Category Archives: Melody

baby loss, grief

Another New Year

New Year
Another year ticking over since I last held her, smelt her, kissed her. 
Coming up 5 years since.  Five seems such a large number.  So significant. So far away. 
At times it all feels like a dream,  that she was never here, not real. 
This Christmas was the first we didn’t visit over Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. Besides being poorly,  not visiting her was actually a really difficult decision.  This year I felt unbelievably torn.  Between the love, the lives of the children who are with me and her. 
The thought of the cold and the rain, standing there blowing kisses to the air. 
Leaving her behind in the cold and the rain pains me every single time. 
That is where she is, cold in the open air.  Alone and away from her family.
This year I couldn’t face the trip.
Another guilty feeling in this shitty situation. 
It’s been almost 5 years, I’ve had enough now. What ever bad shit I have done, I’ve paid. I want her home, to complete the family we had planned.
I’m done. 
Five years of trying to keep her memory alive.
Five years of family and friends turning their backs on us.
Five years of justifying why she still mention her. 
She may have only been here 5 weeks, 35 days. But she is still our daughter.  She never had the chance to become the woman she could have been.  No celebrity status, no chance at life, just a hope taken. 
This year as we tick over into 2017, I feel confused, hurt I guess, almost raw again.
This time five years ago I was pregnant and looking forward to the following Christmas, her first. 
Why can’t I just get over her?
Because I don’t want to. 
baby loss, grief

We had a visitor..

Short, but exciting one from me this evening.
I’d told my children we were expecting a visitor, but I didn’t tell them who this visitor would be lots of guessing, although my son hit the spot at one point, I slyly avoided his questions.
With just over a month to go, we had a form of seasonal celebrity pop in to see the children. And what a lovely experience it was too.
The children’s faces lit up when he arrived,
Well, the older two loved him. Our three year old hated him, and the one year old really was not sure in the slightest.
My son even gave him a tune.
Now, this blog isn’t the place I normally speak too much about Melody’s siblings, but there is a reason.
Our magical experience, has been thanks to local charity Towards Tomorrow Together; where they provide Santa home visits to children who have lost a sibling, along with everything else they provide throughout the year.
Giving the children some well deserved magic, whilst us as parents watch with such Joy the smiling faces the Santa has caused.
It is such a wonderful thing they offer, and I am so pleased that we gave it ago.
They all each received gifts, a candle making kit, a mini skate board set, inflatable Olafs a book and a stuffed squid (not real!)
He certainly has put me in the Christmas visit, I hope all his other visits are as successful.
Thank you .
Christmas is always a bittersweet time for us.
But it was one of my promises to Melody,
which was to make Christmas as magical for the children as I can.
Sitting on a bench for an hour

Sitting On A Bench.


Bench Thoughts

If I were to sit on a bench with you. At the age, you should be. I would feel so incredibly lucky.
I’d ask you about your day. What your favourite thing to do would be?
Have you got a scent that makes you warm and fuzzy?
We’d lay a blanket in front of the bench on the floor, lay ourselves upon our backs, watch the clouds form shapes. A sheep, a dinosaur¬†or a candy floss tree.

I’d look into your blue eyes if that were so. Or gaze into your brown eyes, that I’ll never know. I wish I knew what colour your eyes would have been.
We’d have a jam sandwich, and you’d eat quavers, just like your dad.
You’d tell me you love to hear your siblings, how they make you smile, just as hey did when you were here. I wish I could see that smile again.
We’d talk about anything that’s troubling you, and your excitement about your new school.
We’d look out over to the sea. Wave to the far away ferries, in case they could see us and were waving too.

Time Moves Quickly

I’d close my eyes for a moment, and take in our togetherness.
I would be able to sense you fidgeting, after all, you shouldn’t have to sit still. With my eyes still closed, I would take your hand, knowing I wouldn’t be able to let go.
The sudden volume change of the crashing waves, the noise of the seagulls, circling overhead in the hope for a crumb or two.

I know the time is ticking, that it is moving fast, I don’t have long; so I ask you to stay. Please stay, just for one more hour. As I turn my¬†head, hold my empty hands out in front of me the realisation hits, the silence which replaces you next to me.
You’re gone.
The hour is over.
Of course, it’ll never be enough.

One Last Breath.