Remember I mentioned this video? Probably not, I had like -7 readers then... It's a post where I questioned whether I loved on Jack enough... Whether he knew it. Whether I kissed him enough...
Well I finally figured out how to download my video to my computer. It took WAY too long, but likely was complicated by my debilitating fear I would screw something up and lose the video forever. I then figured out how to upload it here, to share with all of you.
I won't apologize for the fact I look like shit, nor will I apologize for my voice or how annoying our baby talk is. What can I say? We were in love. :)
I do, however, apologize if this brings tears to your eyes or upsets you in any way. As Caroline put it so poetically in the comments a few days ago;
"Sometimes I find myself almost jealous that you gave birth to a living baby and have pictures of him alive (inappropriate of me? Possibly), and then other times, I can't believe the level of heartache you had to endure".
I totally understand where that comes from, and I take no offense at all (how could I? Caroline is the sweetest lady EVER). I know what it's like in that while I know I am ridiculously lucky to have had Jack, born alive, in some strange way I'm jealous of BLMs who had their kids longer than I did... Jealous is the wrong word I think, but I totally get it.
We all wish we had more, because what we had was certainly not enough. Carrying them isn't enough, a day isn't enough, a week isn't enough, three months, six months, nine months... It's just not enough.
As I have said before, I am thankful for those few precious hours and moments and days we had with him. And the living photos and the video that showed he was alive and fussy.. It's a gift to have, it honestly is.
So I hope this doesn't cause anyone more pain, and feel free not to watch. But if you want to know what two brand new, know absolutely nothing parents did with their kid one random night in January (the last one before we lost him), take a look. :)
Dear Giacomo (your nickname, even though we're not even nearly Italian),
It's been six months since I held your body, hugged you tight, and then let you go forever. In that moment, of last touching you, last kissing, last being able to physically shower love on you, your mum lost a big part of herself. You are forever our baby boy, and forever loved and adored. There just aren't enough words to tell you how much you are missed, how much you are wanted, and how much I can not wait until we're together again one day.
Love you forever,