Something I wrote hours after my son’s death and birth in September 2014. So much anguish. So much raw emotions. A scary place to be in.
A myriad of emotion has plagued me. I wonder how long this will last? I would rather die, than exist at the moment, truthfully speaking. I want my precious baby son back. What I do know is I do not want to keep living this nightmare. This nightmare is too painful. Every morning I wake up and I hope that this is all a terrible nightmare, and that my son is still yet to be born and that my stomach still displays a big proud baby bump, but it is not the case. Instead, I have to face the day I have never in my worst imagination thought that something like this would happen to me of all people. Today, I am filled with an enormous amount of anger. The anger that is ready to burst open with tears. The tears that I am trying to suppress, so, that my little sister does not have to witness the clear anguish on my face. I would rather lick my wounds in private. I do not want to be in my family home. I want to be alone, somewhere in a dark room, and cry, and scream, and shout, and ask what I have done wrong. Why was my son taken away so quickly from me?
I want to hold my son and see him and touch him, and nourish him. But they would not let me. It goes against the rules here. I just want to hold him so that I can say goodbye properly. My mum says I should not dwell on it and just accept the rules as it is in this country. Maybe one day when I feel strong enough I will change this rule here in Slovakia, and try and get legalisation of the baby getting a birth certificate instead of just a death certificate. After all, we as mothers do go through the labours of bringing our child to the world, same as any mother with a baby that is alive and kicking. Why should we the mothers of still births be denied the right of having a birth certificate? I want my son to know that I love him.
I wonder if they are treating his little body with respect as they conduct tests on him. Does he have clothes on? I hope he has clothes on, so that he is not lying there all cold and naked in the dark morgue. I want to be able to hold him, and protect him. But I am here, and he’s in a morgue. His soul is already with Jesus. Sebastian David has impacted my life so much, even though he was only lent to me for a short 9 months. Not long enough I think. I imagined we would have a life time together. I thought we would be counting the stars under the night sky, going to ball games, playing sports together, going on adventures, having laughter. I imagined he’d coming running into my arms and I would crush him with my love but it is not meant to be.
Losing a baby is hard for any family, but when you are a single parent, I think it becomes that little bit harder. You have no-one you can lean on or that will understand you. You are grieving intensely whilst everyone just watches as you grief. I don’t want to grief in front of my parents. They don’t understand what it is like to lose a baby, to have to go through the labour pains and push your dead son into the world. And then you get denied seeing your son because this is Slovakia. Hello we are in the year 2014 why can I not make that personal decision of seeing my son after all I carried him for 9 months in my womb only to be robbed of him so quickly. It is quicker than a flash of lightening that could strike you at any time.
Still births are not as rare as people think. It happens, I think we would need to make people more aware that still births do happen, and that there is a 0.5% chance that it will happen to you. That is a small chance. I have become part of that statistic. The mother who went home empty handed, no crying baby, no nappy changing to look forward to, no late night feeds, just a disturbing silence that should not have been there. It is an evil thing still births, it is something you do not anticipate. It is like the devil waiting to snatch away what was supposed to be your bundle of joy which suddenly turns into your bundle of grief. Maybe one day, when I feel strong enough and I will be able to see through the blur of my tears which are forever ready to explode to the surface will I be able to carry forth your legacy my dearest Sebastian David. Your mama loved you more than life itself and still does and will till my dying breath. I long to feel you kick again; I long to feel you squirm around in my womb, except my womb is glaringly empty. Your loss cannot be replaced by another child. You will always be a part of me; you shared my body for 9 months. And now you’re gone home sitting with Jesus as he weeps with me. I do not want to go on no more. I can’t do it anymore