Norah’s Wild Rumpus; Scafell Pike

Norah’s book has always been ‘Where the Wild Things Are’, by Maurice Sendak, we read it to her throughout my pregnancy, nicknamed her our Wild Thing, and painted scenes from the book to hang in her room. When Norah died, Where the Wild Things Are took on a new meaning; we felt as though a…

The tempering of grief.

In the very early days of our grief we could do little more than exist. Crushed beneath the weight of our daughter’s death, even breathing felt impossible. In the two weeks that Norah was alive we existed on very little anything; sleeping, eating and living along with the chaos of new life and the brutality…

Drowning in our differences.

My husband and I have been married for almost three years now and together for almost seven. We have easily spent 95% of our time in the last eight years together; we were best friends before we were partners and we have built our world around each other. Our marriage has endured job losses, health…