To commemorate my boys’ birthday the other week, I asked my friends and family to write something about how my boys had impacted upon their lives. The results were interesting. I had some truly lovely messages, but then some people who I thought cared the most didn’t even bother. I suppose they didn’t know what to say, I don’t begrudge them for that, but it was a little saddening. (status from my personal Facebook; 29/1/2016)
This was one of my favourites, from a fellow babyloss mumma who I’m quite close to:
Your boys have made a huge impact on my life that’s for sure.
When I look at their pictures, all I see is pure beauty. The most beautiful boys.
They have such a special part in my heart. I thank them for bringing me and you together. And I forever have a friend who no matter what understands what I feel. I love to think Andrew and Eric found my little Beau and together they get up to naughty things like 2 year Olds should.
Your boys are so very lucky to have been born into a family full of love. Parents who will always make their memory live on and still talk about them like they were here. Because they are here, they will never leave you.
My other two favourites came from surprising sources, people whom I don’t often speak to. Here’s one:
…I’ll say that despite never meeting your boys in the physical world, I feel as though I’ve made contact with them through what you’ve shared. Your eloquent expressions have painted them into the lives of others, teaching lessons of compassion and kindness, and of love and gentle heartedness, all through the beautiful woman who is their mother – the heart they touch the most.
So, I’d like to say that, even though I’ve never had the privilege of shaking their hands or ruffling their hair, I met your sons through your love for them, and I’d like to wish them, and the rest of your family, every happiness.
And the other:
I take a big deep breath as I write this to you. I remember where I was, I remember how hard I’d prayed, I remember I felt like a failure, like I hadn’t prayed hard enough when I found out your sons were heaven bound. I cried and wailed, not because I knew you well, because I didn’t, but because my mothers heart went out to you. The birth and death of your sons ignited something in my heart. I didn’t want you to feel alone so I rang, I just wanted you to know that I cared. I cared you had lost so deeply. I still cry today over it and that’s not something I always do. Something about the loss of your boys helped me to dig deeper within myself to treasure every moment. To be grateful for everything. I was so excited when I saw you with Charlotte, knowing full well it wouldn’t fix anything but that you had a precious baby to mother and love. I’m sorry you didn’t get that opportunity with your boys. You are a beautiful mum.
To know that my sons have had even the tiniest impact on other peoples’ lives, especially the lives of those whom I don’t even know particularly well, is such a comfort.
Their lives were short, but they meant something, and not just to me.