LetterstoLaila

  Monday   February 2024 Monday will always be the day I gave birth to you. It will be the day we met you. But we didn’t take you home with us and we never saw your smile.    You were brought to us, in a little basket, wrapped beautifully in two blankets: the one I finished early for you and one donated to the hospita l for babies like you. Giving birth to you was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Giving birth to your sister wasn’t easy, but giving birth to you hurt me so much more. You arrived at 3:30 in the morning. I was holding your daddy’s hand and being looked after by a lovely woman called Alison. She told me I was brave. Your daddy told me he was proud of me. It was so hard for me, knowing that I had to stop growing you. I didn’t feel brave or strong. I wish I could have kept you growing in me.    When we met you later that day, I’d had some sleep and a shower. I put on your daddy’s favourite dress. I wanted to look nice to meet ...

 Saturday Saturday   February 2024 Nothing significant happened on this day. The first Saturday we were just in waiting mode. We were waiting to speak to the specialists in Bristol. We decided to try to have a “normal” weekend, whatever that meant. Your sister spent some time with Nana, and mummy and daddy tried to distract themselves with other things. We seemed to be in a suspended reality: nothing felt normal, but we weren’t ready to settle into something really being wrong. I had a sinking feeling in my stomach all weekend, yet every time you kicked me, I wondered if it was all just a strange dream. Nothing felt real.    The following Saturday, it very much felt real. We were still in a weird state of being: playing a different kind of waiting game. The day before, I had taken a pill to end my pregnancy. Today I was carrying you, knowing I would feel your kicks for the last time tonight.    Again, we tried to have a “normal” day. We tried to keep th...

 Thursday February 2024 Thursday will always be the day that it all came crashing down around us. The appointment was at 12:30 and I had a lot to do that morning but nothing went to plan. I was anxious. Your sister was poorly. Preschool rang me and I spent time trying to make sure she was ok and organise a GP appointment for after our scan. I didn’t know how bad our own appointment would be and how much it would affect the rest of the day and the rest of our lives.    We sat in the waiting room, with the fish tank. I was replying to work emails on my phone, your daddy was replying to work emails on his laptop. We both kept ourselves busy. I was excited about seeing you again, getting another photo and having a specialist tell us that everything would be ok. I didn’t expect her to tell us that everything wasn’t ok and would doubtfully ever be. She spent a bit of time looking at your other organs before she looked at your heart and she gave nothing away. I laid there looki...