I'm boiling with anger, pain, resentment, frustration and disbelief right now. Not about anything except that my son isn't here with his brother.

Elliot should have been lying on my quilt cooing at me next to Hugo at 6pm today.

He should have been in the park watching the children on the swings at 4.

He should have been at Rhyme Time in the library this morning.

He should be here.

And I am just so, so angry about it. I should feel 'special' for having twins, not for having a dead baby.

I should be able to perch one 5 month old identical piece of joy on each leg while I skype my brother in Japan and let my babies talk to his 2yr old and 4mth old.

I should be able to feel two little heads cuddling into my neck when they're tired.

I should be able to hear them cooing to each other in the cot in the morning rather than hearing one lonely little boy calling for me to have some company.

I hate this.