It feels right to finish the tenth anniversary of his life with the second post I wrote, nine years ago, which marked the first anniversary of his death. I will continue this blog, using the insights into our grief and my life since Thomas died, as well as marking the tenth anniversary of his funeral, and sharing the posts I have written for his subsequent birthdays and death-days. Please don't forget to support me in my training for the London Marathon, in memory of Thomas - just three weeks to go!!
When Oliver stirred in the early hours this day last year, Jason and I woke to the sight of our son Thomas lying lifeless in my arms. He was finally free from his pain and suffering and he no longer needed to endure being poked and prodded by doctors and nurses.
We were relieved that we no longer needed to watch his struggle to survive but equally grateful for his fight for life - to give us long enough to say our goodbyes, to make our memories and to give us a little longer to live our dream of being a family. We had been blessed with more time with him for us to try to imprint on our memories what his weight felt like in our arms, the warmth and softness of his skin, the rhythm of his heartbeat, the sound and touch of his breath in my ear as he snuggled cheek to cheek, the tickle of his hair and the noises he made.
We have spent the last month recalling our life with Thomas, reflecting on each day's events and emotions. Over the previous four months, in particular, I felt distanced from what a brilliant time we had together; how many smiles we had and how much we had laughed, and how blessed we were to have had him. These memories have revived themselves and lifted my spirits.
As Lucy and Oliver continue to talk about him and remember him, it is a symbol of how he is ingrained in who they are too. They continue to say good night to him before they go to sleep each evening as if he lies with them.
The fabulous memories of our time have reminded me how lucky we were to have what we had and how we have no regrets. This is what we have left.
It has also reminded me what a substantial amount of time 30 days is - when treasuring a whole month every single day at a time, it seems to last a lifetime, in fact it was Thomas' lifetime.
I also want to personally thank every single one of you who have contacted us one way or another over this past month. Everyone who has sent cards, emails, texts, phone calls, pictures. Everyone who has visited Thomas. Everyone who has given us gifts, flowers, plants, food. Everyone who has made tea, asked us how we are feeling and given us a hug. It has made us feel very humble.
I can honestly say that I am feeling in a much better place because of the extra support that surrounds us. I ask you please to not stop through the whole of the forthcoming year - even when I'm looking on top of it all, in control and happy. Whether we see you later today, next week, next month or next year - the pain does not stop or reside for us, we do not go through time when Thomas does not sit at the centre of who we are and what we do.
You may not be able to comprehend what we have and are going through unless you have been through the loss of a child but anyone who is a parent will understand what we have lost.
Keep his memory alive, keep him in your hearts and minds and above all please keep showing us that you care - we need to see it for us to know that it is there. We need to continue to hear you talk and ask about him to stop us feeling as isolated by the grief as we did.
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