This is Me. Five years forward - happy and sad, side by side.

The week of your death and birth remain as painful as ever. It's been surprising to me that time doesn't seem to make any difference at this time of year. 

This year I realised that juggling my own emotions about you whilst caring for your sister's has become an additional challenge. I want to try to be strong for them. But sometimes I need time. 

I bumped into a couple of friends in Tesco whilst buying balloons and cake decorations for your birthday, something that always feels both the right thing to do, ridiculous and sad, all at the same time. 

They only had to ask 'how are you' and I was sobbing. I just wanted to hide under a duvet away from everyone. 

Getting your memory box out and touching your tuft of hair and looking at your tiny hand and footprints. It all had me wailing that I wanted to be with you again. Thank goodness daddy was there to hold me. 

But more generally - I look at Liora and smile. She's hilarious and stubborn, kind and full of life. And I hold Orli tight. I am so very grateful. 

She has brown hair like you Yaeli, you know. She has hazel eyes. I wonder what colour yours were?

I wonder who would you have become if you had been saved like you should have. (And whilst the Trust have admitted responsibility, I can't believe we are only now getting to the final stages for a resolution. We won't stop fighting until it's settled).

You would be turning five years old now and would already have been in school for more than a term. With long brown hair and a bright smile for sure. I wish I knew who you would have become.  

After I lost you, there was so much more pain before we completed our family. I say completed, but you're not here. So it will never be complete. But you know what I mean!

But Yaeli, I'm happy. 

I never knew how much I wanted to be a mummy until I lost you. 

I love hearing Liora say my name - mumma. It never gets old. We have so much fun.

There's so much love in our house. 

I just wish you could share it.

But as well as the happiness, there's a deep sadness in me. It's always there. It's especially present on special occasions and as we approach your death day and your birthday.

I've learnt to accept it, but when it rears it's head and becomes particularly vocal, it's hard to ride it out.  

It really hurts. A physical ache in my heart, where I wear a tattoo of you. 

But now that life has moved forward (not on), the grief has become surrounded by the great joy in my life.

Just like my counsellor once said to me, grief doesn't shrink. The space around it gets filled with other things. 

For me that's currently looking after Orli and Liora, managing the house and other day to day worries that gain space in your mind. 

I think that's such a brilliant way to conceptualise grief over time. 

Happy birthday in the sky my baby girl. 

I love you forever and always. 

your mummy xxx