Thursday, 26 November 2015

Dear Benjamin

feel there are moments in life that define us, moments that change us for ever. Moments where time is suddenly divided into "before" and "after". Moments where, looking back, you can't really comprehend how life was before that. 

26th November 2014.

After 11 days and 11 nights of tests, surgery, invasive examinations, hospital stays, tears and trauma, we finally had our answer. 

There was your heartbeat, with its own tiny, beautiful rhythm. And there you were... strong and fighting as much as ever. 

In the wrong place. That was all. 

One day technology will change and they'll be able to move tiny babies like you. Gently nudge you in the right direction. But it wasn't to be for us. 

26th November 2014.

Our last day together. 

Signing the consent forms, I felt like a murderer. For days all I had prayed for was for you to be okay, yet here I was agreeing to make sure that you couldn't be. 

You don't need to tell me, there was no way you could have survived, I know. But logic wasn't a factor for me in those days of endless uncertainty. I would have given anything. 

The last 365 days have tested me beyond anything else I have ever experienced. People often remark on how well I look or how happy I seem. I guess acting has become my forte. The aching, tightening, suffocating pain in my chest when I think of you has become a familiar vistor... In some ways, almost a friend - after all, if I didn't have any memories, I wouldn't feel any pain when I think of you. And thinking of you is always worth the inevitable anguish.

26th November 2014.

My dearest little B, you changed my life. You made me stronger than I thought I had the potential to be. You made me kinder yet more determined than ever. No-one would ever choose to join the virtual family of parents out there who can never hold their children, but meeting some of those people has been an incredible blessing. Helping, in whatever small way, other people talk about and honour the children they have lost has been incredibly rewarding. 

I have absolutely no doubt that you are in a far better place now. I only pray that you are safe and happy and that you know that for the entire time I had the honour of carrying you, you were loved and you were cherished. And that I would do anything to have you here with me now. 

Until we meet again, Benjamin, I know you're there in the stars when I look up on the darkest of nights. 

All my love, always.

Mummy x