Today we travelled from Kent to Bournemouth for our break away.

A lovely parent blogger is letting us stay in their family holiday flat.

We still had a lot of packing to do this morning and so had a usual breakfast and play before we were ready to set off.

The car journey was long and even with music playing and story CDs to listen to I could not stop my mind wandering with such a long time with nothing to do.

David was doing the driving.

I was reliving the night Matilda died.

I am not really sure why.

A series of flashbacks.

Not in any order.

But of moments I remember from the night.

The flashbacks come to me whenever I am too still or too quiet.

It is why I have to keep busy.

Silence is no longer golden for me.

I hate it.

At Matilda’s funeral I have asked the vicar for there to be no silence.

There will be times for reflection and personal prayer.

But they will be filled with photos and music.

To keep the haunting flashbacks at bay.

We were busy once we arrived at our destination today and everything was okay for a while.

The children belonging to this house are obviously Thomas fans too though Esther and William thought that the engines they found had been placed here just for them!

It was wonderful to see them settle down in the lounge and play with the engines. Their engines!

I think when we look back at this time we will always be thankful for Thomas.

Esther and William had a wonderful bath time.

Yesterday they had their first proper bath together since Tilda died.

Today they built on that in the big bath here where they can practically swim around together.

After the bath we did a Thomas puzzle together and had some stories before bed.

Esther and William were very excited at first to be sleeping in their special holiday beds.

But they were not really very tired after a long day in the car.

So they took longer than usual to settle.

David and I struggle now when they are not happy in bed.

David in particular finds it hard especially if Esther cries out for him as she so often does.

It was at this point too that we realised we had forgotten to bring a monitor!

Panic set in.

We would not be able to hear them.

We would not know if something was wrong.

We talked about going out to buy a monitor.

Thought we could wait til the morning.

But what if something was to happen over night?

There is no longer room in our life for ifs, buts and maybes.

We have to be sure we have done all we can.

Follow our instinct.

Act on our fear.

And we did feel frightened.

I am terrified now as I write this alone.

David is out hunting for a monitor.

I am responsible for two little lives.

That responsibility has a whole new sense of meaning to me now.

Soon he will be back.

My strength, my security, my husband, their Dad.

And only then will I even think to relax.

I have always hated being without David.

We are a very close couple.

An extremely tight team.

We need each other more than ever now.

For the world to have any hope of making any sense at all.

We need us to be together.

I hate him not being here.

I feel physically sick.

And my heart is painful.

Like it is pressing hard against my chest.

I am not breathing as I should.

It is like I am holding my breath.

And waiting.

Waiting for David.

The clock is ticking.

Time keeps ticking on.

Tick follows tock follows tick follows tock (Thank you Leftfield!)

He is back.

I can feel my whole body releasing.

He has bought a monitor.

The responsibility is no longer mine alone.

Let our break away begin.

As we listen to our terrible twosome sleeping.

Never has the gentle sound of snoring tugged quite so hard on our hearts.

Every night time sound is a reassurance.

A reminder they are okay.

They will be okay.

Matilda had the most beautiful sleeping sounds.

Snuffles and snores and simpering sighs.

I miss them every night.

As I miss holding her in my arms.

And her nuzzling at my breast.

Helping herself to milk through the night.

I miss my baby girl.

I feel robbed of our nights.

Our days.

Of the toddler and child you would have become.

I miss you Matilda Mae.

You should be here with us little Baby Tilda.

We love you Tilda Mae x