Memorial Service

Liam, today I walked into your room. Unfortunately, over the months we have placed a few items into one of the corners and have not yet re-homed them. It is definitely on the to-do list, like so many other things but for the time being your space is currently being shared. You are sharing it with a dismantled cot left there when your brother moved into his big boy bed. Do we keep it for ‘what if’ or donate it because it is a daily reminder of the cot that you are meant to be sleeping in? There are also a few bags of clothes that really should be donated but I am holding on to them. I am too tired most days to sort them out and take them down and on other days I wonder will I ever fit back into them? There is also the cushion I used to lie on next to Caden’s cot when he was sick or teething. I would hold his hand through the bars until he fell asleep, then creep back into my own bed. Oh Liam how I wish I got to use that cushion again. Instead our memory together is me in a recliner chair holding your hand through a circle cut out in the NICU crib. It is a memory I cherish, I just wish every day it would have ended differently and my touch, like with Caden, would have made you all better. I hope when I held your hand it did offer you some comfort sweet boy.

So when I walked in to your room I went over and opened up the blinds like I do each morning and I talked to you about what Caden and I had planned for the day and let you know your Daddy had left for work. I stopped to look around the room and a smile came across my face. The gifts and cards from your memorial service are still up all around your room. The dresser and shelves are covered in butterfly cards with beautiful messages of love and support within each one. The gifts remind us that our angel, you, is always near. Your flowers, red this week, caught the sunlight in the right way and just shone so brightly. We haven’t had much sun here lately Liam so it was beautiful to see it shining in on all of your things.

At that moment your brother Caden came in hard and fast and ended up not pulling up in time and nearly took out my legs from under me. We had a laugh together and then he grabbed one of your blue teddies and gave it a squeeze, his way of saying Good Morning. I placed it back up on the shelf for him after he ran off at the same speed he entered. Liam, I looked around at all the beautiful cards and messages and I thought how proud I was of myself for planning your memorial service and in particular the direct message I sent out to inform people of our wishes. I dug up the original message on my phone while eating breakfast and this is what it said:

We would like to invite you to help us remember Liam Bradley Wilson. Here for only a week in our arms but forever in our hearts.

We request no flowers or condolence but would love cards that we can read to Liam that let him know his birth was celebrated, as with the sudden sadness he was robbed of the congratulations of his arrival. Messages that let him know he is cherished and loved and how brave he was in the short time he was here. Messages that display just how adored and remembered he will be…always and forever. Our gorgeous son Liam is absolutely perfect…just too small for this world xo 

Please as little black as possible as butterflies come in many colours.

Liam, your memorial service was the one thing I will only ever get to plan and prepare for you. I will not get to throw you an over the top 1^st birthday party like we did for your brother, celebrating raising you so well in your first year or stand proudly next to you at your 18th as we celebrate you becoming an adult. I only get to prepare this special day for you and even though I was struggling to breathe, struggling to wake up every morning and struggling to survive without you. I did what a mother does: I protected your memory as I couldn’t protect you. Everything in your room today made me smile rather than feel sad or angry, all I saw on the front of the cards were…colourful butterflies, blue teddy bears, ‘beautiful baby boy’ font, cute little toes, ‘It’s a boy’ headings and my favourite, Liam. I was so proud of myself for rejecting the condolence and asking for the congratulations, asking for you to be recognised…your life to be recognised. Liam, it is these little things every day now that can mean the difference between a bad day or a slightly better one. Today slightly better won and it was because in the depth of the darkness five months ago the resolution came from somewhere to request what we would need in the future to help make the days a little brighter.

Liam, I hope you love your cards as much as I do. I really appreciate all of your family and friends who took the time to write such beautiful messages.

Love Mummy