We are coming to the end of baby loss awareness month and this time I think I’ll be glad to see the back of it. I totally embraced it the first couple of years after Conor died. Reading all the stories and seeing candles lit gave me a sense of community. I felt less alone in my loneliness. I have found the month of October tough the last couple of years. Now when I read all the stories and see the photos of other babies who have died I find it overwhelming. There are so many stories that mirror ours. I revisit memories that I didn’t invite back. “Just don’t read them” I hear you advise. Yet, somehow I am drawn to them. It’s like an addiction. I don’t know how many times I clicked refresh during the Wave of Light Day on 15th October but I couldn’t stop. Tears flowed freely and left me exhausted. This new life with grief is so unpredictable. Just when I think I am on the right track I am thrown off course and for a while grief takes over. I am ready to say goodbye to October and take charge for a while.

Lighting our candle during the Wave of Light gave us an opportunity to speak about Conor with his little (now a busy and chatty 3 year old) brother. It gave him an outlet for questions; “can we get another Conor, one who isn’t dead?”….then came the question I hadn’t prepared for “what happened to Conor?” The truth is I barely understand what happened and have only recently stopped asking this question myself. I sought advice from the online community I had recently been addicted to. I wanted my answer to reflect both our true story and our cultural beliefs. I also didn’t want to scare a sensitive 3 year old. The question was asked again another day;

3 year old; “Mummy what happened to Conor?”

Me; “Conor’s body stopped working when he was in Mummy’s tummy”

3 year old; “but why?”

Me; “we don’t know”

3 year old “but why?”….

I thought I had to give my inquisitive 3 year old a definite answer but there isn’t one. Sometimes in life we just “don’t know” and that’s the challenge for all of us.