Meeting Bobby

Tuesday 7th July. The day I finally got to hold my Son.

He was wrapped up in a blue blanket, dressed in a funny white outfit, lying in a white mosses basket with a blue teddy keeping him company.

The room he was in was dimly lit because the curtains were drawn and it was made out to look like a nursery, with teddies of all sizes propped up in one corner of the room.

I was worried about seeing him at first because I wasn’t sure what to expect but it was surprisingly ‘easy’. I will never forget the image of him in his basket when the door was first opened or the way I took in a little gasp, it never occurred to me that he would appear red but once I had him in my arms it didn’t matter. I held him for forty five minutes. We spent that time together just the two of us. I tried to speak to him but I could only manage whispering and because the room was so peaceful it didn’t seem out of place. I told him quite a few times that I was sorry and that I loved him and I made sure that each tear fell away from him because I didn’t want to get him wet. It all felt strangely natural.

The one thing I will never get over is how much he looks like my OH. I have always wondered which part of us our babies would take on and there is no doubt that Bobby is his Son. He has his Daddy’s nose and his big lips, his long legs and he randomly has quite big feet even though both his Daddy and I have small feet. The only glimpse of me I could see was his chin and his tiny sausage fingers.

I was told at his birth that he would be the size of my hand but he was a proper little baby. His head alone was the size of my fist. I think he would have been quite long at full term because wrapped in his blanket from head to toe he was the length of my inside elbow to my fingers. I still can not get over his perfectly formed finger nails and his little black eyebrows. I just wish I could have seen what colour his eyes were.

I had brought a hat, mittens and socks with me to put on him but he was far too small for them so I gave them to the lady to put into his coffin. I also gave him the dummy and the letter from us and our photo.

Before I had gone in, I sat down outside the room by the lady who explained what I would find and advised that babies up to a certain gestation do not go stiff in death. She had asked me if I wanted to see his photos first before I went in but I declined because sometimes photos do not portray the real soul of someone.

After my visit his photos and his prints were given to me and I made my way out into town to meet up with a good friend of whom we had met via my old Birth Board. She infact the first ‘real’ person I had met up with since his death.

His funeral has been booked for next Tuesday at 9am. In a strange way I’m looking forward to it because then we can finally lay him to rest and we can then go and visit him whenever we want. Plus he will be with the other baby’s who will unfortunately be there with him.

In a strange way, seeing Bobby has given me a little bit of peace. I still cry every day but since seeing him, something feels slightly different inside. I now know what people mean when they say that the love you feel for your baby is a different love to that of your family or partner.
I may have only got to spend forty five minutes being a ‘proper’ Mummy to my Son but I will love him the same way any other Mummy loves their child for the rest of eternity and nothing and no one can ever take that love away from us.