This is the picture I bought for our room when we were in Cornwall. The message is special to me as for quite a while after losing Henry I kept finding little white feathers, particularly if I was having a sad day. When I saw it I welled up and knew I had to buy it. Sometimes it is just nice to believe that he's not gone completely. I haven't seen any in a while.

Have just been having a sort out in the bedroom and loft and various other cupboards. I tidied the shelf where Henry's memory box is. Inside are his tiny hand and foot prints and the baby grow he wore and his hat. The baby grow is blue and says Little pirate on it. I haven't opened that box for five years. I am too scared that I won't be able to control the grief. I am scared to touch something so precious-something that still exists that touched his skin. I am scared to touch it in case I rub off any trace of him.

There is also his hospital bag that I packed in excitement weeks before he was due when I didn't even know he was a he. He was just our baby that we longed for. We have never been able to unpack it. There is a blanket in there that they wrapped him in on the neonatal unit. They let me keep it. I am too afraid to touch that too for the same reasons.

And then there is a huge stack of cards we received after he had gone. They should have been congratulations cards. They are full of words that people didn't know how to write. It meant a lot that people tried.

I went to a party with Eva this afternoon. It was one of her preschool friends birthdays. I talked to another preschool Mum there I've not met before and as the conversation went on she revealed that she is a paranormal medium. I think she expected me to think she's a weirdo and back away but I am quite open minded about things like that. She told me all about the stuff she does and I asked her how she knew she could do stuff like that. She said she first realised when she knew things about people that she couldn't have known otherwise. She said she can see ghosts. It was a wierd and interesting conversation. I wondered if she knew about Henry. We didn't get to finish the conversation as her little boy needed her attention.

It would be nice if someone could just tell me that wherever he is, if he's anywhere, that he is OK. And that he knows we love him and will never forget him.