To my darling Angel (or Ziggy as I have been referring to you for the last few months)
I realised as I lay in bed last night that today could possibly be our final day together as conscious beings. Tomorrow Mummy will have to take a tablet to prepare my body to deliver you this Friday, and in doing so, your little heart will cease beating. And with it, so will a part of mine.
As I lay here with the wind howling and the rain pouring outside, I wonder if I will know the minute your heart stops. I wonder if I will feel it deep in the very core of my being. Like a piece of me has died, which if the truth be told, it will have.
I don’t know if I’m making the right decision by setting you free now, or if I should have held onto you for the full nine months, but I know that regardless of my decisions, you are needed elsewhere. And I trust that you will be looked after until we are reunited. Please wait for me there, sweetheart.
There will be a “you” shaped hole in our family now. Your older brothers were both so excited to meet you and Justin has spent many a night laying on my tummy so he can be close to you, whilst Kerr always gives my tummy a kiss when we say our goodbyes. You would have been cherished, and smothered with love – and fought over, I’m sure! As for us, well, we had our hopes and dreams for you, of course. Our lives would change a lot, but it would have all been for the better, without doubt. We have so much love to give and we could not wait to share some with you. It’s hard to imagine our future without you in it now.
Although I am devastated that I will never get to see your first step, or hear your first “I love you” or watch you grow old and mature and become the wonderful person I know you would have been, I am so so grateful for the precious months we had together. And as I believe that we choose our parents, I am so honoured that you chose me as your Mummy. It is this I will hold dear to my heart when it feels like it could break, and it’s this that will keep me striving on.
Some people say that you can not feel your baby move this early. But they’re wrong. I can, and I still do. At some point in the next 24 hours I will probably feel you move for the last time. I won’t know its the last time, which is why I cherish every little push and pull and tug that you give me today. A little reminder of the beautiful masterpiece that I have been lucky enough to have share my body and love, these past months.
Some may say your illness makes you deformed, or abnormal, or not even human. I disagree. You will always be perfection in my eyes. And in the eyes of what ever higher being that watches over us. From the moment I discovered you were growing inside of me, and until the day I die, I will love you more than you’ll ever know. Nothing could ever make me love you less.
I don’t know what lies out there for you, Ziggy. I don’t know where your path will take you. But I know your innocent soul will be greeted with welcoming arms by those loved ones who have passed. More recently your Great Grandad Ted grew his wings, perhaps so that he could be there to lead you into heaven. Whatever that may be.
We will plant a tree for you in our garden this week. The garden where you would have played and spent your days chasing butterflies – and your older brothers. The tree will grow as you should have, and its roots will bury deep down beneath the garden and the house, and us, your family. And as the flowers and fruits blossom, it will remind us of how you would have blossomed, and how we would have proudly admired the perfect human being you had grown into.
And in these final hours, I will focus on nothing but you and me, together for this last time. Although a big part of me will die with you, an even bigger part of you will live on in me. That gives me hope. And determination. To be truly grateful for everything I have, to never take anything for granted and to live like each day is my last… because we never know when the “last” may be.
Spread your wings my Angel. The time will come soon for you to fly away. But for now, just rest with me and let’s cherish these final hours, together… just me and you.