It's been a couple of tough days for the Boy and I. It was a year ago yesterday that we had to go into St Thomas's Hospital so I could deliver our tiny little 13 week old baby who had sadly died. It was quite an ordeal for us both - as I've mentioned here before - and while we try to move on and not look back, the subconscious has a funny way of reminding you when dates and anniversaries are on the horizon.
The Boy and I have looked after each other well and a year on we are so much stronger than we have ever been. The passage of time does ease the pain, as much as it doesn't feel like it will in the early days, and while I don't think you ever forget a loss, you do learn to forgive it. By that I mean, at the time it happened I was very angry with the world - why us, why should we suffer so? It felt unfair and unreasonable. But as the months pass the anger and resistence fades into an acceptance and a sadness at what has passed. The raw pain of the grief becomes a dull ache, and you learn to live with what has been and gone.
I think there will always be a sadness that the first life I saw begin inside me and the first heartbeat I heard that wasn't my own was lost, never to be known. But I am hopeful that we've learnt from the experience and grown into more rounded people with a strengthened relationship - it's easy to be in love when the sun is shining and life is sweet. It's far harder when you're worst fears are realised and I am incredibly thankful that the Boy and I moved towards each other in our dark times, rather than away from each other.
As time passes I hope the memories become more and more manageable. It is easier than it was, but we are not quite there yet - and we will never forget.