On your first birthday

But here we are, Ottilie, on your first birthday and I can’t tell you anything about how much you have grown, you are frozen in time with your rose bud lips and button nose, forever. 

I can’t tell you when you took your first steps or what a messy eater you are. I can’t complain that you won’t sleep or that you keep outgrowing the fabulous clothes I have picked out for you. You would have had such a  great wardrobe by now. I can’t tell you about the party we have thrown for you today with all your friends and family spoiling you rotten; well actually I couldn’t tell you that even if you were here because global pandemics don’t allow for jelly and ice cream gatherings. 

What I can tell you about is how much you have taught me in the longest and shortest year of my life. 

I never knew a word could sound as sweet as hearing your name. Ottilie. A very dear friend told me to pick a name that I would be happy shouting out in the park when my kid was running away. She was right. I can’t think of anything more wonderful than to hear my voice calling “Ottilie” as your little legs carried you off.  

I love to hear other people say your name as much as I love to see it written down. There is even comfort in seeing “Ottilie Eve Ingram” on your wooden memorial star. 

A broken heart hurts like nothing I’ve known. I didn’t expect the physical pain, long after the stitches had healed the tightness in my chest remained. A deep, drawing, suffocating pain that can wash over me again in an instant, but doesn’t happen so often now. I talked about feeling like my heart had shattered and I was scrabbling around to try and put the pieces back together. They are starting to take a form now, but will never go back in the same order and there will always be a hole left by your absence. 

Shared experience is a tonic like no other. It is so desperately sad that I already had people in my life that really understood how it felt to lose you. To hear the honest truth from two Mums who could simply say “I know” was so important in the first few weeks. Since then I have found a whole new tribe of incredible women who also know. Like a soothing balm, we hold each other with no judgement, a deep understanding and inspire strength in each other to move forward. It’s a funny story actually because it all started with a running club, and we all know that I am no runner. It turns out that doesn’t matter at all. 

You were born into a community of the most incredible people. Our family and friends were so excited to meet you. Our closest ones were able to do that in the hospital before we had to say goodbye and I will be forever thankful for that time we all had together. Time to drink in your presence. You were hypnotic, drawing all of our attention for every second we could spend with you. I often hear stories of people being abandoned by people who can’t face their reality, but not us. We have been wrapped in the warmest blanket of love by so many people that we will never be able to really thank, not enough.  

There is strength in these things I have learned from you, Ottilie. For all the babies that never get to open their eyes, I will tell your story. It might be because I want to hear your name, it might be because it helps soothe the pain, but none of that matters if sharing our experience with you means other people feel better too.     

I miss you, sweet Ottilie, and will forever do what I can to be the best Mummy I can be.