I am still standing in the wake of all the stillbirth craziness from last week. I feel whacked in the head.
In one sense, it's been amazing. We've stood on the roof tops and sung his name. We've loved having the public space to revel in our boy.
Toby felt as though the marathon was a big long day out with his son. Together the ran and soaked up the attention and heard their names said together with excitment.
I loved seeing both of their faces running through the crowds spreading the word and giving our cause more publicity. I felt proud and that was nice.
I also feel confused.
Confused about how my life is changing. New job. New home. Less time to sit and stare at Bear.
I know it's good. I know we're moving forward and he is still with us. Stronger than ever, in some senses.
But as we creep towards five months since I kissed his toes, I feel heavy.
He will never be here. I know that now.
But he is still my lovely, gorgeous, perfect boy. I just wish it was all simpler and more joyous.