Ben is 11 days old. He is older than his big brother. It just is not right for that to happen when he is just so small. He is so loved, so part of us and I cannot believe that 11 days after Freddie’s birth I was sat at home, with aching, empty arms and a hole in my heart. I don’t know how we ever survived. It seems almost more remarkable now than it did then. How the hell did we manage to leave him? How the hell did we manage to keep going? It is even more laughable now to imagine that we coped because we hardly knew him than it it ever was. Ben is barely awake, hardly more so even than Freddie was, yet we would struggle to imagine life before him already.
They look like each other. I can see, almost matched day for day, changes in Ben’s face that are mirrored in the photos of Freddie. I don’t know whether to be glad about that or horrified.
They are brothers and they are never going to meet. Sometimes I wish I could hurt someone, anyone, to make me feel better about that. I wish there was someone to blame.
It is all just so wrong. I miss you Freddie, I miss you, miss you, miss you and I want you to come back. I would do nearly anything to be able to make that happen. It is never going to be okay.