Say his name
James William Cecil Datson Watt
This is my first story outside of poets and is deeply personal to me. It was written recently in a response to the writing prompt 'anniversary'. It is about my beautiful son, James. He was with us for all too short a time but has left indelible marks not only on mine and his father's lives but many others as well. James is who made me a mother, even though I don't get to watch him grow up, and he is still a source of inspiration for me, in my art, my poetry, and my life. Whenever I see a butterfly, I know James is there, sending me love and watching over me.
I have posted this here in Families, as to me, James is the only son I will ever have. It's just my family story is one of grief and love. I hope after reading this, you will help me remember James by saying his name with me.
It is James’ anniversary this month, well two really. It is both his birthday and death day, within two days of each other. You see my son, James, was born at 24 weeks gestation. My waters had broken at 22 weeks and my little warrior held on for 2 more weeks because he knew they would only try to save his life from 24 weeks on. James heard this, held on, and was born at 7.04 am weighing 555 grams, 24 July 2015, at exactly 24 weeks. Unfortunately for him and us, he was born with a very bad brain hemorrhage. If it had been smaller, the brain could have absorbed the blood, but it was too large, James already had permanent brain damage.
So, we did the hardest thing any parent has to do but also the kindest thing we could do for him, turned off his care, 2 days later, 26 July 2015. He died on his father’s chest with his Mummy kissing him at approximately 8.35 pm. His Grandma, Uncle, Aunty, and a cousin all got to say goodbye to him first. Then after, when Daddy had to go, oh he was so brave, Mummy and Grandma washed him, with his Uncle looking on. Then we dressed him in a beautiful angel gown. That gown I will remember forever, it looked like an Elvis suit from the 1970’s, all sequins and dazzle, James was cremated looking like the king.
There are so many things that are sad about what happened. I could name many but the most important ones are: I never got to experience being fully pregnant, you don’t know how much I was looking forward to being fat and awkward at 40 weeks; I never got to watch my son grow up, and all that entails, nor did his Father, Grandparents, Aunties, Uncles or cousins; I have had at least two miscarriages since James, so no rainbow baby for me; I will probably never be a mother, I’m 45 and peri-menopausal; and, I have no descendants, beyond nephews and nieces to carry on my name.
Losing a child is such an ineffable experience and not one I ever hoped to do but I had no choice in the matter. In the end James’ father and I did the best parents can do for their children – we gave him love. James was made with love, born with love, and died surrounded by love. What more could we do?
James William Cecil Datson Watt 24/07/15 – 26/07/15, the two most important anniversaries I have. Help me remember my son, say his name with me, and everyone else who loves him, on these dates.
Light, love
About the Creator
Emma Datson
I am 40ish, medically interesting, Australian poet, who is finally using her voice. My superpower is my vocabulary. Dive in and read an eclectic mix of poetry and creative non-fiction, full of love, grief and hope. Light, love
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More stories from Emma Datson and writers in Families and other communities.
"Timmy and Rosie: The Tale of Friendship and Determination"
Sometime in the distant past, in a rich green woodland settled between two moving slopes, there carried on with a turtle named Timmy and a hare named Rosie. Timmy was without rushing, while Rosie was quick and vigorous. Regardless of their disparities, they were awesome of companions. Consistently, Timmy and Rosie would play together in the timberland, investigating everywhere, and having great undertakings. Timmy would trudge along consistently, while Rosie would jump and avoid ahead, her unfathomable energy moving her forward. One radiant morning, as they were playing close to the edge of the timberland, they coincidentally found a sign reporting a race through the backwoods to see who was the quickest creature. Invigorated at the possibility of a well disposed rivalry, Rosie quickly proclaimed that she would enter the race. Timmy, notwithstanding, delayed. "I'm not extremely quick," he said, his voice slow and insightful. "I don't think I have a potential for success against the wide range of various creatures." Be that as it may, Rosie wouldn't know about it. "Nonsense!" she shouted, her eyes shimmering earnestly. "We'll enter the race together, Timmy. We might be unique, yet together we can achieve anything!" Thus, with Rosie's support, Timmy hesitantly consented to enter the race. As the day of the race drew nearer, the backwoods hummed with energy, and creatures from all over accumulated to watch the opposition. At the point when the race at long last started, Rosie shot out of the beginning line like a bat out of hell, leaving a path of residue afterward. Timmy, consistent with his temperament, started to trudge along at his own consistent speed, never floundering or neglecting to focus on the way forward. As the race advanced, Rosie dashed ahead, overwhelming an endless series of creatures, her speed unrivaled by some other animal in the timberland. However, as she arrived at the midpoint, she understood something was off-base. She was depleted and winded, her legs hurting from the determined speed. In the interim, Timmy kept on trudging along consistently, his assurance relentless. He might not have been the quickest, however not set in stone to complete the race regardless of anything. As Rosie battled to pause and rest, she heard a natural voice shouting to her. It was Timmy, gradually advancing towards her. With reestablished assurance, Rosie drove herself to her feet and joined Timmy on the way. Together, next to each other, Timmy and Rosie crossed the end goal connected at the hip, to the cheers and praise of the whole woods. While they might not have come out on top in the race, they had accomplished something far more prominent - they had shown that fellowship, assurance, and cooperation can conquer any snag. Also, from that day forward, Timmy and Rosie kept on investigating the backwoods together, their companionship more grounded than at any other time, and their hearts loaded up with the delight of knowing that together, they could achieve anything. As the sun set over the backwoods, Timmy and Rosie sat together under a tall oak tree, considering their experience. Rosie checked out at Timmy with deference in her eyes. "You might not have been the quickest, Timmy, however you were not entirely settled," she said, grinning energetically. "I could never have completed the race without you close by." Timmy grinned back, his shell glimmering in the blurring daylight. "Furthermore, I could never have done it without you, Rosie," he answered. "You instructed me that occasionally, there's no need to focus on how quick you go, yet about daring to continue onward, regardless." From that day forward, Timmy and Rosie's fellowship developed much further, as they kept on investigating the miracles of the woods together. What's more, however they might have been different in numerous ways, they realize that their bond was solid, and that together, they could vanquish any test that came their direction. Thus, in the core of the lavish green timberland, the turtle and the hare lived joyfully ever later, their fellowship a brilliant illustration of the force of collaboration, assurance, or more all, adoration.
By Nameless writer4 days ago in Families
Stuck in Place
Amy whistled as she walked through her front yard, looking for any sticks she could pick up and throw into the pile she and her brother were making. They had a big windstorm recently; as such, all the trees in their yard had suffered some damage in some loss of sticks. Or perhaps losing those sticks was a good thing since their trees probably needed to be pruned anyway. Amy wasn't sure.
By Rebecca Patton6 days ago in Fiction
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