14 November 2009 - 24 February 2010 Our baby with Celtic red hair and Mongolian blue spots
Wednesday, 16 June 2010
Mummy is struggling...
Mummy's struggling today, can not stop crying, you are my baby boy, Mummy's angry that it happened, sad that you are gone, frustrated that there is nothing nothing in the world would bring you back. Your sister asked the other day: Mummy what would you do if you had a power for one impossible thing to be possible.' Mummy was saying 'Not sure' without thinking much while cooking. Then she said 'Remember, you would want Billy to come back, wouldn't you? You said that before'. Mummy felt bad and said 'Of course, I would bring Billy back'. If only there was something like that existed. The sun is shining and Mummy is still feeling rubbish inside, I don't think people would know or understand how it's like to lose a child if they haven't experienced it themselves. Sometimes, Mummy look at some people treating their children as a burden and think 'You don't know how lucky you are'. Mummy's golden chested silver bottomed baby boy, you are. When you were born, Mummy expected you to be on Mummy's chest beside Mummy and Daddy, but you were taken to the Special care, couldn't even see your face properly as Mummy was on the operating table. Then we didn't know what was going on for two, three hours, nothing, nobody came and told anything. The waiting time felt like a century, who would have thought this kind of waiting would become normal for you and us, waiting for test results, waiting for doctors and consultants to come and talk to us, tell us what's happening, what is working not working, and then the news, most of them were news we didn't want and we dreaded to hear. One tiny chromosome, who would have thought it had such power to destroy so much physically and emotionally. I remember when the doctors and nurses told us that there was no hope for you, the future looked very slim in surviving. They took us into this room, well they thought it's better to hear the news in a room with windows. Wonder it was for them or for us. Mummy and daddy didn't notice it anyway. Mummy was trying to be strong and asking questions and writing down, trying not to cry, biting my lips and squeezing the top of the pen, shaking inside, falling apart gradually. Your Daddy started sobbing holding his head and then the doctors left us to have a moment to ourselves. Mummy and Daddy held each other and cried, sobbed and comforted. Life was not fair. You died the next day. The world was mourning with us, it was snowy, windy, wet and cold. Your Daddy said it would make us angry if it was sunny. Mummy'll go now, get myself sorted and take your brother out. He was concerned that Mummy had tears. Mummy doesn't show much tears to your brother and sister, but occasionally like today they see it. I guess it's ok to show them that I miss you, so that they can feel they can do the same. Bye for now, my baby Buuz. Love you XXX
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