Cremation day

Dear Little Poppy,

Today is your cremation day.

It is a beautiful, clear, sunny day.

Your sister and I have spent the morning at gymnastics and swimming, and I've tried at once not to forget you and not to remember you too often.

I cry a lot.

We have chosen not to attend your cremation because your father and I both believe that once you're gone, you're gone. Because you were just a little baby, only eight months old, you did not have any friends to mourn you; so there is no funeral.

We will pick up your ashes and treasure them always as a reminder of you. I have chosen a beautiful urn to put them in. Soon we will have a party to celebrate your short life.

Poppy at 6 days old, 1 January 2017

You were my perfect miracle, Poppy. My sixth pregnancy, second child, and first natural conception to make it into this world.

We were all so excited to have you in our family.

Poppy and Elsie at home, 26 January 2017

Your father and I felt so smug to have managed to give Elsie a little sister barely two years her junior. We felt sure you would be great friends to each other.

Poppy and Elsie having a cuddle, 19 May 2017

I'm sure you would have been.

But you were born with a cruel time bomb ticking in your DNA; and now we are all in a weird, unenviable place where our perfect family of four is only three.