31/07/2026
Today, my little boy should be 13.
Thirteen years old.
I wonder what you would have looked like. Would you have been taller than me by now? Would your voice have started to break? What colour were your eyes? Did you have my smile? Would your laugh have filled our home?
They’re questions I’ll carry for the rest of my life, because I never got the chance to know.
I never heard you cry.
I never heard you say “Mum”
I never watched you take your first steps or start school.
I never got to watch you grow into the teenager you should be today.
I never felt your arms wrap around me.
That’s the cruelty of baby loss. You’re not only grieving the baby you lost - you’re grieving every birthday, every milestone, every version of the person they were meant to become.
Today should have been about cake, presents, friends and making memories.
Instead, I’ll be buying birthday cakes for children whose families might otherwise go without, because every child deserves to feel celebrated on their birthday. I’ll be taking flowers to a baby memorial garden, because it’s the closest thing I have to somewhere to wish you a happy birthday.
Thirteen years have passed, but not a single day has passed without you being loved.
You changed my life without ever speaking a word.
Happy 13th birthday, Oliver.
You should be here. Always 🤍
