Seven Years Today

Seven years today we knew your heart had stopped beating.

Seven years today only family and close friends knew our pain.

Seven years today we had stopped so many people in their tracks.

Seven years today we laid in bed and our phones silently pinged away. Messages of we are here. Look after yourselves. Sending our love. Anything we can do? Are you sleeping? What do you need?

Seven years ago today we were packing bags to go to hospital, and packing bags for BB to go to nursery.

Seven years today we didn’t know where we were going and what we were doing from one moment to another.

Seven years today we were numb, and thought we had cried every tear possible for you.

Seven years today I still had to give birth to you.

Seven years today we had to discuss if we would hold you, keep you with us, and try to get to a place where we both could be.

Seven years today we didn’t know how long this labour would take, how many hours or days we would be away from BB. We didn’t know anything.

Seven years today we were trying to work out what size you may be, what clothes you may fit in, what would we dress you in.

Seven years today I went on a frantic hunt for your brother’s baby blanket, for my baby blanket, because you had to have something that we all had held, that we all had loved and hugged and smelt and cuddled.

Seven years today that was so important.

Seven years today we were searching for a camera and batteries to make sure we took enough photos to last a lifetime. Because it was so important and we had to fit every moment into the pictures to keep them forever.

Seven years today we didn’t sleep.

Seven years today I hugged my pregnant belly so tight for the last time, even knowing the truth but willing it to be wrong. It was never wrong.

Seven years today our hearts were broken, but we had no clue that within a few hours they would be shattered beyond repair.

Seven years today our lives changed forever.