Jonathan, My Son — A Letter I Never Got to Finish

Have you ever written a letter to your baby or child who has passed away?

Or, maybe keep a journal where you share your memories and life's everyday joys and tears. This was written by one of our team members who endured the loss of her baby boy at 17 weeks & 4 days.

Jonathan, my darling boy, my quiet little heartbeat who slipped away before the world ever knew your name —I carried you for 3 days, 11 hours, and 27 minutes after they told me you had gone.

In those hours, I held you in the only way I could: inside me, close to my ribs, wrapped in the warmth of a mother who wasn’t ready to let go. I would never have been ready to let go!

When you were born sleeping, I saw your tiny foot, your tiny hand —perfect, delicate, the smallest proof that you were real, that you were mine.And in that moment, my heart broke in a way I will never fully mend.

I never got to kiss you, Jonathan. Not your forehead, not your cheek, not your tiny fingers. I never got to hold you the way a mother should. They took you from the room, and that was the last time my eyes ever found you.

You were cremated with other little babies — a truth that still stings in places I cannot name. But your ashes rest now in the baby garden, where your memorial stands, where your name is held gently by the earth itself.

Jonathan, my son, I speak to you in the quiet moments, in the spaces where grief softens just enough for love to breathe. I tell you that you mattered, that your life — however brief — changed mine forever.

I carry you still in the places no one can see: the ache behind my smile, in the tremble of my hands, in the part of my soul that will always be shaped like your tiny foot, your tiny hand.

Goodbye before hello is the hardest story a mother can ever tell. But Jonathan, my darling boy, you will always be my son, my love, my forever.

Thank you for being a part of my life 💙 every second, every day, I carry you in my heart forever, son.

Love Mummy