I apologise in advance for the sadness and gloom of this post, I am definitely not my usual upbeat, positive self today.
My hubby was outside with the girls in the garden, taking advantage of the fact that this is the first dry day we’ve had for about 3 weeks now. I had some time to try to sort out this dungeon of a house ha!
I was putting clothes away upstairs when I had the overwhelming urge to look at our son’s memory box. We bought a handcrafted box with his name on it after he died. I wanted somewhere special to keep all the reminders of my pregnancy and of him. The box stays on the top of my wardrobe and although I do look inside it every now and then, I haven’t for a while now. That’s when it struck me, that 1st July was the exact date I got my positive pregnancy test with him, I hadn’t even realised. It’s a date I remember in his pregnancy timeline, but not one that I ever think about. Until now that is.
I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotion that overcame me. I was lifting things out and poignantly touching them and holding them for a few minutes. Then I opened his memory book and I felt as though I’d been stabbed in the heart. His scan pictures are fading, what am I going to do? They are beginning to turn white and I can’t let that happen. I can’t lose those pictures, it will feel a bit like losing him all over again.
I ran downstairs and got my camera and furiously photographed them, but somehow that just isn’t them same. I know I can’t laminate them, but I just don’t know what to do. I know that I have actual Polaroid photographs of him dressed in his clothes, lying in our arms and in the hospital Moses basket, but I need his scans too. They meant so much at the time.
After all those years of mind numbing heartache, to have a scan with a real baby inside me was a life changing moment for me. They are one of my most precious possessions and I don’t want them to just fade and vanish. I cried for ages, I just sat on our bed and sobbed, really big hurting sobs. The kind of tears I cried in the days and weeks immediately after he died. Although I do still cry on and off regularly, it is never like this, this was like stepping back in time, this was like reliving the whole nightmare all over again.
I eventually pulled myself together and went outside to join my family. My hubby, of course knew I’d been crying and asked me why and I just erupted again, great sobs, I could barely even get the words out to tell him. I was also trying to avoid the girls hearing and seeing me. Luckily the chickens were holding their attention, so I just went back inside until I calmed down.
I know there isn’t really anything I can do, I know like all pictures they will eventually fade completely. I’m just not ready for that to happen yet. I need to have some physical evidence of his existence, I need to be able to look at him whenever I want. I need to open that box on his birthday and at Christmas and talk to my little man.
I don’t ever ask for much in this life and I think I’m a pretty decent person, but I’m asking now. Don’t take my son away from me again. My heart can’t stand another battering
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