I've been so moved by the posts I've read here over recent days. My little boy Bo would have been nine weeks old today, along with his surviving twin Elijah.
I was making a vague attempt earlier to sort out a pile of clothes which seem to have taken root in our bedroom. I found a pair of very stretched maternity trousers that I practically lived in at the end of my pregnancy. I remember being aware of the fact that the twin I could feel kicking was Bo. Elijah was underneath his brother and buried down into my pelvis. I remember feeling Bo's little feet kicking and me holding and rubbing them. It hit me this afternoon that he was alive then and could feel me touching him and that I never got to do that after he was born. It doesn't get easier. Time moves you away from the awfulness of what's happened but sometimes, and with an alarming force, you can be thrown back and it feels as raw as it did when it first happened.