Ever find yourself talking about your baby and looking up to find people almost wincing at your story? This is something that bothers me everyday.
We should be allowed to talk about, sing about, shout about our children alive or not if we want too yet it’s taboo for many, and many don’t talk about their children in fear of upsetting others or making people feel uncomfortable ( I still kind of do this myself) so from today onwards I am going to try and make a point of talking about Macauley as easily as I would if I were talking about Harvey. Harvey is my eldest, he is 5 and very beautiful and crazy, he loves his little brother all the world and he talks about him whenever he feels like it too whoever that will listen. There’s something very admirable about that so I’m going to take a leaf out of Harvey’s book and talk about Macauley.
I have a son called Macauley, he was born on the 7th April and he is absolutely stunningly beautiful, a perfect mix of me and his dad, as much as I hate to admit it he has my grumpy mouth and chin and his dad’s cute little button nose. When pregnant he kept me eating egg fried rice and drinking oasis citrus punch. He used to think it was funny when the midwife was trying to find him so we could hear his little heartbeat to run off and dodge the sonicaid for a good 5 minutes before he’d give up with a cheeky nudge to me. I love my son all the world and just because I’m talking about him doesn’t mean I am immediately talking about his death.
And even if I was talking about his death what’s so wrong with that anyway?