Our beautiful baby daughter Anabelle was born sleeping June 2010.
Blessed with the screaming arrivals of our gorgeous rainbow sons,
Alexander October 2011, Zachary November 2013 and Lucas July 2016.


Diary of an Angel Mother, Rainbow Mother.
Heartbreak. Joy. Death. Life. But most of all Love.

Monday, 21 November 2016

Not Just A Cat


Last week our darling Fiz (click to open) died. 

It was so unexpected, such a shock. We had no reason to think she was poorly; only two weeks ago she had had her annual health check and booster jabs at the vet - all was fine, she was fine. 

Tuesday evening she curled up on my left leg while I had the baby on my right. I took a 'selfie' of her with no idea it would be her last photograph. After everyone was in bed, including me, Jon had a big play-fight with her and was left with the battle-scars to prove it. Something that hadn't happened for a long time in the post new-baby days. Her last play. 

Although Jon didn't find her until Wednesday early evening, we think she must have died sometime during the early hours, the nighttime, of Wednesday morning. After her last cuddle, last photograph, last play. 

That night Jon had slept downstairs because Lucas was under the weather and very likely to end up sleeping in bed with me. I wonder at what point she stopped sleeping on his legs in the night and went into her hammock.  At least she wasn't quite alone at the end, even if we didn't know it. I hope she didn't know it - she looked like she had so peacefully passed in her sleep. 

I still feel terrible that we didn't notice Wednesday morning, her there sleeping in her hammock under her scratch post. Her scratch post, under the stairs partially behind the armchair; in sight but out of sight, her quiet spot. 

Wednesday mornings are manic; sorting out Xander to go off with my Mum to school complete with his homework bag, school bag, swim bag. Sorting Zac to go off to nursery with all the spares he could possibly need incase he has a bad potty day. Feeding and dressing a little Luc and chucking food and water down for Fiz. Its a stress getting out of the door early enough to get Zac to a nursery breakfast. We whizz around. In all the commotion I couldn't remember seeing Fiz that morning, but that is no different from any Wednesday morning in my rush. Jon said he saw her on her hammock in the morning, but just assumed she was still snoozing. Why would he have any reason to think differently? Lie-ins weren't out of the ordinary for Fiz! 

When she was tiny!
I was out for most of Wednesday, only popping back for an hour between 10.30-11.30 before meeting Jon for lunch. I didn't notice her in her hammock - and even if I had I would've assumed she was just asleep. I had no reason to look for her - she didn't even cross my mind - it wasn't unusual for her to be hidden away snoozing somewhere through the day. Nothing was out of the ordinary, or so we thought. 

But while I was still at Xander's swimming lesson with the three boys and Mum in tow, Jon returned from work and realised Fiz hadn't moved from her curled up comfortable spot in the hammock. She'd gone. I came home to find Jon incredibly upset - and I just knew he was going to tell me someone had died, but didn't for a minute expect him to say Fiz. I feel so sorry that she led there all day unnoticed - even though I know it would've been traumatic for the children had the discovery been any other way. At least Jon finding her in an otherwise empty house meant we could shelter them. 


Her 9th and last birthday.
Only nine and half years old, young for a house-cat, it did not occur to us to consider she may die yet. I honestly expected for her to be with us for at least another six plus years.We phoned the vets and took her there to arrange her cremation. Cried many tears and said our goodbyes. 

Once upon a time I wouldn't have understood why someone was so upset about their animal. I'd never had a pet before Fiz. Of course this hurt doesn't remotely compare to the grief we already carry with us every day, it is but a drop in the ocean; we've been through worse and we'll be ok when our low subsides.  But none-the-less, we're feeling so very sad and cut-up about her loss. These have been teary days. Fiz was one of us, our fur-baby. She deserves our goodbyes. She had been such a comfort to us so often and it didn't feel like it was her time to go. So please indulge me as we adjust to Fiz no longer being with us. 

It is only now in her absence I realise just how much space she actually took up in our hearts and home. She was everywhere. 

The scratch post behind the armchair, where she died. The food bowls with left-overs still in. The food box still in the cupboard under the sink. The cat hair on the curtains, on the carpet, all over the rainbow rug, cat hair we were blind to before. The scratches all over the drawers in our wardrobe where she once got stuck. The wrecked arms and bottoms of the chairs where she had clawed. The frayed carpet on the bottom step. The claw marks on the carpets. 

The space she took up on the bed resting against our legs. The silence of her bell, not realising how that sound filled the day before. The silence of her miaow begging for a tap to be turned on in the bath or her bowls to be filled. The thud from upstairs when she jumped off the bed. The space on the bay window sill where she slept, sunbathed, or ran to greet us when she heard the car on the drive. The silence of her nightly ritual of carrying her favourite 'mousey' around and miaowing after everyone else had gone to bed. Mousey that she had had since a kitten. 

Her no longer trying to invade soft places, padding on legs, our dressing gowns, the baby blankets. No longer arguing with her about coming out from under the boys beds at their bedtime. No longer finding her curled up on the boys chair in the playroom or sunbathing on the rainbow rug. No longer finding her snoozing on the bed. No longer having to shout 'Watch the cat' whenever the front door is open or strategically closing it behind us.  No longer having to worry about how to rearrange the bathroom to fit her litter tray in as Lucas now needed the box bedroom. No longer having to worry about arranging kitty-care when we go away - only hours before we found her I had text my Mum to ask her to feed Fiz the weekend when we go to my Godson's christening. No naughty cat chewing on the Christmas tree and knocking baubles off this year. 

Her first photo - 20th June 2007
Remembering when we went to get her from a farm. 20th June 2007.  Our home became her home. Me, initially unbothered either way if we had a cat/pet or not but so quickly falling in love with that tiny tiny little kitten. Her mother had died so she was hand-reared from birth and had only ever known human contact. Remembering how she loved to be rocked and held just as if she was a human newborn baby. Remembering even now how she liked to be held the very same way. Remembering how we named her - The Tweenies. Remembering when she could fit in the palm of Jon's hand. Remembering her kitten collar was still in with my jewellery and comparing it to the collar we took off her as we left her at the vets to keep.

Remembering that we used to give her a bath and that she even enjoyed playing in the water when she was little, chasing bath toys. Remembering why she was a housecat - although interested in the outdoors, in those kitten days she never ventured far from home  - just up the path and back - and would be outside the front door crying as soon as it was shut - we decided to keep her in and out of the outdoor world harms way. 

Remembering the time we got locked out with her in our arms, the car journey to my Dad's work with her loose on my lap (as a passenger) to recover some keys to get back in. Remembering the day of her great escape on to my parents roof when we lived there. Remembering she was a cat that had her birthday celebrated with presents, Christmas too. 

The Great Escape

Realising the bizzare conicidence that she also died on the 16th, to go off for cremation on the 21st and her ashes returned to us on the 28th; numbers that were already so ingrained in us with Belle. Realising they also fall on Wednesday's and Monday's albeit a different month and a different year. Realising in the messed up world we had more time, more photos, more memories with our cat than our daughter. Realising how well she adjusted to two house-moves and children - undoubtedly less showered of attention with each boy arrival but loved by us all in buckets. Realising from the 851 photographs we had taken of her just how much Xander especially adored her.

With Xander

With Zac

With Luc

Over the next few weeks we'll arrange our final special goodbye and sprinkle her ashes with Belle in her garden. Finally having her successful great escape into the outdoors. 

Her last photo - 15th November 2016

Not just a cat. 

One of us. 

We miss you already.

Fiz 
30th April 2007 - 16th November 2016 






Wednesday, 2 November 2016

Big is FIVE!

There is nothing like a new baby to make you reflect just how grown up the biggest child in the family is. Alexander is now five. Five whole years since he was a small baby like Lucas. Time really really does move so quickly.

I find myself feeling quite emotional when I look back over his birthday slideshows; my annual memoir of the year passed. All the wonderful photos that show how he has changed, the things he’s done, the places he’s been, the things he has learnt and the memories we have made over these last five years.

Our first rainbow. He makes us so proud.

Maturing all the time, he is thoughtful and sensitive. Becoming more and more the deep thinker; beginning to ask us about lifes bigger questions, about babies, about life, about death, the world around him, how things are made. He is so ready to know and learn and interested in everything.

Xander continues to thrive at school, finishing nursery class with the most awesome end of year report and is thoroughly enjoying Reception. Starting full-time school (link) felt like an end of an era for us at home, the end of his infancy and the start of an exciting new chapter for him. Our grown up boy.  The Reception teacher is as enthusiastic and brilliant as his nursery team and Xander is so clearly engaged at school. But boy he has been tired and struggling with the full-time aspect. The whole of September was pretty horrendous at home for tired meltdowns. Quite the Jekyll and Hyde at times.  Although he has started to get used to it now and October saw definite improvement, Thursdays is his wall and we know about it after school towards the end of the week. Back to school after half term today and it was pretty clear how exhausted he was again after the week off and then back to it.  School is a full-time job and he is still so little really! 

Once upon a time a baby, now a school boy. So much growing in five short years.  Please time slow down, my Big is getting so big! 


Darling Xander. We’ve had such a wonderful time celebrating your fifth birthday. You had mentioned your fifth birthday nearly every day since your fourth; I hope it lived up to your year-long expectations! You made plans. You wanted a Transformers party and didn’t deviate from it, you wanted Nana to make you a Transformers cake. So Transformers it was.

We invited Bumblebee Bot to visit you at your party which you thoroughly enjoyed, although we discovered you were not fooled – you later told Nana that you knew it wasn’t the REAL Bumblebee and that he was a man dressed up in a costume, because you could see his hair coming out at the back. But then you are never easily fooled my boy and definitely bright and switched on.



You are so eager to learn. You talk incessantly now, always asking questions and trying to discover everything there is to know about everything. You’ve mastered the art of persuasion absolutely and have an answer or ‘solution’ for everything to try and make things go your way!


Tonight we’ve had parents evening at school and inquisitiveness is paying off; you’re happy, well-adjusted, settled, well-behaved and doing so well – scoring within Outcome 3 in your Reception baseline and working towards achieving Outcome 4 at the end of this school year. I know this means very little to you, but it is fantastic for your age! Being happy and trying your very hardest in school is all we want from you but we are so pleased and proud of everything else too. Well done little man!

At five your favourite things are still Transformers Rescue Bots (of course), as well as little ‘big boy’ Lego. One of your favourite places to go is the Lego shop. You recognise when you’re in Cardiff now and always ask if we can go to the Lego shop while we’re there. You are so creative with the Lego. We’re always so impressed with what you build, just from your own design – you seem to have a natural flair!

Just a few of the things you’ve been really interested in since your last update; electricity and what things work with electricity, space and rockets and going to the moon when you’re a grown up, more recently asking us what makes a baby and who came out of whose tummy, and death. Still asking more and more complex questions about your sister and death.  



You can be so funny now, even when you don’t mean to do. Over the last few months I have been noting down some of the things you’ve said, and they definitely need recording here for you to read when you are older:
  • ·      Mummy, when the baby comes out will you go back to your normal size?
  • ·      Mummy, when you go to work you’re a teacher and look after children, but when Daddy goes to work he just disappears doesn’t he?!
  • ·      Calling Nana, Nana Villians (her surname is Villars)
  • ·      I referred to you children as ‘your children’ to Daddy – you piped up with – Mummy I am your child because I came out of your tummy.
  • ·      Talking about people who make rockets with Daddy. Daddy said you needed very smart people. You replied ‘I was very smart when I wore my graduation clothes’ – Daddy didn’t mean that kind of smart!
  • ·      You asked who planted flowers around town. Daddy said ‘council workers’ to which you said a totally random ‘Never heard of it’.
  • ·      Calling testicles – testiballs.
  • ·      I can do magic Nana and make things disappear. Watch, you say, as you take a massive bite of a banana to make it disappear.
  • ·      Telling us you need to listen to Daddy’s music to practice for when you are a Daddy (by which you mean Metallica or Queen or the like!



In your starting school blog (click to open) I said that it felt like the end of your infancy. The signs of you growing up are there. Things you used to love, even only six months ago, now appear to babyish for you. Like tots classes when I take you along with Zachy; six months ago you still got stuck right in, now, you sit on the fringe and appear self-conscious at times with the babies and toddlers, only joining in for the more grown up or interesting parts or to take a baby under your wing.

And you are grown up! Your new little brother has shown me just how Big you are. He is so small and you feel like a giant next to him! You are revelling in being the ‘biggest of all’ brother.  You are so gentle and loving with Lucas, you talk to him all the time, telling him how cute he is. Lucas loves you and gave you his very first proper smile, of course you felt super proud about it.  You love to look after your brothers – although this sometimes comes across as being the third parent! You can be quite the bossy-boots with poor Zachy now, your policing or ‘I’m the biggest’ dealing of a situation ending in screaming and tears. But on the flip side you can be so encouraging and generous towards him too, and protective – often praising him or giving in to him and giving him the toy he wants and is demanding from you. I adore that kindness in you. You boys are so often one extreme or the other with each other now, playing and shrieking together beautifully in a shared game or fighting like brothers do. But still brothers in arms, my three musketeers, the Morgan boys. I still love watching you be a big brother.

My Big.

Five years ago I introduced you to the world with this photo (click to open)
You were so small back then. My baby. Our miracle.



Five years of healing your Mama’s heart, stitching together their broken bits. Filling it with colour. The first baby we got to keep.



Darling boy, we love you. Always.


Enjoy every minute of being five!







Wednesday, 26 October 2016

Lucas @ Three Months

Little Lucas is growing fast. Too fast. The last month has literally flown by. It only feels like I wrote his two month update last week, yet here we are, three months old. The end of his fourth trimester. I guess this means he is past the stage of being my newborn. Sob! 

This month Lucas has 'woken up'. 

Honestly, Jon and I were continuing to twitch how disinterested Lucas seemed in us, how he would still look past us, instead of at us. I was starting to feel concerned about how much time he still spent asleep in comparison to what I remembered with the other boys. 

We were getting ourselves all worked up about potential problems. But my, we were being silly and premature. Once again we needed to keep reminding ourselves that his four weeks early had made a bigger difference to him than it had his brothers. 

All of sudden, 10 weeks old, he started taking a lot more notice of people, he started to 'see'.  We started getting more and more smiles that we didn't have to work so hard for. Now another couple of weeks later he is absolutely switched on. He follows people with his eyes as they walk past him, he is starting to vocalise in response to you, he seemingly gets excited at interaction, he adores his big brothers. 

He has started to intentionally reach for the hanging objects on his playmat and briefly grips and tries to lift toys if they are placed in his hand. My little baby is really read to start discovering.  He is so content and lovely, and we're all totally in-love with him. 


Beautiful baby Little. You are three months old. A whole quarter of your first year has already passed us by. You really will be one before we know it! At three months old you weigh 13lb 8oz. Exactly the same as your big brother Zachy when he was three months old.  You have suddenly properly chunked out with little rolls of thighs, and filling out in your face and tummy. No longer are you the skinny newborn.  Already I'm sorting out your 3-6 month wardrobe to phase in over the next couple of weeks. 0-3 tops and trouser sets are still lovely, but all in ones are starting to feel a little short in the leg. You keep growing! 

You still feel like my newborn but older all at the same time. 

This month your cries have changed. No longer it is just the urgent stress-inducing cry of a newborn; I'm beginning to know if your cries are for changing, for cuddling, for milk, or just because you are very tired. 

You've discovered your hands and often suck on or mouth them now. You are ready to play now. You like looking at toys, you like it when toys are put in your hands and you can have a go at lifting them up and down. Your favourite things are small rattles, your pirate friend and the sunshine bar that fits to chairs and spins. You are a little wriggler and already a couple of times we've left you on your mat, and come back to find you have moved yourself around 90 degrees! Listen up kid, I'm so not ready for movement, keep still! 



Your daily awake and asleep patterns are on the cusp of becoming a routine. There is still no concrete structure to the day hours but the beginnings are there; you consistently want to nap for a short 20-30 minutes an hour or so after getting up for the day now, after this you average another four sleeps of varying lengths before bedtime.  And a bedtime you do now have. So recently started, but so far you have taken to bedtime exceptionally well. You were ready to go upstairs in the evening, in your Moses. Another step away from being my newborn! Losing the ability to sleep anywhere, becoming over-stimulated, needing lights off and noise down to settle in the evenings.  


I dare to whisper that the night before you turned three months old you slept through the night for the first time. *You've even done another three sleep through the nights in a row so far this week*  Long may it last, but I won't be surprised if it doesn't! So far my baby, you are the best sleeper for your age of you three boys! 


You are truly wonderful Lucas Elias. My favourite thing it to kiss you and watch the beaming smile appear on your face. You love to be kissed. 

My boy, my baby. Adored. 






Monday, 24 October 2016

Because Sometimes It Isn't All An Instagram Photo

Tonight I was going to write one of the boys updates. Alexander is now five and Lucas is three months.  

But today has been hard and not the greatest start to half term. One of those days where I've felt like I'm completely failing at this 'Mother of three boys' lark incompetent and feeling completely inadequate for them. Today Big and Small have pushed my buttons - not with any one big thing, but the drip drip drip effect of wearing me down with lots of little things, not listening, fighting with each other, shrill screaming, a bad toileting day, just constant something after another things. Not helped by Zachary waking for the day at 4.30am. So even though Lucas slept through for his second time last night I didn't get a full nights sleep anyway. 

I've been shouty Mummy. I hate it when I'm shouty Mummy. It is so far removed from the gentle parent I want to be and it always ends with me feeling so guilty; knowing that they don't entirely deserve my reaction and I need to get my act together and strive to do so much better. 

They're all so little. They're just little. Most of the time I love their age gaps, but it means none of them are very independent and sometimes I feel like I've bitten off more than I can chew. 

We're still getting to grips with managing these three little people. Its taking me so much longer to adjust to the day to day of three than it did to two. Lucas is the easiest of the lot, (why did I ever think a baby was hard work?!) but still he has changed the dynamic. Especially the days that Jon is in work. Outnumbered. There just isn't enough of me. There isn't enough hours in the day. Some days it feels oh so overwhelming and I can't keep up with them. I can't keep up with the house either and it continues to fall to rack and ruin. 

Today was one of those days. 

An everything spiralling fast kind of day. Feeling stressed by child demands, behaviour and the state of the house. One of those days I hope they will never remember when they're grown. One of those days when I'm nothing like the mother I want to be.  And it feels crap. Even more so when Jon sends my Mum up because he can tell I'm having a struggling with it all day from my texts. As grateful as I am for the help. In hindsight we should've gone for a drive and sleep much earlier on in the day to reset.  

We finally got ourselves together at around 3.00pm. All calmed down and managed some painting. And today, that had to be enough.  

Tomorrow's goal is take them all out for a walk. 

Tomorrow is another day. I hope we're feeling 'back to normal'.  

Sunday, 23 October 2016

Babyloss Awareness Week

This year I've completely lost my way with the Capture Your Grief project.

I think my Unspoken (click to open) post really took it out of me. Laying some more of me bare. 

After my last post, I haven't felt able to let the words flow onto the screen.  Its felt stilted and stalled. I told myself I *should* be writing. I'd committed to giving myself and Belle this time. And then I realised there was no should about it. If I wasn't in the headspace to carry on with the project, right now at least, then so be it. It wasn't going anywhere. There wasn't a real time constraint. Maybe in this moment I didn't need the project in the same way as I did last year. 

So I gave myself the permission to break. And to carry on when I was ready. Explore each title heading when I was ready, if I was ready, if it felt right. It didn't need to be on a specific date in October, just because it was babyloss awareness month. It could be any time. Next month, the month after, or even next year. 

This year I'm taking Capturing Grief very slowly.  Maybe it won't even be complete. 

I cannot put my finger on why, but this year, the project, and babyloss awareness week has not sat right with me at all. Dare I say, even made me feel uncomfortable. Which is ridiculous. I am one of the faces of babyloss, a STILLborn daughter to my name.  But this year, I felt the need to take a step away from the outpouring of grief and social media awash with baby loss awareness week. I didn't participate in quite the way I might've last year, or previously. 

It has always felt significant before, that Alexander's birthday should coincide with the end of babyloss awareness week. Our first rainbow truly was the light that came shining through in that week back in 2011. Back then I'm not even sure I was aware it was the week, but as he explored his light up drum birthday present as his contribution of Wave of Light in 2012 it felt somehow special. Our two worlds had collided together in a beautiful sort of harmony in one week. 

This year, I didn't feel able to marry to the two. 

This year, as we built up to Alexander's 5th birthday, I felt removed from a babyloss community week. More uncomfortable.  I couldn't blog about such huge grief topics and focus on my rainbows birthday video at the same time, I couldn't find meaningful things to photograph for the project or give it my authentic attention when my focus was on the birthday presents and party for my little boy. 

I don't know why it has felt different this year to others. Why I felt weird, removed, uncomfortable. Its as important as it ever was. 

But I do know that birthdays are a big deal in this family. Our Rainbow boys especially so. The boys who lived and came home. We celebrate! Big, emotional, making memories. I'm always aware and so very conscious that our boys may one day feel like they grew up in the shadow of their sisters death, as hard as we try to make it not so. This year I just felt like I couldn't drain myself in the week of his birthday by fully participating in babyloss awareness week. Alexander deserved to be the entire centre of my attention. Rightly so. 

On Wave of Light day we were at Longleat having a special day our for our Big. In previous years I would've felt a strong sense of unjustified guilt had we not been home at 7.00pm to light our candle for Belle with everyone else. This year we were on the road home at 7.00pm and I felt no guilt. As facebook flooded with candles and I was tagged in posts, I felt no guilt at the alerts. Just that his sister would wait for her candles when we got home. Just as it wouldn't be her turn to be the centre of attention on his birthday weekend if she were alive.  

In the end, when we got home from Longleat at around 8.30pm, I lit six candles to mark the six years we've lived without her. Six years darling girl. Six years, four months, two days. 

This year Babyloss week didn't feel right for me. Its taken me another week to realise that this is OK. After all, I don't need and have never needed a special week or month to be vocal about Anabelle's place and importance in this family.  She is known by those that matter every week of the year. 

Maybe this is more evidence of an evolving grief. More evidence of a sense of healing in strange and wonderful ways.  More little steps. 

Monday, 10 October 2016

The Sixth - Empathy

I've said before that I've kindness on this journey from other people than I have deliberate insensitivity. More people are thoughtful than thoughtless. 

In the early days I took thoughtlessness and insensitivity incredibly badly. I wasn't very forgiving of people who put their foot in it, or worse. Grief was so raw, everything was so broken that I just couldn't see beyond that. I raged that some people didn't have the foresight to find a better more appropriate thing to say. 

Over the years I've softened. Become more charitable. More forgiving. 

Most of the time I don't get so worked up about it anymore. That is not to say that I always handle it well, but I can now, let it wash over me, even though it still very much stings when people that should know, forget, making a careless comment, or neglect to acknowledge that I had a daughter.  That there was one more.

And I get it. Only I can carry Anabelle like I do and only three of my children can be seen.

But empathy for me today is counting my children carefully. Four.

Those that know; including her, validating her. Allowing me to still openly be her mother and not a part of my life that should be hidden away.

And I'm lucky, because I am surrounded by people that do, and allow me, just that!  

Just this last week my Mother and Xander were having a conversation about who was born first. His birthday is coming up and he is of course excited about being the biggest and getting bigger. But my lovely little boy still remembers his sister. When Mum made an innocent comment about him being first, he said "No, Belle was first, and then me Nana!"

Even my almost five year old can already manage empathy (click to open)!

The time of concern is over. No longer are we asked how are we doing. Never is the name of our child mentioned to us. A curtain descends. The moment has passed. Her life slips from recall. There are exceptions, close and compassionate friends, sensitive and loving family. For most, the drama is over. The spotlight is off. Applause is silent. But, for us the play will NEVER end. 

The effects on us are timeless. Say HER NAME to us. On the stage of our lives she has been both leading and supporting actress. Love does not die. Her name is written on our lives. The sound of her voice replays within our minds. You feel she is dead. We feel she is of the dead but still she lives. She ghostwalks our souls, beckoning in future welcome. 

You say she was our child. We say she is. Say HER NAME to us, and say HER NAME again. It hurts to bury her memory in silence. What she was in flesh is no part of our now. She was our hope for the future. You say not to remind us. How little you understand; we cannot forget. We would not if we could. 

We understand you, but feel the pain in being forced to do so. We forgive you because you cannot know. And we would forgive you anyway. We accept how you see us, but understand you see us not at all. We strive not to judge you, but we wish that you could understand that we dwell in both flesh and in spirit. The mystery is that you do too, but know it not. 

We do not ask you to walk this road. The ascent is steep and the burden heavy. We walk it not by choice. We would rather walk it with her in the flesh, looking not to spirit worlds beyond. We are what we have to be. What we have lost you cannot feel. What we have gained, you cannot see. 

Say HER NAME for she is alive in us. She and we will meet again, although in many ways we've never parted. She and her life play light songs on our minds, sunrises and sunsets on our dreams. She is real and shadow, was and is. 

Say HER NAME to us and say HER NAME again. She is our child and we love her as we always did.



Author Unknown
My Photo
Caz
After Anabelle - Raising Rainbows. I'm Caz, Mummy to beautiful angel Belle and my wonderful rainbow boys, Xander, Zachy and Luc. Wife to Jon. Twitter @cazem Instagram @cazzyem
View my complete profile
Instagram

Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Lilypie Angel and Memorial tickers

Followers

Mumsnet Badge

mumsnet
Written by C.E Morgan. Powered by Blogger.