I was struck in traffic tonight and, just for a moment, became quite teary. This time of year always reminds me of finding out I was pregnant with my third child, Jamie. There is something about the dark nights and lines of cars which remind me of school runs, feeling sick, hating the fumes and so much happiness. He was a very wanted baby and there was so much hope for the chaos that was to come with having three children.
There is so much to losing a baby – it’s not just physically losing that child, it is the space that child leaves in your life forever.
Ten years on I am still missing the chaos – although my 2 girls and their friends still provide plenty – and I am missing the child, not the baby. I have one less child to nag at about bedrooms and mess, I have one less lot of homework to do, one less lot of school uniform and sports kit to wash. I constantly see where he is missing in our house – whether winding up or cuddling us and his sisters – and I see the gap in their lives, they will forever not have their brother.
They are all reminders of the life that is lost.
And I write this, not for sympathy, but to remember my boy, to acknowledge the space in our lives where he should be and to acknowledge all the other grieving parents out there who struggle with the little details each damn day.