AlisonBelinda's Fotothing

14 years ago today my first son, James, died. It's funny to think he would have been a raging hormone now, and that we have all that to look forward to when George turns 14 next year.

The night after James' birth; I spent most of the night pacing from my room to the Special Care Baby Unit, willing James to be OK, hoping he would live. And on one of these visits I was allowed to hold him for the first time. If I keep quiet long enough, I can still feel the weight of him (he was 9.5lbs), and the heat of his body in my arms. He was on full ventilation, and other than his chest filling with oxygen, he was still and silent. It was a very precious moment for me, the first time I held my son outside my body.

The little Birthday candle is my representation of James in the world, a tiny flame to the world, but he shone true and bright to those who wanted him, and to those who loved him. While taking the photo I marvelled at the power of this tiny little candle. The room lit up around me, but as I became aware of the heat on my fingertips, I knew it was time to put out the flame.

James' life ended in much the same way. Knowing it was time to say goodbye, that all that could be done for him, had been done, that he would never survive the mass of drugs he needed to keep his little body going. The the oxygen deprivation his brain had suffered during his birth meant his brain couldn't function any part of his body even with support he had been given for his 26 hours outside my body.

Watching his life support being removed was like watching him being born again, slowly seeing parts of him that were covered with wires and plasters, seeing his ears for the first time, the colour of his eyes (I asked a nurse to open his eye so I could see the colour, he couldn't open his eyes by himself), the shape of his beautiful little mouth, his chubby cheeks...he was perfect, and he was mine.

I held him as he died, he didn't move, cry or take a breath, but slowly darkened in colour as what little pumped oxygen in his body left him. We wrapped him up so his limp body would be contained, although I removed some of the blankets and clothing, so I could see more of his skin. I could see where the bruising on his chest from the CPR was trying to form on his little body, and it truly hit home how much he had suffered.

He didn't deserve to suffer or to die, but I am glad he was with us for those 26 hours. Enough time to watch him, and touch him, and to reinforce the memories I have of him.

James, who is resting in peace, forever.