What happens when they all forget about you?

It’s like losing your breath and never catching it again.
It’s a forever panic attack as your soul is screaming for them.
It’s feeling your heart dying as you continue to loose your mind.

Yesterday, yesterday once I was up and showered, I felt optimistic about the day, I felt like it would be a good day.. I started by cleaning, recutting and putting fresh water in some of the vases for flowers… I wish I could show you all the beautiful flowers people took the time to send to us Henry, we are so very grateful, one thing this whole situation has brought in to my life is a deeper sense of gratitude for everything in my life, not that I wasn’t grateful before as I was but now every bunch of flowers sent, every card with heartfelt words to comfort us, every gift, every message I am really ever so grateful for as it means others are thinking of us, it shows the great amount of people who care, that feel too.

I was doing all this when your dad bought me back a coffee, we talked about different things and smiled ready to tackle the day. Your uncle and Nanny popped over, your uncle helped your dad chop up the tree he’d cut down out the back with a chainsaw while your nanny and I talked, we talked of you, we talked of loss, you Nanny asking herself the very same questions I had asked myself a thousand times, I got it, I understood as she was so very excited about you too and is grieving the loss of you her grandson and of seeing your dad her own son and his wife in immense pain, it makes me wish I could help her pain too.

When they left, I found my head swimming, drowning in thoughts, unable to focus. I decided to get out of the house and go to the supermarket to get some tea as we were out… something I couldn’t drink while pregnant with you… no tea at all it’s funny what pregnancy can do.

Yesterday, I couldn’t catch my breath, yesterday panic arose in my mind, I felt it in my chest…. I thought what happens when they all forget about you? what happens when they stop asking about you?.. It was all too much…. as the days go on as we try to move, as we make our way through this fog we are stuck in. If you were alive people would ask of you often and come for cuddles and to see you, but you are not and when this fog eventually starts to clear a little bit, the world has to keep turning and going and there’s only so much one can ask about you when you are gone. I can’t even describe how I began to feel as I realised that one day we may be the only ones that speak your name.

Yesterday afternoon, your dad cried, he posted a picture he had taken in the waves, he posted words to you about how the ocean was now there to wash away his tears for you and how each time he was out there you’d be there with him. He cried I hugged him, your uncle hugged him, we all cried and then joked about the dust in the house that must be causing sinus problems, but it really makes me think about how hard it must be for your dad, he has cried but he has also been so strong, he’s sent difficult messages and had difficult conversations, faced people for me when I haven’t been able to. I found this and I think it is fitting.


‘He lost his baby too’ we both lost you Henry, we are both grieving, we are both missing you oh so much! I try to think of what I can do for your dad but all I can do is be there for him as he is for me as nothing I can do will make the pain any easier. it’s all a process.

I watched your Dad last night, I watched him as we sat at your nanny and poppy’s house, your two uncles, your aunt and nephews and nieces were there, I sat and I watched your Dad as he played, he played with your Nephews chasing them, making voices, catching and tickling them and making them laugh and laugh and laugh, I watched on smiling he’s always so good with them never afraid to get in there… I watched smiling but with a heavy sadness in my heart, I watched as I thought about how wonderful your dad would have been with you Henry, as I thought about how I know he would have come home from work and you would have been the first one he cuddled, he would have pulled faces at you to make you laugh, he would have taken you out in the water and held you in his arms to keep you safe and it absolutely breaks my heart all over again that he can not do that with you.

We sat on our lounge last night, we sat and I thought about your room.

Your room remains untouched

Our arms are empty

Our hearts are full of love, yet broken at the same time

I look at your room and I curse myself, I curse myself for being so organised, I wish to myself I could be one of those last-minute people who wasn’t prepared, then I wouldn’t have packets and packets of wipes and nappies ready to go.

Bath products, I opened the bathroom cupboard last night to get another toilet paper roll and tears stung my eyes once more as all the natural organic products I was going to use to bathe you in live there.

I stare at the books on the shelf in your room, books I so carefully selected for you, stories from our own childhoods I wanted to share with you

I stare, I look at the empty chair in the corner of the room, the chair I planned to snuggle with you in as I would feed you, the chair I planned to rock you in, the chair where I would have sat with you for hours taking in the sweetness of your little face, kissing your hands, toes, your cheeks and nose. The chair that remains empty now.

Wraps, clothes, bibs all there, toys for when you got bigger, we were so prepared.

A brand new pram!

Your car seat still remains in my car, I can’t bring myself to take it out.

I thought of all these things in my overcrowded mind, I cried and your Dad cried too.

Last night, last night Henry I felt angry, I saw a news story online about a mother, a mother who had neglected her children so badly, only the law couldn’t punish her with jail time as they were only fineable offences, how she was fined, but these are fines due to her circumstances she can never pay back and never will. She let her children live in conditions with faeces covering the walls, rubbish, conditions almost uninhabitable was how it was described by officers who attended to check on the children, I got angry because she can have her children, she doesn’t look after them and yet we have this oh so lovingly set room and home and so much love, but yet don’t get to have you. For the first time I felt so so angry over the unfairness the injustice of it all.

This morning, lying in bed this morning listening to the rain, I wondered if I went and stood in it to wash my tears would it wash some of the pain. Water seems to be our place for both your dad and I to use as an escape to sit to stand to cry.

But I found myself this morning also unable to move as the tears softly rolled down my cheeks this morning I couldn’t bring myself to even sit up, I wondered if I could just lay in bed all day. I wondered if perhaps the big quilt could just cover me up, if I lay here long enough would it all go away, but it won’t.

This morning I listen to the pouring rain as I type, I wonder how your dad and I will distract ourselves today, it’s harder with the rain as we can’t be outside, I wonder what we will do to try to keep our minds busy, how will we get through today. I question I ask myself everyday, but then I think of tomorrow and it stings, it hurts even more, tomorrow was supposed to be my first mothers day with you in my arms, I was so excited about that and seeing what your dad might plan, now I hurt, now I don’t know how to feel about that day, yes I am your mum but you are not here with me in my arms, I ache, it hurts it aches in every part of my body. No handmade gifts of handprints for me, no cards, no gifts of pasta made necklaces or handmade boxes from you as you grow. I am a mother, I am your mum, but I don’t get to mother you, I don’t get to look after you…. Instead I hurt, I cry, I get angry, I question why, I grieve. I think of your little face and tiny fingers I think of the 39 weeks I spent growing you inside me, I think of the sound of your heartbeat, I wonder how it all went wrong. I think of what I can do in your honour, I think of how new parents are not educated on so many things, I think of how shocked I am that this could happen, I didn’t know this could happen to us and then I break again, I break and the pieces seem to heavy to even try to put back together again and I know as I try to lift each individual piece it will never fit back the same.


Author: Letters to Henry

My husband and I live on the beautiful south coast of NSW, Australia. We are currently learning to rebuild and navigate through life after the loss of our son Henry to stillbirth due to medical negligence in April 2018 and learning to parent after loss with Henry's little sister born in August 2019..

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