Dear Freddie,
Today you should be six months old. I’ve been dreading this one but it hasn’t been as bad as it could have been. Maddy and I went shopping and yes, the place was full of little boy outfits and little boys and yes, I did look at an outfit for a six month old but truthfully, it’s the babies that still break me, not the ones of the size you could be. Not this week anyway. I can’t imagine you as a six month old, I can only think of you as the tiny, still boy that you were, soft and beautiful and oh so new, but already far too broken to stay.
I could torture myself that it should be time to start you on solids now, that we should have done six months of cuddles and mummy milk but really, my milk didn’t save you, there was no magic in that that kept you alive and you only even tried to feed from me twice. We gave it a go, I think I hoped that you’d feel my nipple and somehow miraculously wake up and know all the things you were supposed to do.
This month, actually, has been terrible. You’ve been so very not here and so very absent. So very much something that I can no longer remember. I can’t recall the weight of you or the feel of you; the memories of those 11 days are still not back. So many baby boys have been born since you came. But these last few days, not quite so terrible. I’ve got to a milestone without you. I should have a six month old – and I don’t. You might be crawling. You might be chuckling and rolling over. You might be sitting. You might be swiping at us for food and supping the first bits of solid mush.
You might be lying in a crib in hospital, still on a ventilator, with me knowing that I had that one critical moment to let you go and I blew it for us all. I might have a room full of tube feed equipment and medicines. I might have my girls in school and my marriage in tatters.
Inch by inch, I’m moving forward. I don’t like it, it’s not pretty, but I am. With or without a little brother or sister for you, we have to go on. I have to stop looking at your photos and counting the days and weeks and months. I have to honour you with life for us all. I’d like to honour you with a new life too, to let you know that you made such a profound difference to us that now we all feel the space. I’d like to believe that it will happen and go well and be right for us all. I’d like to seal the space after you with a full stop, so we can see it, remember it, love it.
To do that, I have to let you go a bit now. I need you to let me go too. Could you? Please?
Oh Merry, no words but I just can’t believe it’s been six months. It doesn’t seem possible. Sending so much love to you all.
Huge hugs
Rachel
You’re so eloquent in describing the agony you’re going through. I’ve never cried so much at anything as I have over your posts, yet I can’t understand what you’re going through and only hope I never can. Thank you for letting us into your lives in this way. You are so strong, just going on as you have and not ending up in tatters with your girls in school, but as you say, you are honouring Freddie by not doing so and he would be so proud to have you as his mummy. I can’t help agonising over this comment, hoping I’m not saying anything that’s out of turn, but I felt I had to say this, to support you, encourage you and let you know how much you’ve touched my life {{hugs}}
Merry,
Your posts about Freddie are so beautiful and poignant – they never fail to bring me to tears. I feel so much for you, from the moment you lost him, I have felt for you…yet you are so dignified and eloquent in the way you speak to him. The love you have for your daughters and little Freddie shines through so much. You are very special,an amazing woman and mother. Thank you for sharing these feelings with us. xx
Very beautiful. I hope that, if it’s right, you can let each other go, just far enough to move…
Love and hugs, as always you make me cry xxx
Dear readers, I am so sorry about the weeping. But thank you for your lovely comments 🙂
Merry,
Six months is far too long to be without our boys, yet it is only the beginning. Hopefully it gets easier sometime.
So glad you are able to have that last sentence there, big step :o) huge hugs as always xx
Sending you all love, six months is too long, I’m so sorry.x
Hi,
Iv been reading your blog for a year or so now but never commented, Iv gone to comment on many occastions but felt it to be the wrong time!
Can i first say im so very sorry that you had to let go of such a lovely little boy.
Iv always loved your style of writting and as i read i feel as if im there with you, feeling what your feeling.
Please dont let me speak out of turn but have you ever/would you ever consider putting this all into a book?
Not even to publish or even share but for you. For the future. For your girls?
A diary that may offer support or just act as a tribute to him now hes gone.
I have no doubt you will always have this blog to look back on, and the lovely tress you have planted but maybe you could think of another lasting tribute that will comfort you over the next few years and beyond.
I do hope i have not spoken out of turn but i think your blogging and powerful words has helped a lot of women, and it could help even more.
Maybe a book on your experiances with a donation going to SCBU would also be a lovely tribute for your family.
I understand that your loss is private and to go writting books would make it avaiable to others, maybe slightly to widely and be too painful. Just thought i would share my suggestion with you.
I have no children, maybe one day i will and your story has taught me a lot. Not only child loss but the way your raise your 4 daughters is also insiparing.
Thankyou for being so honest.
J.
I’m so sorry Merry. It is too long.
I don’t know if all those memories ever come back. I know I’m still searching for some of my own.
I also wonder about the reality of her still being here, two years on. I know, in my heart of hearts, I would have one perfectly healthy twin and another very ill little girl. It’s hard to imagine what it would be like isn’t it?
It is tricky balance, I don’t think you have to let Freddie go. Another blogger told me once that it is a little bit of letting go and a little bit of holding on tight both at once. Does that even make any sense?
C xo
Beautiful words, Merry and I love the words in Catherine’s comment about letting go and holding on both at once. Not an easy thing to accomplish.
Six months without your son, I’m so very sorry. Wishing you peace as you move along this path, whatever the future holds for your family.
Sweet Merry- I have found your blog form a fellow bereaved.
I lost my sweet son Cullen Liam on Sept. 11th. I have three living children and your story resonates with me. I am trying very hard to find my way and though I am far from it I thank you so much for sharing your story. I hope you will continue to write- for me it is a lifeline. I started my blog days after Cullen died and the community that has come from it gives me breath.
With grace- Leslie
*flings arms around all my lovely DBM friends* It just isn’t fair 🙁