8 months since the best and worst day of our lives. 8 months since we arrived at the hospital, me having contractions full of joy and excitement. 8 months since we witnessed the shock and devastation on the faces of the wonderful medical team who tried so hard to save you. 8 months since you were born and then you died. There are lots of things about that day that I will never forget, like the look on the doctor’s face when he told us that you were gone – but there are also lots of things about that day I never ever want to forget.
We held you, we spent time with you, we told you how much you are loved. Our brains were a scrambled mess that day and we will always feel we didn’t take it in and soak up every moment like we wanted to. I will never forget your weight in my arms and your soft warm cheeks. I will never forget my surprise at your thick blonde hair, or your tiny little ears and perfect hands. I will never forget looking at you in awe and wondering how after making my body your home for 9 months you could look so much like your dad. Or how a baby could be so cute and perfect but also look so much like a 34 year old man who is their dad. You just look sooooo much like your dad! Then I saw your feet – we have the prints, long slim feet like guess who – your dad! Your smell, kissing your forehead, your cute nose and long limbs – I will never ever forget.
I will never comprehend how your heart stopped and ours continue to beat. I remember sitting helplessly watching the attempts to save you and thinking that if they couldn’t save you – I would swap places with you – I would do that every day since. I am not sure how we have clawed our way through 8 months without you physically here, but I also know it is because you were here that we have got through. You are our first thought when we wake up and our last at night – the truth is we are never not thinking of you – we will never not think of you. Quite a few people in our lives now understand that hearing your name doesn’t cause us pain it brings us joy, to know that they are thinking about you too touches our hearts and makes us feel less alone.
You are the little boy who made us parents. The little boy who showed us what perfection is. The little boy who continues to inspire us and so many others every day.
Once someone asked me whether if I could go back to the day I found out I was pregnant if I would do it all again, or if I would hope that I got pregnant another time with another baby. I couldn’t answer at the time. I can answer now. I would do it all again to have met you. The pain of saying goodbye to you and not seeing you grow is immeasurable but it doesn’t outweigh the great privilege and joy of ever having met you.
In the 8 months up until your arrival I grew you, your dad built an extension, we both worked, I did a masters degree, we spent time with friends and family, we decorated your awesome room and prepared meticulously for your arrival. We were busy and joyful. In the 8 months since your passing we have clung on to life by a thread while it has passed in a blur. To others you died 8 months ago, to us you died yesterday. To us, you will always have died yesterday.
We keep breathing and keep living for you – to stay true to our promises we made to you in our letter at your funeral. It is tough right now little Lenny lad – we have also had to say goodbye to your little brother, Bhai. Please take good care of him. Our only tiny comfort in this cruel world is that you might be together – I hope you are building bike ramps together (we know it is customary for the older sibling to encourage the younger sibling to ‘test’ them but you be gentle with him).
We will take you on adventures in our (broken) hearts always, we love you more than our words could ever express,
Your mum and dad xxx