The Elephant In The Room
By Terry Kettering

There's an elephant in the room
It is large and squatting, so it is hard to get around it
Yet we squeeze by it with "How are you"? and "I'm fine,"
And a thousand other forms of trivial chatter.
We talk about the weather
We talk about work
We talk about everything else, except the elephant in the room.

There's an elephant in the room
We all know it's there
We are thinking about the elephant as we talk together.
It is constantly on our minds.
For, you see, it is a very large elephant.
It has hurt us all.

But we don't talk about the elephant in the room.
Oh please say his name
Oh please say his name again
Oh, please let's talk about the elephant in the room.

For if we talk about his death, perhaps we can talk about his life
Can I say his name to you and not have you look away?
For if I cannot, then you are leaving me....
Alone...
In a room...
With an elephant.

Another one of those WOW! poems.

Today, Friday 7 April 2006 is the date Michelle and I were given as our baby's due date. Today is the day that Bailey should have been born and made his entry into the world. It didn't happen that way and Bailey was born back on New Year's Eve. To mark the day we took a helium filled balloon up to his grave and released it into the air. Attached to the balloon, protected from the weather, was a photograph of the little man and an explanatory note of who Bailey was and why the balloon had been let loose.

It was pretty windy at the cemetery, which is fairly exposed and sits above the coastline, and the sky was heavy with cloud. At first the balloon looked like it might snag on the boundary hedge or even on one of the houses in the estate which surrounds the cemetery, but after a little dip the wind caught the balloon and it soared. Within seconds the balloon had cleared the cemetery and very quickly after that it would have passed over the coastline and out over the Irish Sea towards Scotland.

Michelle, Courtney and I stood and watched as the balloon went on it's way and rapidly grew smaller and smaller in our vision. Eventually it passed out of our sight and was lost to us.

Today is a day which for us is filled with all the usual questions of 'what if?' and 'why?', but it has also been a day when we could do something to feel close to our boy again. It's been a reminder, if any was needed, just how raw we are after the death of our son. We had thought that by now we would have been buying nappies and sterilising bottles rather than putting flowers on our son's grave which has already lost the bloom of newness that it once had.

One day we might see a note from the person who finds Bailey's balloon in the guestbook on this site. We will have to wait and see.

Since Bailey died I have worried about Nigel, Bailey's daddy. Nigel has been a real rock for me, and I couldn't have done without him. But Nigel is so busy being strong for me that he doesn't take time for himself. I found this poem and thought it fitted very well.

It must be very difficult, to be a man in grief

Since "men don't cry" and " men are strong"

No tears can bring relief

It must be very difficult to stand up to the test

And field the calls and visitors

So she can get some rest

They always ask if she's all right

And what she's going through

But seldom take his hand and ask,

"My friend, but how are you?"

He hears her crying in the night

And thinks his heart will break

He dries her tears and comforts her

But "stays strong" for her sake

It must be very difficult

To start each day anew

And try to be so very brave--

He lost his baby too.