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I've had it in my mind for some time now that I wanted to write a very specific post today. Something profound that would touch you, maybe even move you to donate some of your hard earned money to a charity that really deserves a lot more publicity than it gets (Sands), or help other stillbirth survivors finding this post through the magic of google. Somehow, the fire and passion to do that just isn't there. It seems to have relinquished its power and turned to barely glowing embers.
At this point seven years ago I was sitting in a stuffy and overcrowded antenatal clinic, waiting for an ultrasound scan to see if my baby was breech. The Mr reading his Stephen King book and I daydreaming (probably about getting to bathe little toes in a week or so with the baby being due in a few days). I had no idea that my life was about to change in a completely incomprehensible way forever.
All these years later, the birds have begun to sing again. I think they stopped as I watched a Robin gather food in the hospital garden while we were waiting. Life left me in lots of ways that day, but somehow, it seems it's finally spring.
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