Hello everyone. Well I went into work today and people asked 'How was your weekend?' to which I replied 'My husband and I drove down to the south coast to spread our baby's ashes." Silence... Actually I didn't tell everyone that. Just the people who kept asking after I gave the small talk answer.

So that's what we did last weekend. My parents are Buddhists and we've had Hamish's ashes at the temple they go to for the past few weeks. The nuns there have been doing a service for him every Sunday. According to Buddhist belief, the soul goes to its next destination after 49 days after which time the person's ashes must be scattered into the sea to free them from this life.

I didn't want to give up Hamish's ashes, but I didn't want to be the one who jeopardised his chances of going to heaven.

So on Sunday we went for a long drive. We finally found a small beach with a big cliff-face and decided that it was the right place. I read a prayer and DH opened the urn and released our baby's ashes into the wind. I was OK until I saw his tiny little bones. I'd been telling myself for weeks that those ashes aren't Hamish, they're just his earthly remains, but there's no mistaking that he was real and now he's gone when I'm looking at his bones. I'm not OK with seeing his bones and I can't stop thinking about them.

I think of those bones then I think of the legs they used to be and how they used to kick and kick. Then I wonder why those legs had to stop kicking, and why I didn't get to see them crawl, and walk and run.

Despite all that, I did get a sense of closure knowing that we've done everything we could for Hamish to go to heaven. I really hope he is there and that he's happy and safe.