Six years seems like a long time and like only yesterday all at once. When I woke up this morning Tilly was not the first thing that came into my mind, nor the fact that today is her sixth birthday. I feel guilty. I feel guilty that even though she is not here I have rebuilt my life, my plan b, and I can still be happy without her. I know that that’s okay though, and I know that that is the best tribute to her. There is no ‘shrine’ in our house, I do not visit the grave often, I do not cry often but it’s there in the normal everyday. When I care for women, I think about how I would have liked my care to be, the communication and the compassion. I appreciate the life we have, even if it’s not the one we had planned.

5 months ago I started a new job, and I have started to tell people I work with about Tilly, the dreaded ‘have you only got the one..?’ question. These are my collegues and friends and working with women and their babies is perhaps where I am most vulnerable, it’s important that they know so that if I am caught off guard, I don’t have to explain myself all over again. Yesterday I was asked ‘how did you get through?’  and I didn’t really know how to answer, but today I think I would say ‘because of people like you, people that aren’t afraid to ask me what happened, people that aren’t afraid to say her name’. Please say her name, because all I need to do is to remember.