I FEAR I will have to get someone else to write about their world for a while to prevent regular readers from hearing about nothing else but our recent trauma.

We’ll all need a serious change of scene or topic in this section to give us something else to think about for a change.

Round our way we have been concentrating on how to recover from the death of our babies and how best to carry on with life.

There is so much anger and pain to try to process and live through, and come out the other side of, and it is so incredibly difficult to get on with things when we seem to be constantly surrounded by pregnant women, babies and children on television and in real life.

Additionally, my body is certainly still recovering from the physical and hormonal after-effects of two pregnancies and two resulting late miscarriages in a year.

I certainly won’t be looking my best when my parents take us on holiday later in the summer.

Even though concerns about my appearance are a shallow and rather ridiculous aspect of what has happened, it undeniably does affect your state of mind somewhat.

It’s hard to gee yourself up to trying to be positive when you feel sluggish and plump and can’t fit into last year’s shorts, or when you’re trying to get back into the saddle and back to work, but most of your normal outfits don’t really fit yet.

The resentment towards your own empty belly, or the simple, overwhelming sadness you feel when your hand rests on the area where there was once a growing baby, is frequently unbearable.

I have been trying to distract myself and keep myself busy – even though one of my good friends has advised not trying to run away from all of the sad things one might be feeling in case it bottles up and manifests itself in other ways.

One thing which has undeniably been a godsend for my idle hands in quieter moments has been the knitting of blankets for Sands.

We were so grateful when our own babies were wrapped in hand-knitted blankets, and had hand-crocheted hats placed on their little heads, after they were born sleeping.

The least I can do in return is to repay that favour in kind by knitting white memorial blankets to be included in the wonderful memory boxes which Sands provides for bereaved parents.

Above all things, we have tried not to lose hope and my mind has recalled, on many occasions, one of my favourite lines from Stephen King’s outstanding short story Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption, which was filmed in 1994 as The Shawshank Redemption.

I find the tale such an inspiring and comforting read / watch and particularly love Andy encouraging Red to hang on to faith in his future by saying “Hope is a good thing, Red, maybe the best of things, and no good thing ever dies.”

The last line “I hope…”rarely fails to bring me to tears.