15 October marks Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day and an international Wave of Light takes place from 7 pm to 8 pm this evening. Féileacáin, the Stillbirth and Neonatal Death Association of Ireland have organised that buildings across Ireland will light up pink and blue in honour of pregnancy and infant loss, you can find out more on that here.
Anne Marie is a proud mother of Max, who was stillborn in the 42nd week of a healthy pregnancy in January 2015. Anne Marie is passionate about the rights of bereaved parents to talk about their children and about the importance of lifting the discomfort that surrounds the subjects of baby loss and infertility. She has penned this beautiful poem in honour of her baby son.
I wish I could show you the world.
I wish I could watch you squelch your chubby fists in wet sand and squeal as frothy waves wash over your tiny little feet.
I wish I could show you the constellations of stars and tell tales to you of the man in the moon.
I wish I could read you your bedtime stories; I could know your favourite one off by heart.
I hope I would have remained patient, even the thousandth time.
I hope I would have used funny voices or added in a crazy ending to make you giggle.
I hope I wouldn’t have taken these moments for granted.
I hope that no matter how sleep deprived I was, no matter how messy your toys were, how stressed and wrecked and distracted I was; I hope I would have let the world slow down for those moments.
I hope I would have relished watching your full eyelashes drift gently towards your rosy cheek. I hope I wouldn’t have lived in terror that one day those eyes might not open, but to retain the gratitude of living in a world where they did.
I wish I could help make you brave enough to ride roller coasters without being stupid enough to drive cars like a maniac.
I wish I could teach you to be strong and stand up for yourself while still being kind and gentle.
I wish I could help you with your homework.
I wish I could share the magic of a beautiful poem or the nine times table.
I wish I could gush over your messy masterpiece picture of our little family.
I wish I could watch you grow smarter than me, to smile with pride and to ache with longing when you didn’t need me anymore.
I wish I could show you the world.
I wish we could grin in selfies in beautiful places.
I wish we could visit art galleries and museums and water parks.
I wish I could watch you decide which food you love, to grin in delight at your first taste of sugar and to ball your face up in a grimace at your first lick of a lemon.
I wish I could watch your eyes grow wide at your first experience of snow.
I wish we could pick together the perfect carrot for your first snowman’s nose.
I wish I could show you the world.
I wish the world could have met you.
