These pretty little toes and wrinkly little feet are attached to tiny wrinkly little legs. This is a picture of my daughter after we lost her.
This is the unspoken.
When your baby dies there is no right or wrong.
I held her in my arms until she took her last breath. It took all the strength my body had to hand her to a nurse and to say no to helping her bathe my dead daughter.
Why? Because I thought by saying yes I was strange. It is my deepest regret and a memory and extra moment with my daughter that I will never EVER get back.
It didn’t take long before I was immersed in eternal guilt for this decision. It taught me a valuable lesson. I will never let anyone else’s judgement hinder my decision to do something. EVER.
I can only imagine what the experience may have been like.
After she died so many friends told me about Heartfelt. The amazing organisation who took this beautiful photo of my beautiful daughter. It took a good two days before I was comfortable with this decision.
I knew the time they were arriving to take photos of her but I couldn’t be there.
I sat in my hospital room all alone and cried. Someone else was holding my daughter and I wanted it to be me.
Saxon arrived to find me in pieces. He called the nurse and requested that Charlize be brought to us rather back down to the morgue.
That day we were taken to a private room. The nurse arrived with Charlize in a pram, swaddled in a beautiful blanket, the one in the picture. If you saw her walking you would’ve admired the sleeping bundle in the pram as that is what she looked like.
As she passed her to me she placed a soft kiss upon her head. A gesture embedded in my heart forever.
That day, Saxon and I sat with our daughter and admired her beauty. Noticed her second toe was bigger than her first like her Daddy, like her brother, like her twin.
That day we filled her with our love. I inhaled her scent hoping it would stay fixed in my senses always. I rubbed my cheek against her soft head hoping that sensation would bring tingles to my spine whenever I thought of it.
That day we filled ourselves with her, our dead baby, our precious daughter.
This is the unspoken.
This is the stuff people don’t really want to know or think about.
This is what keeps heartbroken, grieving mothers like myself still standing. These unspoken moments where there are no photos, these unspoken moments that you keep in your heart and hope that someone one day asks you about so you can tell them.
Tell them how your baby girl smelt, how she felt and what she looked like so these unspoken moments are never lost from my memory.