July 7, 2012 § Leave a comment
Once Rèmy had gone, I was struck violently with the most intense loneliness. It was was my lowest moment.
I wrote a letter to Rèmy in hospital on my first night without him. It helped to articulate the pain.
Rèmy, dearest one – our baby,
I wish you knew how much we wanted you. I wish you knew how
much you were transforming our lives. Maybe it was too much
to put on you, because now you’re not here, not part of me –
now your heart doesn’t beat in time with mine, I feel such
an enormous emptiness.
You were our baby, our son. And you always will be. I was so
excited to meet you, but not like this… we melted seeing
your little heart beat in your dark little ribcage. We
melted seeing your strong nose, just like Daddy’s. We wept
when we realised you were our little boy. We had both wanted
a boy – deeply.
Rèmy- you leave me with an inconsolable sadness that I’m
afraid will consume me. I will try every day to be
optimistic, think positively, love and be loved by those
around me. But the path ahead is paved with tears and
memories, haunting self-doubt… your loss cripples me and I
am in pieces – missing you, wishing you weren’t gone,
wishing things were different.
I know that God has a plan, and lost pregnancies have
greater purpose… they are not punishment. But I can’t help
but wish that I was better at this. Twice now in 12 months –
losing our babies is heartbreaking and tragic: this was not
Rèmy – I’m so scared of moving forward from this moment.
You have thrown us a curve ball and I know that me and Daddy
will love each other and support each other to try our
hardest to not let your life be in vain.
Baby boy, rest in love and peace. You have made an
indelible mark on our lives and we will never be the same.
Love you more everyday.
To send a letter is a good way to go somewhere without moving anything but your heart.