Mornings and nights are the toughest. It’s when the world feels like it has stopped for you. Finally it stops. Finally it grieves for you and acknowledges that you have lost your baby. The night time silence is ear piercing. Deafening. You toss and turn all night. I still have to sleep with the pillows all set up around me like I had when Mason was still inside me even though he no longer lives there. The morning comes next where you have a brief moment of feeling “ok”, whatever “ok” means and then BANG.. your chest suddenly feels tight, heavy, like you can’t breathe and absolute sadness stabs you in the chest. Another day has come to remind you again to feel loss, to feel robbed, to feel incomplete and to realise that Mason is missing.
The next morning after Mason’s last day was uneventful. The house was clean from family looking after it while we were at hospital with Mason. I love cleaning. I pride myself on being a clean freak, of the beds always made (sometimes with Saunders still in it), the cushions neatly and evenly placed on the couch, the house smelling of Amalfi Coast Glasshouse Candles. I get a kick of cleaning toilets, ask Saunders. If a toilet isn’t clean, it’s not a clean house. There was literally nothing for me to do.
My biggest fear after losing Mason was coming home to “triggers”. Things that would set me off, things that would make my shattered heart shatter again into a trillion pieces, like the nursery. I LOVED the nursery. When I was pregnant I lived in the nursery making sure everything was perfect. That nursery was made with so much love. Saunders worked so hard to get it perfect for me. For Mason. Blood sweat and tears went into making sure the polka dots were evenly spaced on the feature wall. Again thank you Saunders for listening to my demands. But then again you wouldn’t want to go against me let alone a pregnant lady!
I would sit on the reading chair below, pregnant belly and all, probably a mouth full of cheese and yell out to Saunders “ROW THREE DOT 4 NEEDS TO BE HIGHER”. It took 4 hours but we….I mean Saunders got there.
I wanted the nursery to be neutral. I am not a girly girl. I love black and white. I don’t do pink. (I would tell family and friends I didn’t want the typical blue for boys and pink for girls clothes). So I settled for grey and white, plus it would be perfect for the next baby after Mason, whatever gender it would be. How could I get rid of this room? How could I hide it? How could I close the door? This room is meant for Mason. It is Mason’s room. He has been in this room, from the very start, inside me watching this room unfold. So the first thing I did was walked into Mason’s room and sat in that reading chair.
I didn’t feel sad. I didn’t feel happy. I didn’t feel anything. I felt numb. I love this room and I don’t want it to be just a closed door. I started unpacking the brand new Mimco Baby Bag (a mother’s must have baby bag and I couldn’t wait to parade it around) that my girlfriends bought for me. I put away all Mason’s belongings, his clothes, nappies, booties, hats (which I laughed at because these little hats wouldn’t fit around Mason’s little finger), baby creams and shampoos. Still feeling nothing. Mason has the best clothes. My pay each week literally went into buying Mason baby Nikes, Chucks, denim jackets, flat top hats. Mason had better fashion than his parents. Mason had more clothes than his parents and that’s a massive effort if you saw my wardrobe.
As I was packing Mason’s belongings away, Saunders was outside unscrewing the baby seat in my car for me, trying to get it quickly removed so I wouldn’t have to see it when I was getting in and out of the car or when I was driving. I knew that would have been so hard for him. I remember Saunders asking me to remind him to buy a mirror facing Mason when he was in the car seat so Saunders could look at him from his rear view mirror when driving. I don’t have to remind him anymore. Saunders placed the car seat together with the pram that was stored in the boot in our shed. Saunders would always say over and over that when he would come home from work, he would take Mason for a walk in the pram around the block (to give me a break from the day and some “me time”) and to bond with Mason. He was so excited. He was so looking forward to that time with Mason, but instead he had to fold the pram up and store it away. That broke my heart.
I unpacked Mason’s last day outfit, the blue cardigan and the star jumpsuit and placed them in Mason’s cot. Ugh that little blue cardigan. Just so adorable. So cute. Mason’s colour blue. I picked them up again and smelt them. They smelt like Mason. The scent so sweet and comforting. I will never ever wash these clothes. I felt so close to him smelling his scent. There is nothing like baby smell. Its heaven.
As soon as I left the hospital I became obsessed and fixated on ways of keeping Mason alive and remembering him. I had even bought a star online in the back seat of the car leaving the hospital because stars reminded me of Mason and I knew he was going there. (Little did I know, friends and family had also started buying stars for Mason when news broke that Mason had passed and now he has like 6 stars!!!) His jumpsuit he wore was printed with stars, the memory quilt the Pastoral Care lady at the hospital gave us had stars on it and I saw a shooting star.
I organised for Mason’s hands and feet to be moulded. I organised for Mason’s fingerprints and ashes to be turned into jewellery for Saunders and I.
I had researched a glass company to turn Mason’s ashes into gorgeous glass memorial domes instead of the typical urn.
(The swirls of white in the glass are the ashes. Memorialglass.com.au)
I went to Kmart several times in a day printing out Mason’s photos, buying frames to put them in which would litter our whole house. I didn’t want Mason to be gone. I started having a fear that I would forget Mason. That everyone would forget Mason. I started fearing that I wouldn’t think of Mason as much as I should have, even though I think about Mason every second. I made a photo book of Mason’s life. I printed copies for friends and families so they wouldn’t forget Mason.
I JUST DIDN’T WANT MASON TO BE FORGOTTEN.
I cleared the hallway table and turned it into Mason’s table. It will be the home to his ashes. It has photos, candles, Mason’s little trinkets. Saunders and I made it a nightly ritual to light a candle every night for Mason.
We also said every Thursday night will be Mason night or date night where we would celebrate Mason’s life as he was born on a Thursday. We also agreed that whenever Saunders and I were out for a meal or where drinks were present we would “cheers” to Mason before taking a sip. I even bought this website address with the idea of recording every single memory and detail of Mason’s life to use one day. To make sure it wasn’t taken. I was obsessed. I felt like I was going crazy. I was running around trying to preserve as much as I could have Mason. I hadn’t even organised the funeral yet.
(My bedside table. Mason is the first thing I see when I wake up)
My dear Mason, my beautiful baby boy. I will never ever forget you, replace you, stop loving you, stop thinking about you. I will never ever stop. I physically can’t. My mind and heart will never ever switch off. I am your mummy and you are my beautiful baby boy, my number one. My little mummy’s boy. I promise you I will keep you alive, I will tell everyone and anyone about you. I want everyone to meet you. I am so proud of you and I will give you the best funeral that you so rightly deserve. You only get one chance to get it right, to make it perfect, to give your baby the best last goodbye…. and for you baby boy, my little bubba man, as your mother I will do anything for you.