I never met my daughter, I carried her for 21 weeks, but I never got to know her on the outside, however, I’ve given her a personality, I’ve built up an image in my head of who she would be.

I always wanted a girl, and decided to make the most of it – I type her name in script and imagine her in dresses. I adorn her grave in pink and bunnies.

She’s my pink, swirly, floral, delicate girl. 

I know that in reality she was quiet compared to her brother – when I was pregnant with him I could see him kicking from 19 weeks (actually see my bump moving) but when I was pregnant with Effy-Mae I barely felt her moving in 21 weeks, (but then everyone’s quiet compared to her brother!) so that fits in with my image of her.

She may have turned out to have been a tomboy, hating dresses, refusing to go out in anything but dungarees, but I’ll never know, I have to work with what I know! Maybe she’s sat, wherever she is, watching me bring yet more pink flowers to her grave (and tutting when her dad has brought yellow ones,) complaining that she hates pink and would it kill me to bring her some orange?!

Yes I sound insane, but giving her a personality, even though it’s all in my head, keeps me sane!