I wish that you understood how sad it is for us still.
I wish that you didn’t try and comfort me by saying that we’ll have more children. That hurts.
I wish that you don’t expect me to be strong. That hurts too.
I wish that you wouldn’t tell me to try and move on. That hurts even more.
i wish that you missed Cameron as much as I do.
I wish that you realised just how precious he is to me.
I wish that you might understand that being pregnant again doesn’t make things better.
I wish that you knew how we still grieve so.
I wish that I could cry in front of you as I need to cry.
I wish that I didn’t have to hide my pain in front of you.
I wish that you won’t tell me to try and not ‘think too much’. That also hurts.
I wish that you can understand that my thoughts and feelings are beyond my control.
I wish that you don’t try and be cheerful around me.
I wish that you don’t try to cheer me up. Nothing can cheer us up.
I wish that you won’t automatically suggest counselling when you see me cry and grieve. That hurts so much.
I wish that you can accept that sadness and grief is normal. It is okay. It is simply a part of life.
I wish that you would just weep with me and mourn with me. That would mean so much to me.
I wish that you would be happy to talk about Cameron with me. That would mean the world to me. Why shouldn’t I want to talk about my son? Do you talk to other parents and not mention their child?
I wish you knew that even when I am not crying on the outside, I am still grieving on the inside.
I wish you knew that even when I’m laughing, I’m still crying.
I wish you understood how debilitating grief can be. If I don’t come to something, it’s not that I don’t care. It’s simply that I can’t.
I wish that you won’t try and pretend that losing Cameron didn’t happen.
I wish you would understand that he’s irreplaceable.
I wish you could understand just how much I love him and miss him.
I wish you could understand that that is the way it should be. Because I’m his mother.
I wish you didn’t try and make it sound like you understand what I’m going through. You don’t. Not unless you’ve actually gone through what I’ve gone through.
I wish you didn’t try to make things better by pointing out the ‘good’ that we have. The ‘good’ is separate from our pain and suffering. It hurts when you do that. So please don’t do that. I’m already hurting so much.
I hope you don’t expect our grief to be over in six months or even six years. Cameron is our child. Not having him is something we have to face every day for the rest of our lives.
I hope that you don’t expect me to go back to being my ‘old self’. That old me is gone now. Things are changed forever. I can never go back.
I hope that when I see you next, you will just be sad with me.
I hope that the next time I see you, things might be different.
I hope that one day you might understand.