For 273 days equivalent to 6,552 hours, 393,120 minutes and 23,587,200 seconds I carried you in my womb. It sounds like a lot when you calculate in hours, in minutes and in seconds but when you say you have only been with me for a mere 273 days it sounds so little. I loved you so much when you were inside of me, and I had dreams and hopes and all sorts of things planned for our little future. But that all came crashing down one grey September day. I carried you for 9 months, but you have been away for 10 months that is 304 days away from me, 86 weekend days away from me, 43 weeks away from, 7,272 hours, 436,320 minutes and 26,179,200 seconds that we are apart. Now you have been in heaven for 720 hours longer then you were in my belly, safer then when you were in my belly. But is it right to measure time in this cruel awful, cold fashion? Is it even relevant? Regardless for 26,179,200 seconds I have been missing you, basically everyday of your precious life since you left me and I had to carry on this dirt road by myself.
For 23,587,200 seconds I was waiting in eager anticipation for your arrival. Making your blanket, it was so colourful, I was preparing your bed, and I was looking for clothes to cloth you with. I was planning the best Christmas gift for my parents with a photo of you for it only to come crashing down on me. For 6,552 hours I planned and protected you, I carried you. I loved you; I still love you every second of every day. But life has moved forward, time did not stand still like I had hoped. Time has elapsed and I have wandered the old rugged back of earth.
304 days ago I did not imagine that life would get better, that I would be able to smile again, that I would be able to laugh again. Of course there are days when I still find laughing and smiling painful but I can smile and laugh. I was afraid that after you died that my life would come crashing down on me too. I nearly died in the process of giving birth to you, but when I saw my mother’s face and the anguish and tears that were pouring out of her face I knew I had to fight for life. I knew that i could not give up on life without giving it a good fight, even if everything else in my body was screaming no. I cannot bear this. I do not want to live. I want to disappear into thin air, like you did. It felt that way. It felt like you disappeared into thin air, and there was nothing more that could have been done. Sometimes I wonder if I had given birth to you in England would you have had a chance of survival. Would they have taken you out sooner? Oh, how I wish things were so very different. I try not to think of the ‘what if’s’. It only brings more agony to me. And more sadness, and sometimes it raise a lot of anger inside of me, that rages like a wild fire across the desert plains.
Life for me now: I have been away from the UK for 12 months now, and you have been away from me for 10 months. I have learnt not to expect anything in life anymore, because everything changes. Everything becomes different. I have learnt that I cannot trust God in the circumstances. But that I have to trust God at all times; that I have to put my complete trust in him rather than relying on my own strength to keep fighting. I have to learn not to rely on my own strength, and to let others help me, and let others come into my life. For that I would have to knock down a few high tall walls that are surrounding me into a protective bubble. I am afraid of letting people to close, I am afraid of letting people come near me because I don’t want to get hurt again. I don’t want to experience this intense rainfall on my heart again. I am so afraid that if I let anyone close that I will get hurt and that they will hurt me and use my past experiences against me.
When you died Sebastian, I lost my confidence. I lost my hope. I lost the colour in my life (or so I thought) some days I start to see the colour again, other days I do not see the colour. Other days it’s just bleak and dark, and messy. My panic attacks increased 10 fold after you died, I am unsure of myself, like any decision that I make rocks my world in a painful fashion. However, slowly it has gotten better. Slowly it has improved.
Time in the first year is not supposed to be relevant but somehow it is. Somehow every month a reminder is sent of how many days you have been away from me. First year is always with all the firsts and with that comes a silent acceptance of what has been and what is not to be. You are gone. And I am here. I am thankful that I am reminded of your presence and of the legacy you left behind for me to carry on in honour of you. To my dear sweet little Sebastian thank you for being my son. I love you my sweet baby boy and I miss you very much. You are in my heart, but mommy is moving forward slowly bit by bit. Step by step into the future, and holding you forever dear in her heart.
Time does not stop. Time moves forward, and with that you can take your memories with you. You can cry, and God will collect your tears in a bottle. It doesn’t matter how many times you cry God is with you every step of the way holding you when you cry, when you shout at him, God is gently holding you in his arms as he comforts you, as he gives you the freedom you need in Christ to be able to continue. I thank God for the people that he has put in my life to help me to carry forth my cross. To help me see that there is a future not necessarily a better future waiting out there for me, but that there is a future and that there is a hope so sure. God carries you. God gives you the freedom if you choose to hold onto him, and choose to walk the righteous path. I am thankful. I am very thankful to our Lord and Saviour for giving me life, and for giving me a hope so sure. Here I come onto new endeavors!