With my first pregnancy came so much excitement and joy, yet his birth brought so much heartache and despair.
12 hours I got to spend with my boy, holding him, kissing him, talking and singing to him, when really all I wanted was forever.
All those firsts we would never get together, all those milestones I would never see him reach. His ashes sit next to my bed, adorned with teddies that will never be cuddles and the memories we made together during those short 12 hours.
I didn’t know how I was supposed to go on without him and even now some days are still hard. I see him in rainbows, in the robins that visit our garden and when I look up to the stars at night.
Daily he is in my thoughts. But in Wren’s short life and death he has given me something to cherish, not only his memory but his little brother, Ronin.
There will always be a thousand “what ifs” but one thing I can say without certainty is that I wouldn’t have two beautiful boys if it wasn’t for my first. Wren will always be my baby, the one who made me a mum and Ronin will always be an extension of his big brother.