LetterstoLaila

Tuesday   F ebruary 2024 There were two Tuesdays that were significant to you.    There was the day we drove to Bristol to get the answers to the many questions we had and there was the day we were discharged from the hospital, without you.    I am sorry baby girl, but we weren’t thinking “positive” thoughts, or hoping for miracles that day. I think deep down we already knew what the answers would be, but we were told to go there and find out what the experts would say, so we did. They were the specialists who could confirm what they weren’t able to tell us in Exeter. They would tell us exactly how poorly your heart was and what they could do for you. We’d waited 5 long days for this appointment. 5 days in a suspended reality, not able to relax, to plan or to live. We were just waiting. We didn’t feel any better after that appointment. It was worse.    I remember feeling so sick on the drive. I sat in the passenger seat, reading up on the anatomy...

 Sunday February 2024 This is a really tough day for me. It will always be the day I went into hospital to give birth to you, but not to say hello.    Time went both slowly and fast that morning. We had a lazy morning, hanging out with your sister. Neither of us wanted the day to start: we both wanted to press pause. I wished I could stop time and make it not happen, but I couldn’t . There are so many powers we wish we had as parents: we can’t stop time, we can’t see the future, we can’t change the past. We can only deal with now and do the kindest thing we can to cause our children the least amount of pain possible.    Parts of that day will be tattooed into my mind for the rest of my life, yet parts are so fuzzy now, only a few weeks later. I remember trying to pack a bag and not knowing what I was packing for. It wasn’t like the labour I had last time: I didn’t need any clothes for a new baby. I didn’t know how long I would be in hospital for. I did...

Friday  February 2024  Friday will always be the day I stopped growing you. It was the day I signed a consent form to stop my pregnancy and the day that the end of growing you officially began.    A week before that, it was the longest morning of my life. I was irritated and anxious, with my phone in my hand all morning, waiting for the call from Bristol. I couldn’t concentrate on your sister. I felt like a terrible mother: in worrying so much about you, I wasn’t paying any attention her. I waited all morning, feeling sick. I called the hospital, I emailed the consultant and I heard nothing until 2pm. Fortunately your daddy was home from work by then and that was the first time I had cried. The relief that we had an appointment mixed with the sadness that we had an appointment made it all so so real. And we had to wait 5 more days. 5 agonising days, not knowing what would happen to you, or to us. 5 days of thinking through scenarios and not knowing the answers. 5...