Baby Loss

One More Minute: 60 ticks of the clock

Late last night during a restless night the current Child Bereavement UK campaign got me to the thinking. One more minute, what would you do if you had this?

Time….. Minutes, hours, days, even years. What do they really all add up to? Do they measure the importance of a life by its length of it? Is a life truly defined by how many seconds tick by on a clock? I don’t believe a life can be measured by its length, instead I believe life is defined by the impact that it has on the world and by the moments that matter, as humans we don’t remember time, we remember moments.

Yes, beyond any kind of doubt, minutes are important. They form each and every part of our day. They are the tiny constant building blocks in the background of our lives that stack together to create those moments. Without those minutes ticking by the moments would simply cease to exist.

But yet despite their significance, minutes are wasted, hundreds of them, every single day. Minutes come and go, without ever realising how important they could have been. Most people never live their life in the minutes, they spend it living in a different part of time. Looking backwards or forwards, worrying about what might happen or what once was. We as humans can do nothing about the things that have been or things that are yet to be, but yet these worries seem at the forefront of our daily lives.

Since losing Arthur, I have learnt in the hardest of ways that actually life doesn’t always go the way it was supposed to and despite your best efforts and all your planning, life can still come along and slap you in the face when you least expect it. Your world and all your hopes for the future can be changed in just one minute, your heart broken beyond repair. Arthur has taught me the importance of a single minute. A small moment in time. A minute, 60 tiny seconds, 60 ticks of a clock.

What can you really do in 60 seconds? What would you do? If you had just 60 tiny ticks of a clock with someone you loved, what would you say? What would you do? If you knew that was all you would ever have, would it be enough?

On reflection, whilst I know one minute would never truly be enough for me. Whilst I know I will always want more and that I will always yearn for the minutes and moments we will never have, but to have even just one minute on offer, one single minute, 60 small seconds, I would take it. Beyond any doubt I would take anything that was on offer, 1 minute, half a minute, even just 10 seconds or any second. I would trade every single thing that I could, just to have any amount of time, no matter how short with my little boy. Just to have that first minute, or any minute, thereafter.

To have just one more minute, I would tell Arthur I loved him, how proud I am to be his mummy and how thankful I am for every single second I did get with him. How much he has changed me and how he has given me so so much. How his short life mattered beyond any kind of measure and how he has taught me the true value of living within the minutes. Arthurs life was all to tragically cut short before it even had a chance to start in the outside world but that does not negate from its value or weight. Arthurs life may not have been long in minutes but it was so rich in moments. Moments I will treasure for the rest of my minutes.

Arthur, my wonderful boy, you gave me my understanding of the value of a single minute and I promise you that no matter how many more minutes I have, you will be part of them all. I carry you within my heart and for all those minutes that form together to create the moments of my life, you will be part of them all, you will always be loved and you are so deeply missed.

The loss is great, but the love is greater xx

2 thoughts on “One More Minute: 60 ticks of the clock

  1. You write heartbreakingly beautifully. If I had one more minute with our son, I would tell him how much we love him, how I’ll always think of him, how much we wanted him, how we’ll always be a family of four, even though most people only see three of us. I would also tell him how sorry I am, sorry to have made the decision we had to make to end the pregnancy because of how poorly he was. The guilt never leaves me. X


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