No Beam of Light For Me

The funeral of a baby is never easy to attend, but then imagine it’s your baby. It’s your baby’s funeral.  Tuesday 3rd February 2015 I went through the ordeal of my son’s funeral.  Before the ‘event’ happened we had to plan his funeral. We had luck when finding a funeral director that specialised in infant death. He was a very kind and informative man; I guess he needed to be with what his job was. He asked Tim and I how we wanted the funeral and what we wanted. And to be honest Ryker had a very simple funeral. There was no big sha boom, it was simple and bright. We had asked all those that were attending to wear bright coloured clothing as I don’t see an infants funeral to be dark and gloomy. But to be filled with joy and light, for everything they could be. Why taint something so perfect with something so dark? You wouldn’t want to kill a flower or butterfly with pesticide.

We saw Ryker before the funeral at a little funeral home; he was dressed in his finest ‘suit’. We had bought it before we had given birth so it seemed fitting that he wore something that was purchased with love. He had his little socks on and a little blue tie. I can remember him as clearly as someone standing before me, I regret not having photo’s taken of him at the funeral, because it would be the last time any of our family would see his sweet little face.  The last time to cuddle, to just look, to look at the perfect little creature we made. Because that is what he was; perfect, eternal and simply lovely.

As a family; my partner Tim, mother, sister, niece, mother-in-laws, brother-in-law and a family friend we said our private goodbyes before heading to the cemetery. We had a small ceremony at the Infant’s Butterfly Garden at Karrakatta; those that attended were welcomed and supportive. They where what we needed on the day, not to be alone but to be loved by those who would. We lit a candle for Ryker, had poems read aloud and had a beautiful balloon release at the end of the ceremony. The ceremony itself was small and intimate; and I would not of changed a thing except to have my family from Queensland attended (my father and younger siblings could not attend).

I have never said this was my grief alone, I know every one of my family and friends have felt my grief in one way or another. Even if it was for a fleeting moment, they felt it. I can completely understand that they too hurt. But I am selfish. I am and will always put mine and my partner’s grief before theirs. I will not dwindle our grief to console others. As harsh as it may seem, their grief will not match our grief.

My little boy was cremated and a day later my partner and I went back to the Infant Butterfly Garden to ‘collect’ his urn. To bring our boy home for the first time. For the rest of my life I will tell you that was not the way I was meant to bring home my son.  He was meant to come home in a car seat. Something they never tell you when you cremate is that they give you a certificate to basically say what is inside the little urn. Maybe they do tell you, and maybe I was too out of it when I was told. But that was one of the little shocks I got when I bought my little boy home.

Regrettably writing about Ryker’s funeral I must inform you that on the day, there was no ‘Aha’ moment, no butterfly to console me, no beam of light, I didn’t feel my son near and that there was no happily ever after. I felt relief and a weight off my shoulders.  People tend to think that once the funeral has come and gone that everything will go back to normal. It will for everyone else, but unluckily it won’t for us.

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7 thoughts on “No Beam of Light For Me

  1. Thank you very sharing your intensely painful and personal loss of Baby Ryker. I have never lost a child myself but ever since my children were very young, I’ve lived with a severe auto-immune disease and we’ve had a few very scary false alarms where I’ve felt my children being wrench away from me and it was pure anguish. Fortunately, it didn’t eventuate.
    A good friend of mine lost a baby at birth when the cord was wrapped around her neck. She has shared her grief with me and what those early times were like and yet I can’t imagine it. Too awful for words.
    I saw a good model for grieving where the people who are further removed console those closer in and not the other way round. It makes a lot of sense, even if I haven’t explained it well.
    take care xx Rowena

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you for taking the time to read, I am sorry that you are suffering with a severe auto-immune disease.
      And you don’t need to explain the model of grieving to me, because I completely agree with you. Those further from the picture console to those in the picture. It helps to be recognised from strangers and not just family.
      Go easy on your self and take care xx

      Liked by 1 person

      • Sometimes, it is easier for strangers to get it than those who are closest to us, which is incredibly baffling but a truth. Where I think your journey could become difficult is once you go back to work and on the outside, your life looks like it always has and people beyond your immediate circle forget or just don’t know. Make assumptions. My friend found it very hard going back to work and then I’m sure people now look at her and class her as a “career woman” where she tried and tried to have another baby and it didn’t happen. You are still a Mum. No one can take that away from you. I’m sure Mother’s Day is going to be heartbreaking for you and everyone close to you. Take care xx Rowena

        Liked by 1 person

      • Yes, I’ve been dreading going back to work. Those who are oblivous tend to be the ones that ask the hard questions. I tell myself I’m prepared for it, but I know in reality I’m not. I have the fear that I will never have another baby, but I also fear that I will have another baby, that probably doesn’t make much sense.
        I think the lead up to Mother’s Day is harder than the day, I’m syking myself out in some ways.
        xx

        Liked by 1 person

      • When you return to work after an accident or serious illness, they usually have a gradual return to work. Work a few hours at first and slowly increase. Distraction can be very helpful but you don’t want to forget. Well, how can you? It’s just about survival and getting through…baby steps.
        Nobody knows the future and this is what drives me absolutely bonkers. I want to know. I don’t want to know. From what you’ve written, subsequent pregnancies will be high risk with high intervention. The plus side is that you now know what took your son’s life and so doctors can be prepared and you can benefit from some of the best medical support in the world. Care for premmie babies has improved so much. There is much to be hopeful and optimistic about while also feeling absolute terror.
        Just because you have another baby, doesn’t mean you love your son any less or are disloyal. This would be a second child.
        My kids are just having a brawl and dinner is ready so I’ll head off. Take care and lots of love, Rowena

        Liked by 1 person

      • Thank you Rowena, when people have told me “You’ll have another one you’re still young” They seem to imply I will replace the one I lost. I know I will never replace Ryker and when we do have another baby it will be Rykers sibling and not replacement. I will also continue to love Ryker as much as I will love any living children I may have one day.
        Have a good night
        Dneika xx

        Liked by 1 person

      • What I have found is that people really find it difficult to see someone suffer and they always have to throw in that positive. They mean well ands sometimes they have really thought hard about it and that crushing comment has been well-considered. I have a friend who has Motor Neurone disease and has already passed the expected 2-3 years post diagnosis. Even after everything I’ve been through and my incredible frustrations with people who don’t get it, I look at her smiling on FB and have to really slap myself to remind me that she is not okay. There is some incredible psychology involved with how people do and don’t come to terms with the suffering and losses of others.

        Liked by 1 person

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