Albie’s gift

26/10/2026

Dear Albie,

We’ve been picking our pumpkins for this year.

Remember when we did that with you?

We chose the biggest one we could find, just so we could squeeze your little bum inside and get that classic Halloween picture.
It still makes me laugh.
You had no idea what we were doing, but you went along with it anyway, smiling through the chaos.

Milo is all set for trick-or-treating this year. He’s going as some sort of weird alien thing! I think you’d laugh at him so much. I wonder what you’d be dressing up as, probably a
t-Rex!

We never took you trick-or-treating. We thought you were too little and had plenty of years ahead for all of that.

Just another one of those times we thought we had more time.

If we’d known we only had that one blissful year with you, I wonder if we’d have done things differently. Said yes to every opportunity, taken you on every adventure, tried to squeeze a lifetime into twelve months.

But we didn’t know.

And it was still a magical year, wasn’t it? Quieter, perhaps, and less packed with adventures than I might have planned. But you were here, and you loved it, and we loved you.

Everything with you was a one-off.

One Halloween.
One Christmas.
One birthday.
One brilliant year of you.

And as much as I wish we’d had forever, I’m so grateful for all those times. All those ordinary days that were filled with nothing much at all, yet somehow contained everything.

A lifetime of little memories for me to cherish, to revisit and get lost in as each occasion comes around again.

Memories of you being here. Of you being ours.

And if, by any chance, you do trick-or-treating in the sky, eat all the sweets you can, my love.

You made life so very sweet after all.

Love you, pumpkin.
Mum

25/10/2026

Did you send the storm, my love?
I wonder why you’d do such a thing.

Have you grabbed a fan and started flapping it about, blowing trees from side to side and scooping up empty bins to scatter across the street?

Have you found a watering can and decided to sprinkle it over us all? Soaking anyone brave enough to venture outside and keeping the cats tucked up at home.

Have you painted the sky a dark, dark grey? It’s the middle of the day, but it feels like we should be tucking up in bed.

And I wonder why you’d do this.
Why you’d send such a turbulent message.

But maybe I was reading the message wrong.

Maybe the wind is an invitation to grab a big bag and run outside, creating the very best makeshift kite we can manage.

Maybe the rain is a reason to stay cosy indoors, listening to it patter against the windows as we watch a film together.

And perhaps the darkness is there to remind us how beautiful the blue sky is when it returns. Until then, we’ll switch on the fairy lights and make our own little world glow.

So thank you for the storm, in all its beauty and force.

And whilst it may not be as classically beautiful as a robin, a white feather, or a rainbow, it is beautiful still.

Not every message arrives in the way we expect.

We just need to look a little harder. A little differently.
To find you.

24/10/2026

If any of you lovely lot would like to pop over and follow my page I’d be so grateful.
It’s a scary but exciting venture for me and I’d so appreciate you joining me there 💙🩵

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=61594002552033

Poetry for anyone who has ever loved deeply, lost terribly or simply felt a little too much

23/10/2026

Dear our little Albie,

I wonder how you are doing just now. Is it autumn in heaven, too? With trees that turn orange and a cup of hot chocolate always close by? I hope so.

We went on a plane recently, flew above the clouds. Your brother had been so excited at the thought of this. He thought we might catch a glimpse of you. It broke me to tell him that wouldn’t happen.

But maybe you saw our plane passing?

I do like to believe we were one tiny step closer to you.

Things are busy down here. I’m trying my best to do you proud, but if I’m honest, sometimes it’s hard. I’m not sure I could ever do being your sidekick justice. On my very best day, I’m simply a copy of your kindness.

I’ve been writing lots. I even have a book coming out. You loved books, didn’t you? The Gruffalo and Tiddler, oh, and of course, Spider Sandwich!

My book won’t be full of bright pictures like those ones are, but it is packed with love. I think you’d like it for that reason.

We lit a candle for you for the Wave of Light last week. I wish the only candles connected with you were the ones on your birthday cake each year. I can’t believe you would be five next year. I still think of you as my little one-year-old.

But we lit our candle anyway and joined the world in creating a wave of light for you and all your little buddies up there.

Did you see it?

Oh and guess what…We have a storm coming this weekend! I think you’d find that quite exciting. We’re all going to stay home, cosy and safe. I hope, more than anything, that you are cosy and safe, too.

Love you forever,
Mum

18/10/2026

Always grateful to those who were there for us 🩵✍🏻

Mum Daisy McKenzie, enjoying family time away, reflects on those who were there for her when things were not so good.

15/10/2026

I am never not thinking of you.
💙💙Albie McKenzie 💙💙

15/10/2026

Always remembering Albie
💕💙

15/10/2026

It’s been a pleasure sharing my words and Albie cute pictures with you this baby loss awareness week.
Tonight we’ll light our candle and join the rest of the world in remembering our little ones gone too soon. Please - if you can - light a light and think of our boy💕

💙💙

When the warm summer sun kisses my cheeks and warms my soul,
It’s you.

When I get my Frappuccino and it’s perfectly cold and refreshing,
It’s you.

When everyone laughs together and reminisces about times gone by,
It’s you.

When the water covers my toes as I paddle in the sea,
It’s you.

When the stars shine so brightly and the moonbeam lights up the world,
It’s you.

And some may say these aren’t signs,
Not messages,
Nor memories.

But I say to them, you were beautiful.
You were kind.
You were wonderful.

You were, you are everything.

So everything reminds me of you.

14/10/2026

Ok I think this sunshine is getting to me🌅😅
I didn’t feel my first thank you poem for day 6 really gave my gratitude justice. So I’ve tried again. Maybe there are just no words that can sum it up.
Day 6 of BLAW (take 2!)
Thank you Held In Our Hearts💕💙

Let me know which you prefer!

Some people have a way of knowing.

Of knowing what’s needed: a chat, a hug, a space to remember.

Of hearing what you really want to say, whether through tears, silence or screams.

Of offering advice when you need it, but equally, being a space to share, where no answers or solutions are needed nor wanted.

Of remembering the important things. The dates, the milestones, the days others might not realise are significant at all but mean the world to you.

And these people know because they’ve been there.
Walked a similar path.
Endured a similar pain.

And somehow, they take that pain and turn it into empathy.
Into compassion.
Into love.

And that is no small thing.

To take the hardest thing you’ve ever been through and somehow turn it into a lifeline for someone else.

A line as important as any emergency number you might dial.
A line as vital as the rope anchoring a boat at sea.
A line that holds you steady as you tightrope your way through this world.

A line that save people
A line that saved me

14/10/2026

Baby loss awareness week day 6🩵
Thinking of the support I received from Held In Our Hearts. I don’t think I could ever put into words how grateful I am but I hope this poem summarises it a little.❤️

Nothing could scare you away.

No detail of my story was ever too much,
and no part was ever too little.

Coming to you felt like finding home.
Like a wood fire glowing,
a cup of hot chocolate warming my hands,
and suddenly,
everything felt a little safer.

Even when there were no words,
you listened.

My cries were heard.
My screams were heard too.
And somehow, against all the odds,
there was still room for laughter.

No topic was ever off limits.

“Am I going to be okay?”
“Do I have lipstick on my teeth?”
“Why did my baby die?”

The enormous things.
The little things.
The things with no answers at all.

Because sometimes,
being heard was enough.

And even when nothing made sense,
you understood.

You knew when I needed a hug,
when I needed tissues,
and when I needed space.

Your kindness never felt complicated.
It was like hearing a song
with lyrics so perfect,
you wondered if someone had written them
especially for you.

You just got me.

So thank you.

For holding me in your hearts
when I could barely hold myself.
For holding me when mine was breaking.
And for helping me find the strength
to let it keep beating.