I recall you lying on your changing mat when you were a tiny baby
Those early months just you and me while Daddy was at work
Finding my feet with this miraculous little person
Who had grown inside me for nine months
I found I would sing ‘You are my sunshine’ to entertain you
It came so naturally to sing that song, it became ‘your song’
I know why now…
You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,
you make me happy, when skies were grey,
you’ll never know dear
how much I love you,
please don’t take my sunshine away….
You were my light and my joy, but now you’re gone
The light has dimmed.
I’ve not been blogging or networking much lately. I’ve been feeling run down, very low about Abi and generally snowed under with work and family life. I feel flat and pretty much overwhelmed as again we face more special occasions without our girl.
It’s particularly busy this weekend as it was my hubby’s 40th birthday yesterday and we are also having our children baptised… all three together … on Sunday. It should be a wonderful time of celebration and excitement, but when you’re living with loss, times like this turn into the bleakest of winter days.
Today, I turn 38. Thirty-eight years since I was born. It feels surreal. I don’t feel this age… in many ways still young, but equally old before my time. I question why I should be allowed to live this long and yet my child already be in heaven?
I’ve never been hugely into birthday celebrations, having a birthday at the end of the summer holidays was never ideal, and that’s even more the case now. It’s just another day, but I’m thankful for each day I have now.
My hubby gave me a beautiful emerald eternity ring for our wedding anniversary this year and that has doubled as a birthday gift too. To be honest, I don’t want anything. Possessions mean nothing.
THIS is all I want for my birthday.
My family back.
This photo was taken in 2011 on my birthday on holiday in Menorca. The children were sneaking around in the morning and then all jumped into my bed and gave me cards and balloons. It was so memorable. So special.
This is my second birthday without Abi. Now, instead of the joyful wake up, I’m perpetually reminded of the loss of her. That my tired lips don’t get her fleeting kisses in the morning anymore; she always woke me with a kiss.
Now, I’m visiting her memorial, leaving HER flowers…
…with a new baby who seems to know so much already. He looks on at Abi’s place with such peace and wisdom. He knows too.
It’s a horrible day, an emotionally stressful time of year that I’d like to get through as quickly and with as little fuss as possible. I’m sorry darling, I know it’s not what you’d like, but my heart won’t ever stop breaking for the loss of you.
This guest post was written by my friend Sarah, whose son was in the same school and year as Abi. As her son turned 13 this weekend, Sarah reflects in this moving and inspiring post on what it is to be forever 12.When my eldest reached the milestone of his teenage years last week, it was a chance for me to reflect – on his life so far and on his life still to come – his journey through GCSEs, A Levels and girlfriends to adulthood. But it was also a chance for me to reflect on my friend Kelly, who blogs at Chasing Dragonflies, and her daughter Abi.