It is that time of the year again.
This entire week, I have been re-living that last week of Cameron’s life. A memory here. A memory there. Enveloping me when I least expect it.
Tears. They have come. And they have gone. And they have come again.
I have stayed at home all week. Looking after the boys. Resting whenever I can. Soaking in the boys at every opportunity.
It does not escape me how blessed I am. To have these three gorgeous boys in my life. They are such a blessing. Such a blessing.
They have seen their mummy cry this week, and they have all been so sweet. Even little Jamie who is only one and a half knows how to smile his precious smile to help ease mummy’s pain. Pete, in particular, has been so caring – putting his forehead on mine whenever he sees me in tears. “Mummy sad?” he would ask me. “Yes, mummy sad.”
This week I’ve realised that a mother’s guilt never goes away. Even five years on, I still fear that I caused Cameron’s death. That had I been less pre-occupied that week with the design job I had on, he would’ve arrived earlier. And lived.
Those last five days of Cameron’s life haunt me. Monday was his due date. Tuesday we went to see our doctor. Wednesday and Thursday I was still working on the client’s magazine. Friday night we went out to a friend’s farewell…
Saturday, he died.
It haunts me that no matter how many times that week replays itself in my head, I cannot change the outcome.
All I have are my ‘if onlys’.
If only we’d induced him that Tuesday.
If only I hadn’t been working up till that week.
If only I’d slowed down.
If only I’d paid more attention to his movements that Friday.
If only we hadn’t gone out that night.
If only we’d booked an earlier induction date than the following Monday.
I have been so short on words this week. Too tired to actually verbalise what I am feeling inside.
But it comes down to this: Cameron is gone. And it hurts.
I love him. I miss him. And it hurts.
I wish he hadn’t died. I wish he were alive.