For Castiel 🕯
For Castiel 🕯
I was never going to dress you, breastfeed you, push you in the pram we got you, take you to see the ducks, take you on our first family holiday that we were planning, take you swimming, pick you up from school, take you out every year for your birthday. We had plans for you baby boy. Plans that were never going to be. But in my head I got to live out the fantasy of what could be, in my daydreams you lived a whole lifetime.
Like every day since we said goodbye, the thought “you should still be here” popped into my head. And I thought how I would get that every day until your due date. But that’s wrong. It won’t stop then. Every day for the rest of my life that passing thought will haunt me, that you should still be here.
Some days it’s hard to associate the little face we saw on the scan, my growing bump, with the baby I gave birth to. The connection between the you I was connecting with on the inside vs you on the outside isn’t always there. It’s as if they’re two different things, and I grieve for both.
There’s the you that was 2D and black & white and made me nauseous and unable to walk fast or far. The you that was doubling in size week by week, that gave us so much hope and excitement. We had no idea who you were, girl or boy, we called you Lil Bub.
Then there’s the you that was too small and squishy, that never got to open your eyes or take a breath, that laid there silently and never moved or cried. Our dead baby boy, Castiel.
It’s hard to think you’re my Lil Bub, Cass, that you were all those happy memories and not just a dream I had long ago where I was pregnant but then I woke up and I actually wasn’t. I’ll try my best not to let our sadness strip away those amazing 20 weeks with you, to forget that that was you, just like I promised you when I said goodbye to your body.
It’s been 3 weeks and 3 days Cass. Time is a funny thing. Now there’s a before and after.
I realised earlier how grateful I was that your anomaly scan was pushed back, I’m so glad I got that extra time with you, we were together for just a bit longer and I needed that. I needed all the time I could get with you, because that was it.
Fragile – the only word I can think to describe myself at the moment. Everyone tells me how strong I am, but I don’t feel strong at all. It feels like if you poke me I’ll shatter into pieces. I’ve always been sensitive but now everything feels like a personal attack, the slightest bit of criticism and in my head I go right to ‘I can’t do anything right’ vs ‘please cut me even more slack than you already are because my baby died and I can’t handle negativity’. I feel like everything in my life has to go well right now, I deserve something to go right? But life doesn’t work like that.
I mourn the life you could have had
I mourn everything you missed out on
I mourn everything we missed out on
I mourn the me I could have been
It could all have been so different
In another life
Today it’s my husbands 28th birthday, so happy birthday to my favourite person, my person. Who has been there through everything with me; he’s cried with me, made sure I laughed every day, held me during labour and told me how great I was doing. I never thought I’d be loved the way he loves me. You grow up seeing the Disney, fairytale love, but this is the real life version – a partner who puts your needs before theirs, who you can rely on, and who overall makes your life brighter. I want to give him everything, but mostly a child. I’ve always known he’d be a great father, and seeing tiny little Cass in his arms confirmed it. I’ve often doubted my parenting abilities but never his. I can’t wait for the day when he falls asleep with our baby on his chest after singing them to sleep, taking annoying amounts of cute selfies with them, teaching them karate moves… I want all these moments for him, he deserves them, and so do our future little ones.