My Heart, Your Home: An angel turns three   

Sunday, 17 February 2013

An angel turns three

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My Sister lost her son. He was born sleeping. Left this world before he got to enter this world. It was heart breaking and gut wrenching. One of the most emotionally traumatic moments of my life, of her life. To watch someone I love with such intensity, to watch someone I have admired and looked up to my entire life, go through something so unbelievably painful was unexplainable. It continues to be unexplainable, incomprehensible. 

There has not been a single day that I have been able to offer any sense of advice or support or empathy that made any sense to me, or to her. All I have been able to do is sit and listen, nod my head and offer my hand, my shoulder and my tears. All I will ever be able to do is listen. Because this type of pain, this kind of loss, just does not make any sense. We can not begin to understand the loss of an unborn child. My Nephew, Tyson James, was 37 weeks young. He wasn't given a chance to take his first breath outside of the womb. He never left the warm embrace of my Sister's body. He was created and then he was taken, only ever knowing the sound of his Mummy's heart and only ever knowing the warmth of her home. 

Tyson was born sleeping three years ago. I often find myself thinking about him, playing in amongst the clouds. Chasing a football, just like his Daddy. Watching over his family and sending butterflies kisses down. With the heart and strength of his Mummy and the kindness and gentleness of his Daddy, the smarts of his Sister and the adventure of his Brother. A perfect little angel, given to them to protect them, to love them and to remind them of how precious life is and how beautiful their love is.

I will never be able to understand the feelings my Sister feels. The thoughts she has. The hurt she feels. I will never be able to take it away for her. I will never be able to help her feel better. I will never be able to help. No matter how much I want to or how hard I try, this is something that only she can know. A loss that is inexplicable. 

Today, as I sat in Jelly's nursery, I thought about my Sister. I thought about how it feels to be full term pregnant. The excitement. The anticipation. The uncertainty. Today as I prepared my babies room I thought about the possibility of this baby not arriving safely. I sat on the floor of my babies nursery and I cried. I cried for the loss of my Sisters baby boy. I cried for the pain that she has experienced. I cried for the heart ache. As I sat there and cried, for just one brief moment, I had the slightest inclining of an understanding and then my heart broke for her. Since having my own child, Evelyn, it has become more real. To know what you can lose when you lose a child in this way. For just a small moment, I thought about what she lost, what I could lose, and my heart weeped. It weeped for my Nephew, for my Sister, for their loss. For the loss of all stillborn babies. It weeped in fear of this happening again. To me. To any woman.

A pain like this is a pain no one should ever know, especially not my Sister. I wish I could make it better. I wish I could understand how this happens. I wish I could make it stop. I wish for no woman to ever know this pain. But they do and all we can do is offer our hands.

Let them know we are here, we love them and that we will never forget.
I will never forget you Tyson James... Happy Birthday, my sweet baby nephew xx

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