bereavement · Childbirth · childloss · grief · infantloss · Labour · miscarriage · pregnancy · stillbirth · Uncategorized

Mummy Misses You, Otis.


I cannot put in to words how much I miss you, sweet boy. There are no words in existence to describe how much I wish you were here with me, daddy and your big sisters.

You didn’t deserve for this to happen to you. There are so many bad people in the world that have the chance to live and they take that for granted; and then someone as sweet, as innocent, as perfect and pure as you gets taken away. You did not deserve to leave the world before you got the chance to open your eyes and see it. You did not deserve for your tiny brain to be engulfed by a nasty tumour. You did not deserve for your perfect little body to be plagued by multiple haemorrhages. You did not deserve to only know your daddy and big sisters through hearing their voices. You did not deserve to die.

I would give my very last breath if it meant seeing you take just one, I really would. I know that your daddy would too. Yes, we are still young, but we have had a chance at life – you didn’t even get that. Finding out that we were going to lose you tore my heart in half and I just haven’t been the same since.

It doesn’t feel ‘right’ existing without you. And I’m doing just that – existing. I’m not living, I’m barely coping without you here. I’m existing because I have to. I have a duty to look after your sisters, I have a duty to carry on being a mum and it’s difficult. It scares me how difficult it has become. Not because I’m not capable – but because I am terrified of losing Cora or Maisie now, too. Having to bury one of my children was once just an irrational fear, but it’s now my reality. It’s completely rational because it has happened to me with losing you. I worry the second they leave my sight that it’ll be the last time I ever see them alive. No mummy deserves this. No child deserves this.

I’m sorry that you had to go, I will feel forever guilty for not being able to grow you properly. I will always blame myself, regardless of how many people tell me to think otherwise. I feel like I have failed you. The first thing I was supposed to do as your mummy was make sure you arrived Earth side safe and sound, and healthy. I couldn’t even do that. I’m not saying for a second that I didn’t deserve to be given the chance, because I loved you from day dot. From seeing those two pink lines on that pregnancy test, you were my son. I DID deserve you, I DID deserve the chance to be your mummy.

All the way through my pregnancy with you I was fussy. I took for granted that you were living. I assumed that you were going to be born alive and because of that I never focused on just getting you here living. I focused on what I was going to do once you had been born – I was adamant that I would breastfeed, for example; I was adamant that you wouldn’t be leaving my side over night for at least the first six months; I was adamant that you be born naturally instead of having a repeat caesarean. I would have had a caesarean and handed you to someone else overnight the day you were born if it meant having you with me. Those things just really did NOT matter. The things I thought most important in raising you just did NOT matter. What mattered is that you, a little person, a perfect human being, was safe and loved. What mattered is that you should have lived. I focused on your future instead of the ‘here and now.’ I wish I had just taken the time to focus on you as an unborn child, because that’s the only time I ever had you alive. That’s the only time you had a beating heart.

It doesn’t feel ‘right’ not having you here in my arms. They ache to hold you. That’s not metaphorical. I literally ache to feel your 5lbs1oz weight in my arms. It hurts, Otis. It really, really hurts. Mummy would do anything just to turn back to the day I first laid eyes on your beautiful but lifeless body, just to give you one more cuddle.

It doesn’t feel ‘right’ not watching your big sisters love on you. They miss you so much. They speak of you every single day. The girls constantly look at your pictures and cuddle them; they ask about you and they wonder where you are – I do try my best to answer the questions they ask about you, it just gets hard sometimes. When I tell the girls I don’t want to talk about it, it’s not because I don’t want to talk about YOU, I just cannot handle speaking your name sometimes. It hurts, Otis. But the love I have for you makes the pain worth it. I hope you know that.

The second I laid eyes on you my heart just exploded with love for you. I loved you already, but seeing you for the first time just took that love to another level. It would have been my instinct as your mummy to protect you for the rest of your life had you lived; I knew there and then, the minute you were born, that it would become my duty to protect your memory for the rest of MY life. And that, I will do. It is the least you deserve.

There are no words to describe how proud I am, as your mummy, that you didn’t give up. You have the same fighting spirit that your big sisters do. That’s one thing I do know about your personality. You fought so hard. I cannot begin to tell you how proud we all are of you for holding on, for fighting to meet us. I cannot begin to tell you how thankful I am that you didn’t give up and you let me cuddle you, kiss you, hold you, say hello to you face to face.

I am happy that you passed away peacefully; I’m thankful that our bodies came together, entwined as one, to ensure that you passed away not in pain. I’m glad that you never knew fear and that you never will know fear. The world is a scary place, you will never have to experience that. All you ever knew was warmth and love.

We didn’t choose for this to happen. When we found out I was pregnant with you, we didn’t choose to become the parents and siblings of a little angel baby. We didn’t choose to say hello and goodbye to you all in the same day. We didn’t choose for your grandparents to lose their grandson, or your aunts and uncles to lose their nephew. We didn’t choose for any of this. But if I had to do this all over again, if choosing and losing you meant having the chance to LOVE you, then I would pick for you to be our son again in a heart beat. I am BLESSED to be your mummy, I am thankful that we are your family, I am beyond honoured to have carried you within me.

I miss you, I love you, I will do both eternally.

Lots of love,

Mummy x







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