In November, to celebrate our daughter’s 2nd birthday we made a fairy garden for her as well as a smaller one for our little baby to be who we lost ectopically.

Our daughter’s godmother read one of my favourite poems at the service we had to celebrate the 40 weeks of her life.

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart) by e.e. cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear;and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Because formatting is so important to e.e.cummings poems, you may want to see this in the correct format:


In a very related, but more biological, way, my lovely friend Victoria, a biologist, told me about how cells from babies (even those lost) remain in a mother’s brain (and perhaps can repair hearts). See her beautiful blog for an exceptional read:

A piece of you: fetal cells live on in their mother’s brains

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