I close my eyes and there I am, holding him. We are in the same hospital room, in the same bed, the same clothes but we are not the same people. I close my eyes and I have to go back 8 months to even be in the same place with him. Everything I have or even think about is just a memory that is getting further and further away.
When I open my eyes I am here, not holding him. We are in a different home, different bed, different clothes and we are new people. When I open my eyes he is now in a box on my shelf, his cot is gone, his pram still unused and I’m pregnant with his brother. This is just 8 months difference.
I wish I had a remote control to go back to him. I would pause time and take his smell in a little more, I would hold him tighter and I would never press play again.
This week has shown me many things have changed since Dexy. It has shown me how far we still need to come for people to treat our babies the same as living babies. It has shown me that I’m really not ready to face a world just yet where people don’t know Dexy has died, they don’t know his name and they don’t talk about him. Everyone I see or speak to on a daily basis we talk about Dexy like any other baby. I don’t think there has been a single day where I haven’t had a general conversation without Dexy involved since he died. This week that completely changed. I can’t go into too much detail because of rules but I entered a world where people didn’t know Dexy died. I was asked how old he was now, how is he doing and do I have any photos. He was referred to as a situation rather than a baby and people didn’t feel comfortable with even the thought of him. I’ve been so lost in my world of social media and my blog that I completely forgot that there is a real world and I just don’t fit in there. I was told that next time it will be different when I am a mum. It dawned on me. You aren’t a mum in real life if you can’t prove it. If you don’t have a breathing baby at home and up to date photos you are not a mum. This is because baby loss is still a taboo. How come I can talk to people about their mothers and fathers dying but I can’t even breathe the word stillborn?
I won’t lie it has knocked me back. People were more concerned about asking how this baby is, am I having a boy or girl rather than asking my son’s name. To be fair I didn’t really know anything about this baby until I had my 20 week scan yesterday. So what could I tell them? Oh yeah this baby is well, it likes making me chuck my guts up and its favourite food this week is jam sandwiches. But what can I tell you about Dexy? He had blonde eyebrows and dark brown curly hair. He used to love any music by Justin Bieber and Lady Gaga. Bath time was his favourite and he would always stick his arse in the air when I had one. When he was born he weighed 7lb11oz, he was 22″ long and fit in size 0-3 month clothing with only a little room left. He had my nose and lips but his dads flat feet. He had my little toes, my long fingers but his dads large rib cage. I can tell you how I spent my 3 days with him and I can tell you he was a very loved little boy.
I want to enjoy talking about him and knowing the most about him because very soon if everything goes well I’m going to be able to tell you how this little boy’s cry sounds like, what his eyes look like, his favourite position to sleep in is. I’m going to be able to tell you about his whole life. How he is doing in school, what his GCSEs are, how he looked on his wedding and everything in between. So please just for now let me talk about my son I know the most about because very soon I’m not going to have that.
I know it was really naive of me to think that the outside world would be as open-minded about my son. I really did think it would be the same. I know now.
*depressing post over*