any emptiness in their day today…

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