She was brave and strong talking about the day you were born and all our time at the neonatal unit. This was our happiest time. This was our hopeful time. This was when we believed that we would bring you home, we would be a family at last, we would have precious time with you on your own. We were able to tolerate your treatments, because at this hospital they were all to make you better. They were to make you comfortable so you could develop and grow. They were to help you to become strong enough to get home.
Mummy spoke about all of your visitors, there are some photographs of some of them. Mummy wishes she had remembered to take everyone's picture when they visited you. Mummy was going to make a book of all those photographs so you could learn about your family, and learn all their names. Mummy had big ideas at this hospital about how to help you develop in time, ideas to help you communicate and speak. Mummy would play with you and watch you trying to lift up your head when you were on your tummy, the doctors were amazed by this because you were so premature. You wanted to feed even though you didn't have the swallow/breath reflex working well. You chatted to us, and you taught us your facial expressions - you were expressive from the day you were born Haydon. You were a determined little man. Mummy loved every second with you, but wanted the neonatal part to rush past, because we wanted you all to ourselves. We wish now that you could have been in there longer, they maybe would have seen some of your problems earlier, they would have been so gentle and attentive to you because that is how they were with babies. Mummy and Daddy felt safe here. We trusted these nurses and doctors.
You tried so hard bubba. And so did we.
It happened. You were home for one precious week. A speck of dust in a lifetime to some people, but this is our whole world's treasure, and we will keep every second safe. We can't lose those. Carrying you into our home that day, I told Granny that I felt like I had stolen you. But you were ours. You belonged with us. I will hold onto every single memory of you here. I will think quietly of our time here. Those precious moments with Daddy, remembering him gently caring for you. Remembering everything about you, I won't share all of these memories Haydon, because we have so few happy times to remember. These are so precious. I have them all wrapped up in cotton wool and ribbon in my brain. Those memories will be ours together, I can't share everything about those moments with the world, because to talk about them all might make some of them diluted. We don't want to dilute that happiness. We need this happiness to pull us through the darkest hours. You were our happiness. You were our treasure. You made us happy. You blessed us.
You were content. We were content.
Then Mummy looked at the photographs from the Sick Kids. This was where she fell apart. All of those emotions and all the anger bubbles up. Mummy felt that gush of frustration. Mummy felt the scream in her throat. They didn't help you. They said they didn't know how to. They made you suffer. They gave us horrific memories. They weren't gentle, or compassionate. We didn't trust them. They gave us false hope. They have given Mummy and Daddy memories that they can't share because they were so bad. They had you on the worst rollercoaster, they watched and waited. They gave Mummy and Daddy images that we don't want. Memories we don't want to remember. They gave Mummy nightmares that she will play over forever in her mind, in her dreams, in her thoughts. Mummy will never forgive them. It is not just grief, although anger and blame are emotions in grief, the time you had there in that hospital Haydon, grief is not what makes us upset and scream out about this time. Your experiences are what make us break, make us cry, make us sorry that you had to suffer so much, make us wonder why they didn't do more.
Mummy struggled with this part in your photographs. Mummy cries that there are 5 weeks or more of photographs missing. But Mummy and Daddy didn't want those memories captured in photographs bubba. We stopped taking your picture because your days were cruel. I'm sorry bubba xxxx
You were tired. We were tired.
Then we got to the photographs about Yorkhill. This was a different world. This world cared. Your journey was hellish, a nightmare, but they were gentle. They were kind. They thought about Mummy and Daddy's feelings. They were compassionate and considerate. This part of your journey should be our worst part because we were losing you. But those people made it gentler somehow. They soothed us on the hard days. They held Mummy when she cried out. They helped her up when she fell down broken on the floor. All those days on our own bubba while Daddy was working were hard, but they helped us. They were kind. They gave you a teaspoonful of milk each hour, to make Mummy feel better and cope. The worst part in our journey together is losing you, without doubt or hesitation. And the aftermath of losing you is rough, a struggle and depth that is beyond people's imaginations. But they cushioned the blow. They tried their hardest to help you. They wanted you better, they just couldn't. But they tried. They cried too when you left us.
You were broken then. We are broken now.
We miss you.
We love you.
We want you, we don't want memories only.
We want to see you smile.
We want to feel you wriggle.
We want to hear you laugh.
We want to see you.
We want to hold you tight, we hurt for this.
We want to introduce you to the world.
We want to feel your hands exploring our face, pulling our hair.
We want to smell the most beautiful smell. The smell of you.
We want to hear you babble.
We miss you.
We will miss you forever.
Mummy and Daddy love you bubba xxxx We just do xxxxx
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