The weekends are strange.
In theory, they are better than weekdays, because we can be together and there is no pressure to get out of bed. Except lazy Saturdays mornings should have included a little boy snuggled up in the duvet.
We are rather fanatical about our bed. It is massive and I cashed in quite a few John Lewis wedding vouchers so that we can sleep under the softest, most luxurious bed linen. It's just one of our things.
Obviously, we spent a lot of time, during my pregnancy, imagining the pure joy of lifting our baby out of it's Moses basket and onto the warm, soft space in between our just-woken-up bodies. Mmm, that baby smell, those soft toes, his funny faces, dribble.
It is still a dream and one that makes us feel sad at the start of the weekend. Toby cannot lie in anymore as it makes him feel too blue.
On Friday night, Toby started receiving donations for his double marathon challenge. It felt like Christmas, every time he received the email saying another person had pledged money. We were exhilarated and smiling. We also shed some tears when we saw how unbelievably generous people have been. And not just with their money, but the messages too are so touching.
It was, in the circumstances, a great night.
Then I went to bed and reality hit.