One year ago today since I placed you on my shoulders for the first time. One year ago that you burrowed your tiny fingers into my hair. One year ago today that I placed you on my shoulders for the last time.
It is 50 short days since you have been gone a year. That’s 315 days, 7,560 hours, 453,600 minutes and 27,216,000 seconds that I have lived in the pain of losing you. 315 days since life swam through your veins. 315 days since mummy’s heart lost its beat. I wondered the other day what it was like before you were born, if this is what it was like but I couldn’t even imagine what life was like without you in it. It is so cruel that you were here and then you were gone. As the evenings draw in, darker and darker, it is a constant reminder of ‘that’ time of year. The time of year that was supposed to be filled with your impatient birthday countdown, followed quickly by the Christmas countdown, but I will never get to buy you an advent calendar, I will never be able to sit and help you to write a letter to Father Christmas with your wish list of crazy presents, taking you to the post box and lifting you up so you could post your first letter. I will never see the excitement on your face on Christmas morning, and you will never see the excitement on mummy’s face on Christmas morning, drinking you in, knowing you are the only present mummy would ever need. Instead I am left counting down the days until your second birthday, our first birthday without you. We only ever had one birthday, your first, and your last. How is that fair? How is it fair, that we tried so hard for so long to have you in our life, and then, in a heartbeat you were gone.
As each day gives way to the night, I look up at the stars, memories seeping from veins, the words my heart cannot speak escape from my eyes, my face stinging with the remnants of another moment lost in time, a moment in my life that feels like a lifetime. My body feels so heavy, laden down with grief, pain and the fear of the unknown, but equally as weightless, serving no purpose, floating through every day like a feather in the wind. I have no place without you. In 9 days time mummy will sit down and listen to what went wrong, NHS England will explain to me what modifiable factors were involved in your death. Knowing that you would have lived, you would still be here with me now had mistakes not been made. If it’s even possible it’s harder knowing that you died from something that if caught early enough could be treated, like when we took you to the doctors. It hurts to know that we took you to the doctors so many times, but pneumonia was allowed to manifest in your tiny little body. My mind is stuck in reverse, desperately clawing at a moment in time that I cannot replace, but need to. I want to crawl back in time and scream from the rooftops what was wrong with you, I need someone to listen, I need someone to know that it is me that knows you. Your mum, your everything, my everything.
I miss you. I miss all the little moments we shared, I miss your bed hair, I miss trying to convince you to take the toothbrush out of your mouth. I miss you cheeky little smile when you heard your toast pop up. I miss being your mum, I miss dropping you off at nursery and I miss picking you up, seeing the smile erupt on your face when you saw me. I miss wondering what you would be doing when I’m at work. Sitting eating a packet of crisps when you’d be having risotto or roast beef. I miss knowing that I was doing everything I could to give you the best start in life. I miss seeing the look of accomplishment on your face when you clapped your hands, I miss sitting on the sofa with you in my arms, drunk on milk, snuggled into my neck, knowing that I really shouldn’t let you sleep on me knowing I’d have to wake you when you went to bed, but letting you do it anyway. I miss being happy, I miss that feeling, the feeling of knowing you would always be there. I miss me, I miss being mummy, I miss life, I miss life with you, because nothing compares. There is absolutely nothing in this world that compares to you. Your arms were the most precious jewels around mummy’s neck.
You were my salvation, you are my salvation, my love for you will, I know reach heaven, because it can reach round corners, twists and turns, it is no illusion, it sees through any object, it is palpable, it is tangible. It is transcendental.