Tag Archives: grief

melody and me

Melody and Me. Holding On For Dear Life.

The countdown to Melody’s birthday.

February 7th 2012 23+1


I began to feel slightly headache-y, which wasn’t disappearing with paracetamol, accompanied with some blurry vision I just didn’t feel right. So to be on the safe side I booked myself in to see the midwife, due to my history of Pre-eclampsia when I’d had my daughter, I was aware of the symptoms, I kind of knew it was too early but I just wanted to be safe and get checked out…
(Excerpt from Mayflower’s Rainbow)

On This Day

On this day in 2012, something wasn’t right. But having clear test results days later, I knew at that moment I could breathe a sigh of relief. A false alarm, it was far too early to have this.
Counting down the days until her birthday.
Keeping myself busy; too busy to think too much.
Too busy to remember that, I really should be shopping for something for her birthday.
I don’t even know what she would have liked.
Of course, I am told not to dwell on this, not to think about this too much.
Why shouldn’t I?
I have no idea what her favourite obsession would have been?
Would she have been a Tom Boy?
I am allowed to wonder.


I remember watching a video about skin to skin and kangaroo care, a beautiful thing to watch.
Then I am hit as if I’d been punched in my stomach, a glimpse of the poorly, premature babies.
The wave of new pain arrived again.
We weren’t allowed to have skin to skin often, we had it, don’t get me wrong.
Given the importance of kangaroo care, it was never enough.
It hurt, so much.
These precious babies being cuddled better.
I do sometimes wonder whether had we been phoned sooner, could I have cuddled her better?
A fairy tale dream perhaps.
Always felt like she never belonged to us.
Whatever is out there, will never be enough.

Melody and Me

23 Days old, we get to have skin to skin.
Tucked into my bra, she was tiny, warm and happy.
Albeit wet from a teary shower.
The power of skin to skin is amazing.
I wish we’d had more.


Working on a project involving Melody, something I needed to do.
Feeling incredibly honoured to be asked for an input, I knew I could do it, just words, reflection.
Talking about Melody.
Felt wonderful getting it down again, bringing her memory to the forefront of my mind.
The neonatal doors were closed; there was a privacy board around a cot. We walked in, attempted to walk to where our little girl had been the day before when we realise that the cot behind the privacy board was indeed our daughter. She’d been moved to ITU overnight.
A doctor came to us and told us that she wouldn’t survive… 
Floored for a moment. Wondering why I did this to myself.
But I’m not *really* doing this to myself, this is me, us. Our story.
Could feel the tears coming, it isn’t torture, it hurts.
But why wouldn’t it?
Our baby died.
I am trying to be busy, to be strong.
To be brave.
But I really am holding on for dear life…
then you were two

Then She Was Two

Today is the day you should have been two.
The day you should be ripping paper almost eager to know what’s inside..
Today is the day you were meant to turn two.
The day you could have been stamping your feet,
while needing to wait to try your new ride.
Today is the day you would have been two.
The day to jump around in welly boots,
Play hide and seek and eat chocolate mousse.
Today is the day that you won’t be turning two.
Your missing laughter, the silence that replaces you.
Today is the day we’re left wishing that you were two.
Still wondering, still holding on to memories so tight.
This time two years ago you came rushing into the world,
you were our Rainbow Baby our light at the end of the tunnel.
Our little Miss fidgety pants.
Today we not lighting candles for you to blow out,
we’re lighting them as a memory.
Today we are giving you flowers,
instead of toys…I can’t imagine ever giving a two-year old flowers as a present,
they would be disappointed. So why are we left to do this?
Today we have to try to not cry,to try to focus that we were “lucky” to have had you for the 5 weeks we were blessed with.
It may well be two years sweetheart,
but this year is harder than the first.
Last year I could say “I met you last year”
Now I can’t even remember your smell,
how soft your hair was,
or imagine how tiny your little nose was.
 I don’t even know what colour eyes you would have had. Your baby sister’s eyes are hazel.
Time hasn’t healed, it’s only taken you further away.
I can wish as hard as I possibly could, yet it would never come true.
I hope that if heaven is real to you that you’re having a wonderful party with your friends, flying high.
We may have only had you for 35 days, but we do miss you.
Happy Birthday Darling
Love always
Today is the day you turn two.
Mummy and Daddy