Rachel is a mother to four beautiful children. She lost her baby Hamish in a tragic accident on the 4th of October 2012. Since then, she has created a blog where she shares her thoughts, feelings and her grief.
The last time I lay my beautiful little boy down for his daytime nap, I lay him in his cot, placed his special quilt over him, looked him directly in the eye and smiled. “I love you,” I told him. I don’t know why but I said it slowly and deliberately.
He smiled and squirmed with happiness. I walked out and he immediately rolled over and went to sleep. He was like that. I never had to settle him as a baby. As long as he had his blanket, he would stick out his little tongue (he sucked it like a dummy) and go straight to sleep.
When he woke up just after midday, my sister and his two cousins were at our house and he smiled and laughed as we all sat down and ate hotdogs. He’d never had one before (not the healthiest lunch around) and enjoyed it immensely.
Later in the day, I realised he had a dirty nappy, so I did a bit of a rushed nappy change in the back of the car whilst he squirmed and giggled. I bought Hamish a small ice cream cone and my sister Kelly fed it to him lick by lick while he shouted, “More! More!”
For some reason it was not a good food day. Normally, he’d eat loads of fruit (banana, kiwifruit and strawberries were his favourite) and at least one avocado sandwich. After ice-cream the kids ran around on the grass and Hamish joined them for a bit before finding flowers to pick for me. As he handed me a dandelion, I said “thank you Hami” and gave him a kiss (my last one).
Soon after we returned home that afternoon our nightmare began.
I know you want to hear about what happened next but I can’t go on any more. The next half hour is so traumatic, I can’t bear to recall it.
I also can’t recall it without upsetting my daughter in future years, so that’s where I will leave it for now.
That was my precious son’s last day on earth. He died the next morning (October 4th) at the Royal Children’s Hospital in Brisbane. My beautiful, stunning child. The love and light of my life. He’s gone. HE’S GONE! I still can’t believe someone so beautiful, innocent and precious is no longer here.
I don’t know why this happened. I can’t even start to fathom how I’m going to live. I hate life right now. I hate it. I can’t physically bear it. I’m desperate for some kind of escape but there’s no way out of the blackest of black holes I’m in. My son is gone and I have to somehow find a way to live with that.
God help me.
I am a shell of a woman. I carry my shattered heart inside my heaving chest day in, day out. People swirl around me in a maze of colour and frivolity. I see kindness. I see happiness. I see compassion. I see beautiful people. But I feel nothing.