I have a confession to make.
I'm 34 years old, and I still sleep with a teddy bear.
It was cool when I was pregnant. All of the sudden, I had an excuse to cuddle up to something. Sore ta-tas will do that for you.
But, since losing Leila, I'm back to being just a weird thirty-something with a seriously juvenile penchant.
Yesterday Andrew and I went to Build A Bear, on a mission.
The bag that held Leila's ashes still had some residue in it after she was put into her memory box.
So I wanted to have that put in a sweet, cuddly bear for me to snuggle with at night.
This lamb was perfect. We put the little bag into the stuffing, sewed her shut, and now I have a little bit of Leila to hold.
Either very comforting or a bit disturbing, you decide.
But right now, it's about what gets me through the night.