amotherwithoutachild.com
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A personal journey through a mother's grief, my grief, about losing my child, William
I consider myself lucky that you are my son, that you picked me, I consider myself blessed that I was able to carry you inside my body for 9 months, that I got to give birth to you and feel every second of it and that I got to hold you in my arms for 382 days. You gave me the ability to be able to view life in its entirety, simply because your entire life was limited to only 382 days. In your short life you didn’t know anger, sadness, regret, or desperation. I won’t ever get to see you in your school uniform, I won’t get to collect you and listen to your ramblings about your first day, or any day, I won’t get to help you with your homework, or console you if you weren’t picked to be in the team, I won’t get to watch you grow
“Parenting a child that isn’t here is infinitely harder, than parenting a child that is” When William died I can remember coming home for the first time since I had carried him out of our house when he had passed away. What I came home to was silence, but that silence was so deafening, the silence pierced every thought and I wasn’t able to escape from it
I have a very strange relationship with sepsis. Ultimately it is what caused the most devastating loss in our family
As we prepare for your little brothers baptism next Sunday I just can’t help but feel laden down with your missing presence. In a way I want to feel it, I want to suffer, I want to hurt, I hurt for you, I hurt for all that you are missing, I hurt that you don’t get to grow, that you no longer get to witness the sun rise and set. I was scared that I wouldn’t be a good enough mummy for you, that I wouldn’t know what to do, that I wouldn’t know what your needs were. I couldn’t protect you, I couldn’t save you.