We left the hospital with empty arms.
We had a book with Sybella's hand and foot prints, a disc of photos, her hospital band and the pink blanket she had been wrapped in.
By the end of the week, our home looked like a florist and we had run out of places to put the vases. We even ran out of vases!
Upon arriving home, I shut the door to Sybella's room, such a beautiful room it is. I cleverly did the artwork on the walls myself and spent hours picking out the frilly pink lamp. After a few hours, I opened the door and windows because I thought that she needed sunlight and fresh air. I sat on the pink mat on the floor and cried into her hospital blanket. I talked to her while in there. I told her how I was looking so forward to bringing her home to her pretty, girly, frilly room. I sat there for a while, and the animal grief returned. I had my face in a pillow on the floor and by the end, the pillow was saturated...and covered in snot (sorry). The only reason I stopped crying was that a midwife had rung and wanted to talk to me, so I spoke to her through tears. She arranged a visit for the next day, which was mostly a counselling session, and organised for a midwife to ring me each day to see how I was travelling.