A year, 12 months, 52 weeks 365 days without our baby boy. To comprehend our loss cannot be achieved. To carry a baby in your tummy, to feel the kicks, the movements, to hear a tiny little heartbeat and see a little face on a screen fills you with so much love you feel like you're going to burst. Then to deliver your baby into this world, to hear his cry, see his face, hold his hand and you know with no doubt he is your pride and joy. Throughout that first night you dream, of his future, your hopes and dreams for him, how complete your family now is all because of this tiny little man. You wake up in the morning with a buzz in your tummy so intense that you feel like you're going to fly out of the room, you can't wait to show him off, boast, brag, beam, smile and love all oozes from every pore of your tired body. That was my first night after having my first born son, feelings that will never ever leave me now or ever. Because when you then have to make the decision to end your sons life, to take his breath away knowing he wont take another, to hold his hand with him squeezing you back and then to feel him go limp, to see the colour drain from his face and for the machines to no longer make their (now) normal sounds, to see the look of despair in your partners eyes, the pitiful look in the nurses eyes, you know that life can never ever be the same again. The hopes and dreams don't go away, they're stored. The love grows stronger, the pride doubles each day, the pain swells every second, the emptyness bores such a hole in the pit of your stomach, the broken heart dangles by a single thread threatening to snap any second. A year without your first born Son is quite simply hell on earth. I don't honestly know how we have managed to survive the last year, but one thing I do know is that Finn is and always will be our son, a brother, a grandson, a nephew and throughout this year there has not been a day that his name hasn't been spoken, I haven't not told him I love him, his Daddy hasn't cuddled his blanket, his sisters have spoken about him at school, with friends. Finn is a big part of our family unit and nothing can ever change this, not time nor distance. We have achieved what we wanted to achieve this year for BLISS, but we can never achieve what we need or want in respect of having Finn back with us. A whole year, to miss, ache, and hurt feels like a lifetime.