For anyone who has suffered the heartbreaking loss of a child, Hattie Deards' words are bound to resonate as she recalls the tragic passing of her 12-week-old son, Theo, on a cold December day in 2012.
Setting the scene for readers of The Telegraph in an open letter to her late son, mum-of-four Hattie writes: "It was a milestone day. You had hit 12 weeks old, you were officially into the “good zone”."
In the heartbreaking letter Hattie pays tribute to the child which her family had only recently welcomed, continuing: "I could see the path of life with three small children ahead of me, and it was looking sunny, not daunting. You had made that possible; you were a dream baby. Relaxed, ailment-free, content and companionable."
Having spent the day at the park as New Years Eve approached, Hattie and her three children returned to the family home where Theo was laid down to sleep while the rest of the family busied themselves with typical household chores.
In heartbreaking detail, Hattie recalls suddenly feeling unsettled and felt compelled to check on her youngest child, writing: "I don’t know if my mind has added an eerie dimension to the afternoon, but I remember feeling uneasy about something."
In the still dark of her youngest child's bedroom, Hattie was faced with a scene no mother should ever have to endure - a scene which will undoubtedly be etched in her mind forever.
"I turned on the bedroom light, walked over to your cot and found you face down on the mattress, dead. I screamed so loudly that the noise still echoes in my brain, and ran out of the room holding you in front of me."
Hattie recalls making her way downstairs before being met by her horrified husband,Tom, remembering: "I threw your lifeless body into his arms, screaming that you weren’t breathing, screaming, screaming, gagging, doubled over, seeing the silent faces of your brother and sister at the bottom of the stairs, expressionless, terrified."
With neighbours tending to the couple's other children, Ned and Esther, Hattie and Tom made their way to Middlesex hospital where medical professionals worked feverishly on their 12-week-old son.
"We can’t do anything. Daddy curls up on a tiny sofa and pulls a coat over his head. He is shutting down, his body and mind don’t know what to do," Hattie tells Theo in the heartbreaking letter.
Having been transferred to Great Ormond Street hospital, Hattie recalls her son enduring brain scans during which time she and her husband could only wait to hear their child's prognosis.
"Hours passed in agony, thrashing around, walking the corridors and watching the darkness of Queens Square from the window, feeling my breasts fill up with milk and with no baby to feed."
Faced with something no parent should ever have to endure, Hattie and her husband made the decision to switch off their child;s life machine, with Hattie writing: "We never fought to keep you alive on the machines. Your brain was dead, your skin was turning yellow from organ failure, we needed you to be free."
"You lay in my arms, your head on my chest. For a minute or so, you breathed alone, your daddy and I gripping you so tightly, our tears creating pools that gathered in your ears. You made a quiet gurgling sound and it was over," Hattie wrote.
Paying tribute to the child who made an immeasurable impact on the lives of his beloved parents and older siblings, Hattie finished: "And yet, almost three years later, it isn’t really over. You have a new little brother now, Eli, born 10 months after your death, and in him lives a piece of you."
Telling her 'darling boy' how much he changed her, Hattie concluded: "I held and sustained you from conception through to death and I love you. It’s impossible to say how much we miss you, our son, our brother."
Our thoughts go out to Hattie, Tom, Ned, Esther and Eli this Christmas.
