Two Weeks

We said our final physical goodbyes to Aneurin yesterday. His funeral was very simple and intimate with just our parents, grandma and our siblings. We didn’t want a big, elaborate thing and I’m glad we made that decision because it was just perfect. A car came to pick us up and we sat in the back with our son between us. It sounds strange and at first I thought I wasn’t sure if I liked the idea but as with everything, I’m glad we did it. It felt nice to be able to share his last journey with him; his mum and dad literally taking him there.

His coffin was beautiful. Covered in white cloth embossed with flowers and a silver plaque that read; 
Baby Aneurin Davies
Born Asleep
31st July 2015
We drove the whole way there holding hands on the top of it. When the car pulled up and I saw it sitting there in the back of the car my legs gave way and I honestly didn’t know how I would be able to do it but I knew I had to do it for him. All other choices and decisions for his life have been taken away from us but this was the one thing we could do for him.

It was really difficult. Seeing my beautiful, brave husband carrying our baby’s tiny coffin is an image I will never get out of my head. It fit so neatly in his arms. We laid a little bouquet of sweet peas my mother in law picked from her garden on top. I don’t think I took my eyes off his coffin once. Our vicar was wonderful. She married us and it seemed right she lead the service for him. We had written a little tribute to him but obviously neither of us were capable of reading it so she did it for us as well as a poem my mum found. Watching the curtains close was awful, I couldn’t breathe. I know it’s symbolic and necessary for closure but all I could think was ‘I am never going to see my son again’.

Knowing my baby is physically gone is…I can’t think of a word. Heartbreaking just doesn’t cover it. I feel completely empty. I continue to be amazed at how incredible being pregnant felt. It was tough and exhausting and I felt like shite 90% of the time but growing this little life inside of me that was purely made up of me and the person I love so fiercely is insane. He didn’t exist and then he did and he had little pink fingernails and thick fluffy dark hair. It felt like magic. And now that’s gone. He’s gone and I have no idea what I’m meant to do. It feels so cruel that something we wanted so desperately and never thought we would have could be snatched away so quickly. It’s a strange feeling only having known your child being a part of you because we never knew what it was like to know him outside of my body. He spent his whole life with me and will always be a part of me but knowing his physical body has gone is still difficult.

There’s nothing left to do now but live our lives and right now that seems so impossible. I’ve made a list of things to do over the next few weeks so we have something to focus on. Mostly just bits around the house including deciding what we want to do with Aneurin’s bedroom. Thankfully we hadn’t even nearly finished it yet so it’s not a big a task as it could have been. We’ve decided to send back the big items but things like clothes we’re going to keep and hopefully make use of in the future. I’ve also had all the photos we took in the hospital printed along with all my bump photos and various ones from my pregnancy to put in a scrapbook. We were given a SANDS memory box in the hospital where all the little bits like his cot card, my hospital bracelet and such are so we’ll keep the scrapbook in there. All the beautiful cards we’ve been given will go in there too. It also contains my most precious thing in the world at the minute; a card that has his hand and footprints in along with a cutting of his hair and his tiny hospital ID bracelet. I look at it every day. Mostly to marvel at how bloody enormous his feet were haha! Having all these things in one place is lovely because it means we’re not caught off guard discovering something without meaning to but when we want to we can sit down and just get lost in our boy for a while. I hope that one day we’ll sit down with our second child and show them just how precious and loved their big brother was.

Little Snowdrop
The world may never notice
If a snowdrop doesn’t bloom,
Or even pause to wonder
If the petals fall too soon.
But every life that ever forms,
Or ever comes to be,
Touches the world in some small way
For all eternity.
The little one we longed for
Was swiftly here and gone.
But the love that was then planted
Is a light that still shines on.
And though our arms are empty
Our hearts know what to do.
For every beating of our hearts
Says that we love you.


  1. August 14, 2015 / 9:17 pm

    I can't begin to imagine how difficult this must have been for you. My thoughts are with you and your family xx

  2. August 16, 2015 / 12:01 am

    I'm so so sorry. It just doesn't seem fair what has happened to you and your family.
    He sounds like an absolute cutie pie.
    Love & hugs to you all & little pea. X

  3. Anonymous
    August 17, 2015 / 8:44 pm

    You are very much in my thoughts. Just had a good cry reading this- I've not been through this but have had 4 miscarriages.
    It just isn't fair. Lots of love xxx

  4. August 17, 2015 / 9:12 pm

    I have read tis with tears streaming down my face. I am so, so sorry for the loss of your beautiful boy. Rest in peace, little Pea. X

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