*Warning: readers may find some or all of this content distressing*
Have you ever mourned something you never really had? What do you mourn exactly? Do you mourn the could have beens? Do you mourn life’s memories that will never be told because they never really lived in the first place? Or do we mourn the little pieces of our human soul that have broken, lost and re-jigged back together over someone that has spent the smallest amount of time with our beings?
Is it okay to feel like your world has collapsed over someone that never ever got the chance to mutter a word to you? How do you mourn someone you never got the chance to meet because life is cruel?
How do you live each day knowing you’ve lost someone that meant the world to you, but never got the chance to make their mark on this world?
There are more than 3,600 stillbirths every year in the UK with eleven babies stillborn every day.
A few weeks ago, we lost the newest member of our family through the same process. Me, I lost a nephew. My sister and her husband lost their tiny, beautiful, very loved little boy Luke.
Genetically linked, there was always the chance that Luke wouldn’t be okay. My mum had lost two of my brothers through the same cruel process. Me? There’s the very high possibility that I’ll have the same issue once I sit down and decide I want to have children. That absolutely terrifies me and if anything, makes me never ever want to even try.
I’ve lost people to death in the past — through sheer ill health, old age and to the complex issue of suicide, however, losing Luke was a complete and utter different kettle of fish.
Instead of sitting there cherishing the memories, laughing at old times, being angry at someone’s actions, regretting being there — I stood and mourned the person he would have turned into.
Would he be a little pocket rocket like his older brother? Would I be able to coax him into Harry Potter books like I did his older sister? I stood there thinking of how loved he would be, how I would spoil him to the point where I’d need to get a third and maybe a fourth job, how both my niece and nephew would show him the wonders of this world and take him under their precious wings and love him just as much as they love each other. Would he call me his cool Auntie Sammy like his older siblings do?
I stood with a heart as heavy as the world, looking at this tiny, beautifully crafted little box — wondering how this could happen to a little human being that would have been welcomed with such joy, love and excitement. Seeing my favourite people fall at the seams, but stand stronger than ever was the hardest thing.
I can’t help but think we’ve been robbed. Robbed of time, robbed of someone that would have fitted so beautifully and so perfectly into our little family. My sister and her husband have been robbed of the child they’ve longed for, my niece and nephew robbed for a brother they would have played so wonderfully with.
All we have left is what could have been, what would have been and what should have been.
Life is cruel.
If you would like to talk to anyone about bereavement or other things, please contact Meic, the national information, advice and advocacy helpline for 0-25s in Wales. You can contact Meic by phone (080880 23456), text (84001), instant message (www.meic.cymru) or email (email@example.com) between 8am and midnight.
Click here for the next Sprout Editorial Group meeting.
It’s free and quick to comment below but we recommend signing up with your email or as a guest to keep usernames Sprouty and anonymous (and never post personal details!).
If you want more info on staying safe online, check out our online safety section.