Letters to Georgie, Writing
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On grief, anger and pain

It’s been two months since my baby died.

I remember reading this post back in July, on the 5th, the day my baby died, and having no clue about grief. How could I have had?

The numbness wore off.

The numbness that followed the indescribable pain of watching my sweet son die. The baby that I longed for with fierceness, the boy who was so bright and was meant to become a doctor and save so many lives, according to his doting Bica. My mini me…

And numbness was followed by anger and searing pain. In a chaotic and overwhelming melange of emotions and feelings.

I have been angry. With everyone. With myself. With God. With Alex. With Emma. With people saying things. With people not saying things. With pregnant women. With women with babies. With people sending me shitty links meant to “guide” me through my grieving process. “Spiritual” links. With people staring dumb-folded when I say I lost my baby. 

But do you know what has been the overwhelming feeling since the numbness wore off?


I feel like an emotional sieve.

Everything I live filters through the sieve of loss.

My baby’s absence is “present” there at any given time.

In McDonald’s, while Emma is chatting to me about school. And I know Georgie will never attend school.

In church, while the speaker talks about the healing powers of God and my mind screams: “Shut up, shut up, shut up!!!What do you know? He didn’t heal MY baby. Acknowledge the exceptions! Be real! Remember MY son, don’t just talk generalities and platitudes!”

In the car, in the parking lot, in the coffee shop, in bed, in the shower, in my sleep…

Nothing can fill me. Not one single thing.

Joy, laughing, joking, shopping, travelling, going out? 

EVERYTHING seeps away through the holes in my sieve.

Nothing holds.


Except for a tiny voice coming from deep, very deep within telling me in my moments of peace. In the moments I worship. In the moments I allow myself to cry.

Telling me my baby is ok. That doesn’t make my pain ok. Or his loss ok. But for a few split seconds, the comfort of knowing he is well and he is safe and he is happy where he is makes me feel at peace. Just for a few seconds. Just for a wee while.

And then, the storm rages on again within. And my sieve gets empty, once again.

IMG_9662Oh, to hold you one more time, sweetheart.

To feel your warmth and look into your eyes and see your precious, precious smile!

One day, son, one day.

Mummy loves you and hasn’t forgotten about you. She longs to be with you. And one day, she will. Just wait for me at the heaven’s door when the time comes, ok? Cause only then this mama with be ok, once again.xx




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