Little baby Gerri came into the world on Sunday about 4.30pm. It ended very suddenly, Ellen's hearty sucking on the gas and air reached a climax, she sat upright soon after and it was over.

Like that. The nurse looked at me with kind concern and asked "You Ok?" and my stress addled mind twigged that baby had entered into the world.

We then waited. Ellen had to go into surgery to make sure everything was alright (will spare you the details) and was finally out by 12. She finally drifted to sleep back in the room and I took the floor. My battle for sleep with the reclining chair lost and the desire to rest too great. Oily, tired and feeling like I'd been beaten around the head, I curled up at the foot of the bed and slept.

It's Tuesday now. I'm writing this at home where things are starting to feel more normal again. The weekend feels like it was of another time, the slow torture of our time at hospital will stay with me for many years, especially seeing what E went through. It felt fitting to give baby a name, especially after seeing the black and white pictures of the little one, so small yet so perfect. One of the nurses even took some foot and hand prints which she presented to us in a card. To be surrounded by tragedies of early infant death must take its toll but the nurses and sisters treated us with such tenderness and concern. One was a bit stern and grumpy, I christened her 'Chuckles' which brought a smile to Ellen's face.

Despite all we went through we managed a laugh, and will continue to in the weeks and months to come. X will be returning from Ashford on Friday so life will continue. He cleaned up round his Dads' for Christmas and will return laden with more treats and gifts than he knows what to do with. We mean to have a clear out of his old stuff and will have the time to do so. Whether motivation comes is another matter. I've started on the washing so I can distract myself, but also to keep the twitchy feeling of doing something at bay. More than ever the mental to-do list cycles through my brain, interspersed with sadder moments of introspection.

Still I feel positive today. Our little one has left us and we'll never forget her, but things do go on.