George Boucher-Brown

Perfect beautiful tiny George, born too soon. So very much wanted and so missed.


Our son George died and was born on October 20th 2008 after 21 weeks of pregnancy.

One year without George:
http://barbaraboucher.blogspot.com/2009/10/george.html

5th March.

George should have been born sometime this week pink and screaming and taken home alive.


I'll never get to know the scent of his warm head.

My sweet spring baby.

I write a blog about my life without George at www.barbaraboucher.blogspot.com please come and say
hello.

My friend Carly has a wonderful support site at
http://whisperedsupport.blogspot.com/ for us babylost parents.

I wrote a letter to my lost son:


My darling George,


My son, my baby, my poppet, my lost child...

It's been almost a month now and I miss you.

I wanted to feel you move more than I did. I wanted to see you move my belly. I wanted to talk to
you knowing you could hear me from inside. I wanted to feel your reactions to your daddy's hand and
voice more than that one time when he put his hand on my belly and you wriggled, it was wonderful. I
wanted to get fatter and complain about my back. I wanted to feel impatient to meet you.

I wanted your birth to be happy and healthy not filled with pain and sadness. I wanted to feel the
pain of real, happy labour and give birth to you not too soon but at just the right time. I wanted
to see your eyes open and hear your cry. I wanted the time to find out which bits you got from me
and which from your daddy. I wanted to breastfeed you and feel that bond. I wanted to take you home.
I wanted the sleepless nights. I wanted to stare at the miracle of you made with love.

I wanted to see you discover the world and smile when it made sense. I wanted to show you so many
things. I wanted us to discover the leaves on the trees and the boats on the sea as a family. I
wanted to play with you for hours and forget the housework. I wanted to giggle and be silly with
you. I wanted to proudly push you in your buggy. "This is my son George, isn't he the most
handsome?" I wanted to hear you say "daddy" and "mummy" for the first time. I wanted to give you so
many cuddles and hugs and kisses. I wanted to get to know you, to see your personality develop and
assert itself. I wanted to help you be as you as you could be.

I wanted to let you run wild because sometimes it's good to feel wild and free. I wanted to
encourage your mischievous nature. You would have had one: mummy and daddy do. I wanted to try to
answer your endless questions. I wanted to protect you from the horrors of this world. I wanted you
to feel safe.

I wanted to worry about you as you started school. I wanted you to enjoy learning. I wanted you to
feel you could do anything. I wanted you to be able to find your way in life. I wanted you to have
adventures.

I wanted to teach you about love and respect and kindness so that when you bought your first
girlfriend home we would know you were behaving like a gentleman, just like your father. I wanted to
meet your first girlfriend... and your second... I wanted to cry when you got married and cry when I
saw my first grandchild for the first time.

But whatever path you decided on in your life I wanted to support you.

I wanted to grow old knowing I had done the best I could for you.

I will always love you.
I will always miss you.
I will never forget you.

Your Mummy.




We two, how long we were fool'd,
Now transmuted, we swiftly escape as Nature escapes,
We are Nature, long have we been absent, but now we return,
We become plants, trunks, foliage, roots, bark,
We are bedded in the ground, we are rocks,
We are oaks, we grow in the openings side by side,
We browse, we are two among the wild herds spontaneous as any,
We are two fishes swimming in the sea together,
We are what locust blossoms are, we drop scent around lanes mornings
and evenings,
We are also the coarse smut of beasts, vegetables, minerals,
We are two predatory hawks, we soar above and look down,
We are two resplendent suns, we it is who balance ourselves orbic
and stellar, we are as two comets,
We prowl fang'd and four-footed in the woods, we spring on prey,
We are two clouds forenoons and afternoons driving overhead,
We are seas mingling, we are two of those cheerful waves rolling
over each other and interwetting each other,
We are what the atmosphere is, transparent, receptive, pervious, impervious,
We are snow, rain, cold, darkness, we are each product and influence
of the globe,
We have circled and circled till we have arrived home again, we two,
We have voided all but freedom and all but our own joy.



W. H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.