Letters to Georgie, Parenting, Writing
Comments 9

I am it all…

For those who know me in person, I know that you find it strange.

I am sure you asked yourself how come my posts and pictures are so emotionally heavy yet my day-to-day countenance so “normal.”

How come I can joke and be silly and give off about the most banal of things while in the same time I mourn the loss of my precious son.

I do because I am it all:

1. I am the grieving mother who cracks up every single day in the safety of her home and the sacredness of her kitchen and cries until the knot of pain unties, just for that day, just to be able to breathe.

2. I am the angry mother who beeps her horn( I did it on Monday, in my weak defense) and calls you “lazy bum” if you park in the middle of the road at school run times. Because I have no tolerance not patience, nor do I understand why apparently healthy individuals choose to not walk an extra fifty steps.

3. I am the mummy whose heart weeps behind the mandatory smiles when people ask how I am. It weeps like the north wall of a badly built house. Constantly, maybe not visibly to the human eye but always weeping.

4. I am the mummy who orders extra and fancy bits for her daughter’s Bento box. Because I have only one child now and I have every right and feel the need to spoil her.

5. I am the mummy who thinks right ahead of Christmas and Halloween and birthdays and plans ahead. Christmas wreathes to remind us of our missing boy. Computer programs that will create the illusion of a Christmas-attired sweet Georgie. Birthday presents for Emma sent on behalf of a loving little brother.

6. I am the mummy whose heart sinks at the sight of the most trivial of things. The same blue baby blanket. The mums and tots sign across the road. A tiny beetle. The corner of a baby book. A group +1, from 9 months on, baby car seat. A Christmas card featuring a baby bear.

7. I am also the mummy who shout and screams and rants. Sometimes at my family. Sometimes at God. At the same sacred kitchen sink.

8. I am the mummy who doesn’t want to burden you with my pain so I choose not to share the whole of my experience with you. I can’t tell you how lonely or sad or terrified of having another baby I truly am. How the word “death” in the same sentence with the word “child” makes me physically queasy and wanting to run from the room, like I almost did last week, when we had to sort our life and critical illness insurance.

9. How desperately non-innocent I feel. Not bitter. Not street wise. Maybe the right term would be “life wise.” Once you witness unanswered prayer and the death of your precious baby child ALL your innocence and your belief in healing and fairies and happily ever afters dissipate like mist.

10. How tired of living I sometimes feel, having to carry all these burdens on my shoulders at all times, yet function like a “normal” mummy and wife and friend.

 PicMonkey Collage-GeorgieThis is what I have to live with, every single day.

These pictures are my treasures and my comfort and a reminder of what we lost. So, so much, we lost…


  1. Hello Oana! Indeed, you are it all, and I am amazed you keep your positive attitude and the spirit of moving forward in the midst of the grief, pain and answered questions. You are a strong mom.

    • Thank you, Matthew.Please let your mum read this and my other posts about Georgie, I think it is important for her to understand, in view of our upcoming visit and my desire to talk about my boy with the family.xx

  2. I don’t know how you cope Oana, I truly dont, but you do and are doing and you Miss lady are a true true inspiration to so many! Much MUCH love to you. xx

  3. Sorry, I missed this post. I hear where you’re coming from. Just do what you need to do, shout at who you want to shout at and anything else that gets you through. Love xxxx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s