Last night it was important for me to go to the hospital to visit someone I love who is very ill. As we waited to go in to the room, a tiny baby in an incubator was rushed past us. Suddenly, I was right back in that time when my daughter Hannah died eight years ago. The same hospital, the same corridors, the same waiting and waiting, not knowing what was going to happen and when. The waiting seemed to last forever.
Hannah would have been eight last Sunday. I couldn't figure out how I was feeling. Empty was the only word I had. But last night, in that same hospital, I figured it out. Right now, I am angry. So angry. Hannah never had a fighting chance.The medical knowledge that might have saved her life is just not commonly available. When I say this, it is not about blame but a simple statement of the reality.But as I saw that tiny baby all I wanted to do was roll back the years and have someone, anyone, give Hannah that fighting chance that she never had. I wanted to hold her in my arms and will her heart to beat and her lungs to breathe. I wanted to bring her home in my arms and not in a box. I wanted to wake up this morning and hear her voice and comb her hair. All the things I cannot do...
I have learned that no peace comes from fighting these natural feelings. So down I went into the anger and the pain. And up I came again in the certain knowledge that Hannah WILL be remembered. Her name will sit proudly in our family tree. She will be recognised for the gift she was and is to us. We will not compound the pain of her death by silence and secrecy. Hannah is my daughter. Yes she died. But she also lived and she will not be forgotten.
Hannah would have been eight last Sunday. I couldn't figure out how I was feeling. Empty was the only word I had. But last night, in that same hospital, I figured it out. Right now, I am angry. So angry. Hannah never had a fighting chance.The medical knowledge that might have saved her life is just not commonly available. When I say this, it is not about blame but a simple statement of the reality.But as I saw that tiny baby all I wanted to do was roll back the years and have someone, anyone, give Hannah that fighting chance that she never had. I wanted to hold her in my arms and will her heart to beat and her lungs to breathe. I wanted to bring her home in my arms and not in a box. I wanted to wake up this morning and hear her voice and comb her hair. All the things I cannot do...
I have learned that no peace comes from fighting these natural feelings. So down I went into the anger and the pain. And up I came again in the certain knowledge that Hannah WILL be remembered. Her name will sit proudly in our family tree. She will be recognised for the gift she was and is to us. We will not compound the pain of her death by silence and secrecy. Hannah is my daughter. Yes she died. But she also lived and she will not be forgotten.
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