Another New Year

It’s now 2017, Oscar was born in 2014. Time has to move on, I get that, but I still find it hard to believe how quickly we are approaching three years since April 2014.

It’s funny, when I found out I was pregnant in July 2013, not for one second did I imagine this is where I would be now. That Oscar’s Story would be one of a few memories rather than a baby then child exploring the world around them.

That I would come to dread Christmas rather than being able to celebrate it with my child. That every New Year was just one step further away from the time when Oscar lived.

If you have ever lost anyone you cared deeply for, not necessarily a child, I think that is a common feeling. That moving on is something that you have to do, but you really don’t want to. 

Just imagine if you could live just a moment over again, just one and only a few seconds. I don’t know which moment I would choose, but I know it would be one I could share with Oscar. His birth and that first “perfect” day had so many moments that I could choose. I wonder though, if I would choose his last moments instead, so that I could say out loud all those things I thought in my head. In those last few precious seconds. Time machines don’t exist though. 

Despite the passage of time I am still coming across people who I have to tell about Oscar. In December I met an old neighbour who asked how my baby was. In the hopes of sidestepping the conversation, I said I didn’t have one (strictly true in that moment, it’s one of those sideways answers that I just about feel comfortable with.) But, people are persistent: “Yes, you did. You were pregnant, remember?” Of course I remember, I was just trying to avoid the awkward conversation. I then had to tell her about Oscar. Never a subject that I mind talking about, but you can normally visably see the other persons face fall and that expression which is something like a cross between “Shit, how do I get out of this conversation” and “I really hope she doesn’t start crying.” 

I also had someone ask if I had any children. I said “not anymore” which is my pretty standard answer. They replied “you’re lucky!” I know that they misheard my answer, but seriously? No I am not lucky in the slightest. That would be you, who is being driven mad by your child. You don’t know how lucky you are. 
I will admit that with that person, I did correct them and they were shocked and very apologetic. But, then I guess “I had a baby, he died. No, I’m not lucky at all” wasn’t really the response she was expecting. Most of the time I try to be tactful. Some of the time I wouldn’t have said anything at all,  but in that moment I was just missing my little boy and I kind of wanted someone else to feel just a part of that pain if only for a minute. Yes I am well aware that it is a little cruel of me, but she will forget. She will still have that perfect Christmas with her baby that I don’t get to have. And just maybe, she will think before she tells people that don’t have children that they are lucky. 

This is turning into something of a negative post, and if I’m honest not painting me in a particularly good light. It actually wasn’t my intention when I started writing, I just wanted to write something about the passing of time. I got a little bit off track, which is entirely within my character. I do that a lot. 

So, back to Oscar. Time passes, and memories fade. No matter how much I try to remember every detail, I am very aware that they are fading. But, that is why I am pleased that I started Oscar’s Story. My memories are safe and stored where they won’t be forgotten. That I can re-read and then remember all those special moments that made up Oscar’s lifetime. That maybe a little bit of that time machine magic exists in a way. 

 In April I will re-read the 23 days of my original (now private) blog and I plan to transfer them here (removing all the identifying details.) I planned to do this soon after I started this blog, but never got around to it. I’d also like the print those blog posts as a book (not published, just something for me) but I haven’t looked into the best way to do that yet. I may not have Oscar, but if the best I can have are physical reminders and memories, then for them I am grateful. 

Most of my posts have photos, but as was bound to happen I may have run out of ones that are postable that the Internet hasn’t already seen. 

Hopefully you will settle for a couple of cropped versions of old ones. 

Oscar had many a nickname, but one that I only used after her had died was “Baby expressions.” It’s not much of an exaggeration to say that no two photos of him have the same expression!