First Christmas

Christmas Eve 11 years ago – The first time I held my baby boy. He was 19 days old. In a hospital across the other side of London and we were still unsure if he would survive.

The pain I felt then was incredible.

All I wanted for Christmas was to hold my baby and to bring him home. For him to survive and experience a life outside of his Perspex box, monitors, tubes and needles.

Ian and I holding Lennon for the first time in NICU Chelsea and Westminster.

It is nothing compared to the pain I am feeling now. Facing my first Christmas without my first born child.

All I want for Christmas is Lennon. To see his face beaming at the sights of Christmas lights, feel

his hands slap me on the back as he watches his sisters getting excited for Santa and to watch him throwing spoons across the table while we eat Christmas dinner.

Enjoying the Christmas displays at Van Hages.
Christmas Day 2016.

In the run up to Christmas, every year my thoughts are consumed by our time spent at Chelsea and Westminster. Sitting over Lennon’s Perspex box, the monitors flashing and singing. Walking up and down the Fulham Road in between the tube station and the hospital, day after day. Christmas lights and charming decorations everywhere.

The shops full of gifts, and passers by full of Christmas cheer. The gigantic Christmas tree in the hospital lobby.

And me.

Entering the hospital with promise for the day ahead. Thoughts that today would be the day my baby would turn this around.

Leaving the hospital in a cloud of dark and sadness, reliving the awful events of each day.

Ever since Lennon’s birthday I have had an urge to return to Chelsea and Westminster. To retake my steps and see Christmas on the Fulham road.

Why? Because I am looking for something. I don’t know what. Maybe memories. But why am I looking for sad memories and not happy ones?

Christmas 2009.
Visiting Santa at Nene Valley Railway, 2011.
Christmas Day 2014.

Maybe because I have been consumed by sadness since Lennon died. There are glimmers of happiness there, occasionally. I try to hold on tightly to them, but they slip through my fingers so very quickly.

If I could hide in bed for the next few days, believe me I would. But I won’t – my girls need me. Ian needs me. My girls deserve to have the most fantastic Christmas and to know that their brother will be looking down on them, expecting them to be enjoying every second of Christmas. For themselves, and for him.

Christmas 2016.

He will be the sparkle in their eyes while they are opening presents, playing games and spreading joy.

I’ll look for that sparkle and hold on to it tightly.

Magic Kingdom, Florida, December 2015.

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