how are you little man? I thought I’d write you a quick letter because I’m missing you so much. It’s hard to get through the days sometimes, things feel meaningless now without you on the way. It takes all my energy just to keep my emotions in and do the routine things.
I don’t like Sundays much anyway but I hate them now. Mummy is starting to move our things so we can swap rooms with your big sister. She is going to have the attic and we are going in the front bedroom because it is just across the landing from your nursery. We thought that your sister would need some extra space now that she is going to be a smelly teenager soon and when you & I would have night feeds we wouldn’t keep her awake. She is looking forward to having a new room and I got excited too because it meant you were coming but then I remembered that you wouldn’t be coming home. It’s just a change of rooms but I’m feeling quite emotional about it. It’s sad that your crib is in your nursery and not in our room. Maybe your little brother or sister will come along to use it soon. I hope you will send us a sign soon.
Miss you and love you lots little prince, love from Mummy xxxxxx
how is my little mush pea? Thank you for coming to say hello this past two days, it always makes my heart feel warm with love. I know you have been messing about with the landing light! It really helped us feel a little more confident about going to the hospital. We are hoping to have our two frozen peas transferred soon and are hoping we will be lucky enough to have a brother or sister for you. I miss you so much and life has changed in every way, so this feels the only way to restore some hope for the future. A sibling would be a piece of you too, we feel like you would live on in them. We are so sad and angry about having to try again when it took us so long to have you but it’s our only option.
It was really hard being away without you last week, there were babies and children everywhere. It just made your loss so real. I felt like nothing made sense and felt so out of step with the world around me. I hope you enjoyed the Sandcastles we built for you and that you liked the sea and ice cream 🙂
I can’t believe that you would of been here in six weeks time, I did have a cry into your little bear suit with the ears on the hood. It breaks my heart that you will never get to wear it.
Love you and miss you lots, big kisses, love from Mummy xxxxxx
we have had an emotional couple of weeks haven’t we. Mummy and I are comforted to have your ashes back from the wonderful Special Care Feotal Creamtions service in Sheffield. You are the first baby born before 24 weeks to be cremated in this way and also the service’s first cremation. I am really proud of you for making your own piece of history.
Mummy and I have been taking small steps into the world and it has been a very trying time. We are going back to our life now that our future has gone. But we can’t go back to life as it was before. We are in a time warp where everything is back to front and nothing makes sense. On somedays I have started to feel that you are with me all the time, that you’re in my blood and in everything that I do. Other days still feel very detached from you, like you are lost and I am wondering and searching for you. Somedays I still think you are going to come back and this past few months will have been a mistake.
Then the reality hits me that you really have gone and no amount of tears or screaming, anger or heartache will ever change it. I am still learning that this is fact, not fiction. We have come down to Cornwall which is one of our favourite places. Each time we come here I’ve said “next time we come we’ll have a baby”. Every year came around and we visited still with no baby. And again now with no baby, just your memories. There is so much I don’t know about you and I never will know now. I wanted to show you all the beaches, teach you to surf, watch you play in the sea and sleep tight after a long day of new experiences. It breaks my heart that we won’t get to do these things.
I hope that you are with us this week so that we can show you some of the beaches. It’s not the way I wanted to show you but it’s the only way I can now. We are going to pick up some shells and stones for your memory box and write your name in the sand. How about we build the biggest sandcastle we can? I’ve got some flags we can put in the top.
Lots of love and kisses, miss you heaps, Mummy xxxxxx
Weekends are a lonely time. A stretch of restless, timeless hours. Sunrise rolls into sunset and back out again, like a tide of light that bookmarks the days. Weekends used to be days I looked forward to, for family time. The house feels so empty and quiet when it should have been a busy and noisey time with our baby on the way.
There’s no nursery to finish off, no car seat to collect, no cloth nappies to prepare, no blankets to wash & dry on the line, no “wife, do that DIY before the baby comes” and no maternity leave to plan.
No 3rd trimester afternoon naps, no bump for my wife to put moisturiser on anymore or to kiss goodnight, no kicks or movements, no cravings, no maternity clothes, no shiney hair and glowing skin.
No excitement, no plans, no role or purpose, no life planned out, no day dreams about places to show him or things to teach him. No anxiety about breast feeding, no antenatal appointments or baby yoga. No sleepless nights, no teething, no colic and no screaming. No new baby smell, no snuffly noises, no cuddles and kisses.
Just a void of raw sadness and the anxiety of such a vast empty space now he has gone. I don’t know what to do with myself at the weekends now. Is this it? Is this life?