Saturday, 31 January 2015


As the clock struck twelve on New Year's Eve, I sipped on water still hardly daring to believe.
They were strong, not faint, those two pink lines. Plastic sticks of proof that you could finally be mine. 
I was obsessed with staring at my bump to be, a little piece of my husband, a little piece of me. 
Dont think too far ahead, the advice did warn. I just ignored it, I wanted everything perfect for when you were born. 
A few days later, we had already picked out your name, a little too early, but a book was to blame. 
Seven weeks in, did you think it was time to say hello? You gave us a scare when the blood started to show. 
Laid on the bed, the sonographer gave a mutter. "You're only measuring six weeks, but look at the heart, there's a flutter."
I watched from the pillow as your tiny heart flickered fast. I printed the scan, so the memory could last. 
Back at home I was instructed bed rest. Little dot, you already knew how to put us to the test. 
You didn't know yet but your daddy is a little ill. Trying to rest when he needed help took all our of will. 
He whispered to you while you grew in my tummy. His voice is important, even more important than mummy's. 
I've always been impatient, maybe you did know. But I would have waited forever, instead of more blood starting to show. 
I was given an appointment at twenty past three. I savoured the day, still a mummy to be. 
Back in the same hospital and laid on the same bed. My mum grabbed my hand when the sonographer said
"I'm so sorry to say, what's there is too small. I'm ever sorrier to say, there's no heartbeat at all."
Tiny little thing, I cried for what could have been. I sobbed at the thought of all the broken dreams.
Some people may think you were too small to care. Not to us though, to us you were there. 
Did you want to give us more time, your daddy and me? You don't have to worry you did set us free. 
We have laughed, I have cried, we have talked about life, still just the two of us, husband and wife. 
The memory is safe in its little box, the one with the key, the one I keep locked.
And whatever the reason, I just want you to know. I will never forget you, tiny little baby who didn't grow. 

1 comment:

  1. If the same happening to me and my husband could have saved you from this pain, then it would have been worth it.
    You and your man are very special to have shared such depths, and we are certainly not in control as much as we think we are.
    You will be blessed, and all will be well.....if you allow yourselves to learn and grow from experiencing this short little life.


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