Remembering an angel in an unexpected moment

Those of you who have lost a baby, you know the grief. The remembering hits you at the most unexpected times when you’re not altogether prepared for it.

 

Even though it’s been a couple of years since we lost our first, I thought I was over it or at least learned to live with that little part of you that will be forever missing. But the words of Ed Sheeran’s song Photograph, which he was serenading Croke Park with a couple of weekends ago, hit me hard.

 

‘Loving can hurt, loving can hurt sometimes/ we keep this love in photograph, we made these memories for ourselves, where our eyes are never closing, hearts are never broken and time’s forever frozen still.’

 

Suddenly my mind was filled with you, my darling little boy, where the only proof you ever existed is in a photograph from the ultrasound. We were ecstatic – our first baby. We dreamt of what you might be when you grew up; who you’d look like; how you’d be the best big brother. But soon after this news our hearts were broken when the doctor told us: “Sorry, there’s no heartbeat.”

 

We went through the grieving process for our little boy who we’d never get to see smile or ride a bike or grow into his dreams. We comforted ourselves in the knowledge that we lost him for a reason; that there might have been something wrong and it was kinder for him to leave us now than to be born into pain. We even put up with the hurtful naive people who suggested our grief was unnecessary; that everyone has miscarriages and “it was not a real baby”.

 

But time and love heals all. You move on and you remember your little angel in your own special way on those particular days when your other children are born or the day your angel baby was supposed to start school.

 

But I wonder why, when you should be so happy in a moment, you’re remembering the little person that was never meant to grace this earth. It could be the laugh of your other kids, playing innocently in the grass and you wonder what it would be like if there was another child, their brother or sister playing there with them. And you wonder, would they have gotten along? Would they look alike? Would they laugh the same?

 

Most of those times, the grief would come back and it would be tinged with a sadness that there is someone missing. But as Ed sang and the sun suddenly peeked out from under the roof of Croke Park, we were bathed in bright evening sunlight and I listened to the lyrics.

 

‘Loving can heal and loving can mend your soul. I swear it will get easier. Keep me inside the pocket of your ripped jeans, holding me closer ‘til our eyes meet, you won’t ever be alone/ I won’t ever let you go. Wait for me to come home.’

 

Tears streamed down my face and it felt like eighty thousand people just melted away.  A peacefulness came over me, no sorrow, no regrets, no grief just a feeling that everything was ok; that my little boy is exactly where he’s supposed to be and so am I. 

 

Aisling Kearney Burke is a mum to two inquisitive and destructive Under 4’s from Galway, who divides her time between running her own business, Beechmount Art Studio and attempting to negotiate the minefield of parenthood.

 

Image via Pinterest