The little heartbreaker

Who steals into your heart

With magical touch

Who ensnares your love

In a wee angel clutch.

Who makes you a slave

And a worshipper too

Who gets adoration

So lavish and true

Who plays with your heartstrings

Like a champion love-maker

Nobody but baby

The little heartbreaker .

A poem sent to by Kim, mummy to angel Charlie.

The Dance

Looking back, on the memory, of

The dance we shared beneath the stars above

For a moment all the world was right

How could I have known you'd ever say goodbye

And now I'm glad I didn't know

The way it all would end the way it all would go

Our lives are better left to chance

I could have missed the pain

But I'd of had to miss the dance

Holding you I held everything

For a moment wasn't I the king

But if I'd only known how the king would fall

Hey, who's to say, you know I might have changed it all

And now I'm glad I didn't know

The way it all would end the way it all would go

Our lives are better left to chance

I could have missed the pain

But I'd of had to miss the dance

Yes my life is better left to chance

I could have missed the pain but I'd of had to miss the dance.

A Grieving Parent is...

A grieving parent is someone who will never forget their child no matter how painful memories are.

A grieving parent is someone who yearns to be with their dead but cannot concieve leaving their living ones.

A grieving parent is someone who has part of a heart as the rest has gone with their child.

A grieving parent is someone who begs for relief from the memories which plague them and then feel guilty when they get it.

A grieving parent is someone who pretends to be happy and enjoying life when they are really dying inside.

A grieving parent someone who can cry or laugh at the drop of a hat whenever they remember their beloved child.

A grieving parent is someone who feels as if they have just lost their child yesterday no matter how much time has passed.

A grieving parent is someone who fears for their remaining family because they cannot bear to have any more loss.

A grieving parent is someone who sits by their child's grave and feels a knife stabbing their heart.

A grieving parent is someone who wants to help others who have lost a loved one because somehow others loss is theirs all over again.

When Bailey died we realised that we had lost a unique little boy. Even the medical staff, who had worked with him and fought so hard to keep him with us, remarked that he was a very special little boy, the like of which they just don't see.

Michelle and I wanted to do something for Bailey which would reflect his uniqueness, and so were unable to settle for an ordinary headstone, which would make his grave indistinguishable from that of an adult from any distance. We wanted to mark his grave with a stone that would stand out among those around it. After some searching of websites and travelling round various monumental sculptors local to us we found the stone we wanted, and a stone which satisfied the criteria we had set for ourselves. We knew that this would be one of our last chances to do something lasting for our son and with this in mind we made sure that we got this right. The stone we chose is a black granite, polished to a high shine, the field for the legend being oval. To the left side is a bear, standing and peeping around the stone at top left, with his front paws holding the stone to the top and left of the stone. The bear is roughly cut from the same piece of stone and the roughness of the cutting gives the impression of grey fur, contrasting well with the main body of the stone. The bear has polished eyes and nose. When we ordered the headstone we were told that it would have to be imported from quarries in either China or India, dependant on the colour of stone we chose, and that this distance would factor in a significant time delay between the order and the erection of the finished memorial. We weren't to be shaken though because we had set our hearts on this particular stone and because we knew that there would be months before the stone was ready we would just have to be patient, because the end result would make up for any waiting time. Our monumental mason has now erected Bailey's headstone on the grave. Michelle visited the grave yesterday in the early afternoon, and was bitterly disappointed to find that no work had been started after earlier promises that the memorial would be in place that day. In the evening we took part in a quiz in the village's church hall and this ended around 9:30 pm. In the darkness and coastal dampness of the night we decided to visit the grave once more to check that there had been no further movement, before we wrote to complain to the mason today. Even the beginning of the foundation for the headstone would have placated us and made us be patient once more. Pulling into the cemetery in the pitch darkness, with only our headlights to illuminate the graveyard we struggled to see our boy's plot. I stopped the car and got out and then I could see a shape above where the grave is. I was stunned to make out the shape of the bears ears as the bear clings to the side of the stone. I called to Michelle and Courtney that the stone was up and looked (in the dark) finished. After peering through the dakness at the stone, with only the light from our mobile phones to see by, I returned to the car and brought it round so that the headlights would light it up and let us see. We stood in amazement as we looked for the first time at the stone we had waited for so long to see that would mark the grave of our dear, unique and brave son. Naturally, there were tears, but as well as the tears being full of grief, there was also a healthy mixture of pride in knowing that we had done the right thing to wait for something very special for our boy, and also much relief that the wait was over. Michelle called her sister and a couple of good friends to let them know that the headstone was in place, and within a short time there was a little crowd at Bailey's grave side. As we stood in the darkness admiring the headstone, Michelle, Courtney, and I, each saw a shooting star racing across the sky. Three shooting stars within a period of five minutes or so! We returned to the cemetery this morning get a better view in the daylight and to us the stone is perfect, exactly what we wanted. We now have our son's uniqueness mirrored in the stone which marks his grave.

The yellow band on my wrist

The band I wear on my wrist is bright yellow,

And it's worn in honour of my brave little fellow,

A baby so loved, a baby so missed,

With me every day through the band on my wrist.

We loved him; you know, our little bear,

We love him still, though he's no longer there,

He's in our hearts and there he’ll stay,

And we will love him every day.

The sleepless nights, the teething and tears,

I’d welcome them all; I’d endure them for years,

If it meant that my son was able to stay,

Instead of him going that terrible day.

And so this band I’ll continue to wear,

And when people ask, I’ll continue to share,

My baby so loved, my baby so missed,

But with me forever through the band on my wrist.

Written by Nigel, Bailey's daddy.

I would if I could

I can still feel the heat that filled the room,

And still smell the soap I scrubbed with,

I would still react if I heard "X-ray please

And still perch on that stool.

I can still hear the machine pumping away,

And still read the dials and displays,

I can still hear alarms and buzzing lights,

And still see the monitored pulse.

I would still help to soothe my kicking boy

And still staunch the blood from his heel.

I would still comfort my raging son

And still rub his crumpled brow.

I would still drink the water and read from a book,

And still will my boy to survive,

I could still make the phone call in the dead of night

And still speak of doctors with praise.

I would help with his nappy, or washing him down,

And I'd help while they put in new lines,

I would sing to him when we were alone,

And he would ignore me again.

I can still see him refusing to look until the light was dim,

And I'd catch him slyly sneaking a peek,

I would tell him that his dad was here, and how I'd always stay,

And he'd raise his eyebrow to agree.

I could get from the car park to ICU without having to open my eyes,

And buzz at the door to be let in, in my half conscious haze,

I could smile as they greet me and usher me in,

To my boy in his perspex house.

But my boy is not there, and I visit no more,

But I would 'til I ended my days,

My son was a big man, courageous and bold,

A winner, up 'til the end.

So now we must mourn you, for all of our days,

And wonder what might have been,

Our son, so tiny, yet so full of life,

Inspiring to all he had seen.

Written by Bailey's daddy, Nigel.