The Chair

Isaac would have been four years old this year. 4 years old! I shake my head everything I think about it. I have no idea how the time has passed so quickly.

My baby would no longer be a baby. He would be about to start school. I would be shopping for a school uniform and buying him a lunch box. I would be watching his growing excitement for the birthday party I would inevitably be throwing for him and his little friends. I'd spend the rest of the summer soaking up every precious moment with him, and wishing it would never end just so he could stay my baby forever.

I'd be full of pride when Isaac would walk through the school gates on his first day of school. He'd be wearing a uniform that's just a little too large. I would hear my own mother's voice in my head as I justify that baggy jumper with "he will grow in to it". He would give me a cuddle before walking in to school, not looking back, because he's the brave boy that fought so hard to live. School is a walk in the park for Isaac.

Isaac would have a special peg in the classroom where he'd hang his coat. Again, it would be a little too big because I know he'd grown taller as the year goes on. I've come to this conclusion based on the fact that all our male relatives are giants! I know that one day Isaac would tower above me!

He would have his own pencil case and brand new stationary to put in to it. As a teacher myself, I would make sure he was fully prepared with pencils galore.  Paperchase wouldn't know what had hit them!

Isaac would want a chair on a table at the front of the room as he would be eager to learn. He'd soak up every piece of information and store it away for future reference. I know this as that's what his dad is like. Isaac would excel at both Maths and English. Isaac's dad would handle the numbers and I would do the words. How handy for him to have a mathematician for a father and English teacher for a mother! And whilst sitting in that chair, Isaac would be the most devoted student a teacher could ask for. Like his little sister, he would be asking an abundance of questions. I'm sure his hand would always be up! I would hope his teacher would feel proud that she had such a conscientious little student with such a curious mind. Get ready with the gold stars and 'Excellent!' stamps as our Isaac would be aiming high!

Of course, Isaac might be a little chatty like his mum. That's our fault really.  We would let him chatter away as we just loved to hear his happy, sunny voice. At parents evening it would be the only issue he would have.  However, I'm sure a little knowing look from his teacher would curb that small distraction.

Isaac would love music. We always have music playing in our house and its influence would no doubt have an effect on him. He would be a guitar player like his dad; and he would be just as familiar with 90s Brit Pop as he was with 'Wheels on the Bus'!

At playtime, Isaac would play all the games of our childhood too: It, hopscotch, i-spy, dodge ball, and hide and seek. I would like to think he would be popular and have a group of friends always around him. He would also be the one laughing the loudest. He got that from his dad too: the silly, infectious laugh that would make everyone smile.

At home time, I would pick Isaac up and we would walk back together. He'd nag me for sweets, but sigh when I produced an apple from my bag. He would chatter incessantly about all his adventures that day. I would listen and smile, mesmerised by his happiness and excitement.  How lucky am I to have such a joyful and enthusiastic son?

Except Isaac won't be going to school this year, or in fact, ever.  I will never have that chance to walk him to the school gates. He won't get to wear that baggy jumper that's two sizes too big for him. That chair in his teacher's classroom won't be his.

Instead I'm scrolling through Facebook looking at photographs of children that are posing proudly in their new uniforms, ready for their first day in September. They have on their 'too big' jumpers and new Clarks shoes.  It makes me smile for a minute or two; then I remember that it will never be Isaac’s turn. I guess people will find it hard to believe that I could smile in the first place, but it's true. Even though my son isn't here, I still understand the excitement and pride every parent has about the first day of school. I've understood it for a long time, both as a teacher and a parent. Those daydreams of what ‘should be’ can't help but creep in to my mind. That particular milestone would have filled me with pride.

The thing that saddens me the most is the thought of the chair in the classroom that should have been Isaac's. He should be sitting in that chair. Instead it will belong to another wee boy or girl. In a way, it's a positive thing that it won't be empty. Hopefully, the child in that seat will be as enthusiastic and eager to learn as I know my Isaac would have been. They may even have been his friend in another lifetime.

I'm sure that makes him smile: the thought of some lucky little boy or girl making good use of that chair.

And me? I guess I still have my daydreams. These will have to see me through until the next milestone.

XxX

We would like to ask everyone who reads this to light a candle in memory of Isaac or a loved one they have lost.

If you would like to donate to the Evelina Children's' Hospital please go to: http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserPage.action?userUrl=runningforisaac&pageUrl=13

Acts of Kindness

Four years ago today Isaac entered this world in a state of sheer panic and mayhem; yet he left it in peace and surrounded by love. The difference is so very marked and completely describes the contrasting places he was at those times. The hospital he was born in got it so very very wrong, in many ways. However, St.Thomas' Neonatal Unit was a place of calm, expertise and kindness. There is no getting away from the fact that they couldn't save his life, but they certainly tried; and they did everything they could to look after us.

The one thing that always struck me about St.Thomas' was how kind the staff were. Nothing was too much trouble for them. The whole time Isaac was on life support they gave us all constant care and attention. They treated us like parents, despite us being unable to really care for him. They went out of their way to teach us how to put a nappy on him through the mass of wires and tubes. The staff literally performed a game of 'Risk' by moving him gently out of his crib without compromising his life support, just so we could hold him. And at the end, they showed compassion and kindness by making sure we had some alone time with Isaac. 'Kind' is very much the word that sums the staff up. Even after Isaac died, they spent months looking after us through counselling. Isaac's Neonatal consultant and nurses have even stayed in touch to this day. Nothing was too much trouble for them, and they were genuinely concerned for all our welfare.

In the early days after Isaac's passing, the kindness of others was something we relied on too. We relied on people to feed us; tell us what to do; and to keep us going. Basically they kept us alive. Nothing really mattered, and if it wasn't for the kindness of family and friends i may not have been here to write this. Sounds dramatic doesn't it? But it's true. I cared nothing for my life for a long time. In fact, the thought of dying to be with my son was almost preferable to living this 'existence' we found ourselves in. Grieving very much relies on the kindness of others. Without their support we would have been able to take the time to process what was happening.

Further down the line when we started to learn how to live again, nothing could prepare us for the awkward conversations we were increasingly having with people. Why aren't I 'over it'? Why can't you come to so and so's baby shower/christening/birthday party? Why couldn't you just be the Simone you once were? The answers were simple. Because my son shouldn't have died...We tried so long to have him...I don't know how to be 'that' Simone anymore... It became frustrating and difficult. A few friends gave up on us. Some just couldn't deal with how sad the situation was. However, there were people in our lives that just 'got it'. Their empathy and understanding made everything simpler. They listened, waited and gently placed their hands on our shoulders as we learnt to walk through a minefield of grief that tripped us up on regular occasions. It was a long and complicated journey, and still is at times, but these people showed the true meaning of compassion and kindness by not giving up on us.

Even four years on, those small acts of kindness mean so much to us. A card at Christmas or birthdays where Isaac's name is mentioned acknowledges that we are still his parents. Asking us how we are doing with Isaac related matters helps keep his name alive. Understanding that the lovely news of pregnancies and births are always going to be a little sensitive, but handling it kindly and quietly helps. We are always so happy to hear people's exciting news; it just takes us a moment to absorb. To any grieving parent these kind acts mean so much.

When thinking about ways to mark Isaac's birthday this year we wanted to celebrate the kindness of others.  So much kindness that been shown to us since his passing. So many people have raised awareness of the good work St.Thomas' and the Evelina Children's Hospital do by taking on challenges to raise money for them. Many people are now breaking the taboo and speaking about baby loss more openly. We still see the kindness of others as they remember our son each year.  We decided to celebrate all the good that people do by asking everyone to do one Act of Kindness in memory of Isaac. It seemed fitting seeing as his memory has inspired so many to do good in the past. And you know what? People have rallied around and really supported this event. So many have requested Acts of Kindness tokens and it makes me smile to think that people are going out in to the world and spreading a little bit of happiness.

And thats what Isaac's legacy is: doing good for others. In his memory so much has been done to help those who are ill, grieving, or in need of help. I can only imagine how proud and touched he would be at everyone's kindness, because that's how we feel. 

Happy birthday little man. You're still doing us proud, and helping to spread kindness just by being you. That in itself is the best birthday present anyone could ask for.

Love always and forever,

Mummy, Daddy and Isla.

XxX.


If you would like to donate to the Evelina Children's' Hospital and/or receive an Act of Kindness, please go to:
http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/fundraiser-web/fundraiser/showFundraiserPage.action?userUrl=runningforisaac&pageUrl=13

Thank you.