In every tree there sits a bird

There are a few parts to my disjointed post today. The first part which won't make much sense until the end is about a dear dear friend who just said goodbye to her angel on Friday. Her heartbreak is huge and unbearable and one I feel deeply for her because I have had to say goodbye to my own sweet boy. When she left the hospital it was snowing. So much snow. Snowflakes all around her. No birds, no rainbows or sunshine, a lot of snow.

Now most of you know this wonderful mommy and her beautiful rainbow. She gave birth to her daughter at 38 weeks and had to say goodbye that day. One beautiful thing about this story is her rainbow. This mom sees more rainbows than I think I have ever ever seen in my entire life. And every time she sees a rainbow she thinks of Mackenzie. And every time I see a rainbow I think of Mackenzie. And every time a hundred people across the country see a rainbow, they think of her beautiful Mackenzie. And it's perfect and wonderful and fitting.

And I must say sometimes it makes me a little sad.

I never really talked about Thomas when I was going through it. It's only been since I started this blog that I really realised I needed to talk about him. But I was scared to. I was afraid that I would be dismissed, that my grief and pain and ultimately the life of my son would be dismissed and therefore unvalidated. I guess I’m still afraid to talk about my Thomas. Afraid that he will be discounted because he wasn’t a “real” baby. And I couldn’t bear anybody to think that because to me he was perfect.

When that little 2 inch one-dimensional vaguely baby-shaped white blob came out attached to the placenta, I knew that was the remains of my perfect baby. Squished by his larger brother from week 16-40, fluids drawn out, compacted, and grown into the placenta which provided life for Charlie, Thomas is still my baby. I carried him for 9 months. It just so happens that for 5 of those he wasn’t living. And I could not bare to take the chance that people would think these things about Thomas. But that just caused me to feel even more lonely. How could people think about him when they didn't know about him??

So I am posting this. I have had this in my head for a long time, but have never told a single living soul. Not even Matthew.

I sing a song to Paul every night before bed. And every time I sing it I think of my Thomas.

In every tree there sits a bird,

singing a song of love

In every tree there sits a bird,

and every one I’ve ever heard,

could break your heart without a word,

Singing a song of love

The song of love is a sad song,

Hi lily hi lily hi lo

The song of love is a song of woe,

don’t ask me how I know

The song of love is a sad song,

for I have loved and it’s so

I sit at the window and watch the rain,

 hi lily hi lily hi lo

Tomorrow I’ll probably love again,

hi lily hi lily hi lo

And every time I see a sparrow I think of my baby. Sitting in a tree, watching over us, singing a beautiful but ever so sad song. And all the other sparrows in the tree are other lost babies singing away. Making the world cheerier. Strong, beautiful in their simplicity, cheery, tiny little birds.

I can never touch a sparrow. If I tried it would fly away. They sit in the tree, but remain forever out of reach. You can't hold a sparrow. And you can't touch a rainbow. They're beautiful and sparkly and full of joy and love. And they shine, out of reach, never touchable. And if you tried to hold a snowflake it would just... melt away. The snowflake is perfect and unique and beautiful and intricate, and fleeting. Sparrows, rainbows, snowflakes, each perfect, each beautiful, each cruel and heartbreaking in their fleeting and unreachable ways.

So when you see a little sparrow, maybe give a little thought for my boy. Let him know you love his song. And give a little thought of me, living without my boy, and of Charlie, living his life without his beautiful and perfect twin.