Today you turn one. A day that when you were first placed in my arms I never thought we would make. With every day passing filled with so much anxiety that you are on loan, that after day 382 we will have to hand you back, like we did with your big brother William, it felt like we would never reach this milestone. I have learned from losing William that I must manage my days and hours in bitesize pieces. Never looking too far ahead. A whole year seemed impossible back then. But here we are, we did it. You did it.
You my darling boy were born out of hope in the midst of grief. An innocent little boy with absolutely no knowledge of all that has happened before you. I have tried so hard to make sure that you have never witnessed mummy crumble, I don’t want you to be scared or worried about why mummy is upset. The time will come when we tell you that you have the most beautiful big brother, a brother who lived before you, a big brother that you will never meet but a big brother who is with you with every breath that you take. You see William’s photos all around you, you’ve watched mummy on the television talking about him, the time will come, but slowly you will get to know him.
But, you are you. You are your own little person. The most independent, determined and head strong little baby I know. Some say they wonder where you get that from…I don’t want you to grow up in your brothers shadow. Despite the attention your brother receives, it is YOU who bought us light out of suffocating darkness. You have been the reason that I have put one foot in front of the other. You are the reason I get out of bed on the days when life seems impossible; because do you know my little man, YOU saved my life. Some say that your big brother has saved hundreds, if not thousands of lives because he has given me the passion to campaign, but it was YOU that gave me the life to continue. You are part of this incredible journey. You are responsible for mummy taking a completely different path.
There was a time when mummy couldn’t bear to think about the next ten minutes of being alive. There was a time when mummy tried to take her own life; at the time believing that I could never exist without William. Had it not been for your daddy, mummy wouldn’t be here. There was a time when I couldn’t move, dress, speak coherently, or even think. I remember this time so vividly. A time I don’t wish to forget about, a time that is part of this indescribable journey of survival. It is a painful reminder of how many steps I have taken since then. They say there are five stages in grief, denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. I would say I have experienced some of these things. Not necessarily in that order. But the one thing I haven’t done is accept it. I don’t think I can accept the unacceptable. But during the most insufferable days when life has felt too much of a challenge I started to realise that the one thing your brother wants is his life. Who am I to waste the one, most precious gift that was robbed of him? I never realised this before you came along, you gave me the ability to see that as much as it’s okay to not be okay, it’s also okay to be okay. As they say the past is in our heads but the future is in our hands.
You have taught me that it’s okay to miss William whilst being able to love you too. You have taught me that it is okay to pine for William whilst being happy that you are in my arms. You have taught me that it is okay to be sad that William won’t reach the milestones that you will reach. As much as your brother floored me with the most overwhelming love, you have taught me that it can continue, for him AND for you. You have taught me that it is okay to live. You my darling boy, have lived on this Earth for 365 days and you will soon be older than William was but your innocence, your total, unrivaled, uninhibited love is something that I feed off daily, something that keeps me going and something that allows me to realise that you and William share a bond that is entirely unbreakable.
You are his and he is yours. You are both mine, and I am both yours, always.
Happy birthday sweetheart xxxxx
You are amazing what you have done to make people aware of sepsis. It must be hard for to carry on and the fear and worry for Arthur. I pray you have peace and contentment in all you do. Arthur is a beautiful little boy so is William. I send a circle of love and peace to you and your family to protect you all. You write so beautifully with such feeling it’s heartbreaking. XXXX
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Hello my friend in grief. I’m also a mother struggling with the life after the loss of my precious Ryder. I have a blog as well, but I don’t post much. It has been 3 years for me and I feel every emotion that you are going through. I’m so sorry for your loss of little William. Some days I would like to talk about it and other days I don’t. Ryder was 21 months old and he died the same way but we didn’t have a diagnosis of sepsis. We didn’t have a cause. He had been sick but they could not find a reason even after an autopsy. That has been hard as well. Undetermined. I wonder sometimes if it was sepsis, if it was SIDS, if his heart just stopped. I’ll never know this side of Heaven. If you feel like it, you can check out my blog, losingmybabyblues.com. It helps sometimes to know that you are not alone in your grief. Thanks for your posts. I know its not easy to put all of your feelings out there, but it can be therapeutic. I have dealt with so much anxiety and panic after his death. I have also had so many health problems as well since. I think sometimes grief kills the body as well as the soul. If you would like to talk, I am here to listen.
Hi – also a fellow Mammy in grief. Lost my beautiful red haired blue eyed boy to invasive group a strep but menegitis in his case. Very similar symptoms though or lack of. Tempretures and puking bile. 31 days today. Feels like 3 years. Went into a massive seizure at home and I knew that was it. I recognise your early days except I have a 10.week old. Then 5 week old. His big brother adored him. He’s my light and I see you say you can love properly again. It seems so hard.
In your pictures on your my story page. William is beautiful. So full of life – I have those pictures. My baby made it to 2yrs 4mnths. Sometimes I wish he’d take me with him. I have to stay for my new boy. X
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I’m so sorry you tread this path. So tragic, I am so so sorry. It is ok to not be ok, and it is ok to feel those feelings of complete desperation and feeling as though you don’t want to be here; it’s normal. It’s ok to have those parallel feelings. Every feeling you have is justified. You have and are still suffering such a traumatic event and your body and mind has to very very slowly process it. It’s not easy. I’m still processing it now. Your little boy will live on in your tiny little baby. It’s hard to see pass the most profound and devastating loss right now, don’t try to, don’t try to be anywhere else than where you are. Just ‘be’. Go easy on yourself. Sending love xxx