Each year as this day approaches a wrenching feeling of dread creeps over me. This day six years ago I lost my first baby at 18 weeks pregnant. This baby lives forever in my heart and there's not a day that passes that I don't wonder where their little spirit has flown too. I like to think it is near to me and looking over it's little family. Every year on the 6th July we go to Mortlake Crematorium, where they were laid to rest, to remember their too short a life. A life stolen from its parents and sister. The only way I could deal with the excruciating loss of this unborn child was to imagine that theirs was a spirit that needed releasing and that I had been chosen to aide this process. I can still clearly feel it's presence within me despite never having held him/her in my arms. My darling Anastasia Aloysius you will always be a part of our lives, you will never be forgotten.