His name is Will.
“William, is that what you are naming him? Is that what you’ll call him?”
“Will” I reply absently.
It’s good and strong, I think.
Even though we had thought we would call him Billy while he was small.
Now, it seems wrong.
Too young for someone who has been through so much.
The doctor looks downwards as he tells us that our son will die.
My beautiful boy.
We cry after he has gone, this doctor, who looks as though he has given alot of bad news in his lifetime.
After, we move from the tiny airless room, we face the awful, unimaginable truth
that we have brought our baby boy into the world, only to lose him five days later.
We hold his hand.
We stroke his head, his soft downy hair, commit his face to memory.
His ears, his hands and feet, all perfectly formed.
We do not know how to let him go.
We do not know if we can.
“Don’t give up on him” I whisper, to no one in particular but I can see that everyone accepts his death as surely as I breathe in and out.
I don’t want to live, if he doesn’t.
We go home.
We tell his sisters.
“Will isn’t going to live”.
They cry and then run away, the sorrow too heavy, the grief too thick .
A call comes in the middle of the night;
“Baby is worseninng”
“His name is Will” I tell the night doctor
and by early morning I know, the pit of my stomach a heavy mass;
today is the day.
We hold him and talk to him
together
on our own
as a family
as grandparents, godparents, sisters, friends
mothers
fathers.
We watch as they pull the tubes away from his body.
“It’s over,” my father declares, almost panic stricken and pulls the baby into his arms.
“It’s all over.”
It’s not.
He stays with us for an hour before his heart just stops.
I don’t remember much afterwards
but I don’t forget much either.
His name was Will.
He is my son.
October 15th is pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day.
I’ll light a candle for you, sweet boy.
I am sorry. I am so sorry. Praying for you today.
So so sorry sweetheart. Will is a strong, handsome name for your beautiful little boy. xx
No words, only tears.
I cannot imagine anything more awful.
Big, teary {{HUGS}}, Tiff.
You know how I feel. Our girl’s name was Sarah Katherine. December 10, 1980.
It’s 5am (don’t ask) and I’m here crying. Love you xxx Thinking of you xxx
Thank you for sharing that moment. The precious few moments with your Will.
And he always will be Will, Tiff.
Tears and hugs – and heck, I think I have a few candles to light tonight for my friends here.
So sad : (
So very sad
Many hugs for you and your family Tiff, on this special day xoxo
My roses are blooming this week. I will pick a big flower, bring it indoors today and think of you and the others who have suffered such terrible losses.
No words can ever help, but I’m so so sorry.
Hugs. Candles are lit here too, for Will and Aubrey as well as Sophie.
He is so beautiful and I am crying.
xx
This made me start to cry whilst sitting at work. Really sorry that this had to happen to you and your family
I remember the day too, Tiff. It was like no other, so surreal even remembering it today. I. personally, will never forget nor do I wish too, little Will and his short time with us. Even in the darkest moment that is ever imaginable, a mother & father, shared an a moment in time with others and made into such a loving memory,with such dignity and honour for a beautiful baby boy, who in 5 days made a bigger impact on this world than any human could hope to achieve in this lifetime. Love you, Tiff xoxo
So much sadness. I have tears in my eyes. I am so sorry for your loss Tiff. Hugs to you my beautiful friend.
Thinking of you and Will today, sweet girl.
He will never be forgotten.
((((hugs))))
xoxoxoxox
I am so so sorry. I cry for you.
Tiff – I came so close to losing my first son at birth also. In fact, they almost lost both of us. I think of this sometimes and gets chills. Thank God I did not lose him. My heart aches as I read this. What a hard, hard decision and the pain afterwards. God bless you sweetie. Hugs from the USA and Kathleen in Memphis, TN.
I have been thinking of William a lot lately. Hugs to all of you.
Something about the way you speak of him, Tiff, always speaks deep to my soul. Gives me courage in the knowledge that love lives on in spite of everything. That there is something good that can transcend all heartache and devastation when there is a soul that loves another. You are such a beautiful mum to your children — even though I know you’ve had so many more questions than answers during the past few years. I’m so very sorry I’ve not been about much of late, but you and your lovely family have been close in my thoughts and prayers.
~Michelle
That is unimaginable, losing a child, especially when he was so young.
x
I am so lost for words, but if you could see my face, you’d know.
xx
thinking of you and Will today and always.
much love
Such a beautiful post. you do this so well. Thankyou. Our boy is Luka, January 10th 2008.
Bittersweet . Poignant and beautiful tribute to your darling Will.
My candles are lit tonight.
Thank you.
So so sad, but it is so beautiful the way you write about William and the love you have for him.
No words.
[...] my beautiful, strong friend Tiff and her Will. Gone too soon, loved forever. [...]
Shedding a tear for your beautiful boy.
What a powerful post and that photo is so special, it captures the moment and the memories. I’m so sorry for your loss.
You chose the perfect name and I’m sure Will is going to return somehow, someday. Perhaps as a grandson.
I lit a candle for you all & Will. I have no words.
This must have been so hard to write…thank you for sharing this with us…for sharing your heart and William like this with us.
Thinking of you…
What a heart wrenching story…my prayers to go you as always…
I lit the candle and remembered our babies. xxx
I also held a son through his final moments. Love from another that remembers that day so well.