My heart breaks for her as I think of her today, this final day.
The thought of her hearing the news, those terrible, terrible words, that her baby boy has drowned.
The thought of her having to identify her beautiful, perfect little baby in a cold, sterile hospital somewhere.
The thought of her grieving to the point of almost breaking.
The thought of her salty tear-stained face, forlorn and marked with angst and dread and utter, utter brokenness.
The thought of her taking care of her 4 girls without the help of their Dad, her husband.
The thought of her trying to sleep in the dark, ever so lonely blanket of night.
The thought of her struggling with the very physical discomfort of a body that has had no time to wean itself from a suckling baby. A constant, weeping reminder of her loss.
The thought of her not being able to grieve in a way that she should be able to grieve – the media and the hype and the judgement and the fear and the negative comments that make her grief even more unbearable.
The thought of her having to be so very careful about everything she says and feels in case it could be used for bad.
The thought of her life without this baby boy who she had been yearning for for so very long.
The thought of her having to face life without seeing those first steps and hearing his first “I love you, Mumma'” and rising his first bike and all of those firsts that will not be hers to see.
The thought of her saying good bye to her baby boy. The utter, utter loss.
It’s almost unbearable for me just thinking about her. How unbearable must it be for her? Yet she must endure this and she must say good bye.
And then she must continue to wake up and live.
My thoughts are with her today.
Good bye, sweet, sweet baby Elijah.