Today I held my Little Mister a little closer. He stayed in my arms for a little longer, and I pressed my skin against his a little more often.
When his face lit up because something had made him happy, or when he looked up and smiled at me, he made me ache a little inside. When I watched him playing with his toys, or saw him concentrating on getting the best bit of his teething ring in his mouth, I felt a lump in my throat. When he sucked intently on his rusk, or held his arms to me because he wanted to be held, that dull ache was there.
My Little Mister, not quite seven months old, is completely dependent on me, on Tony. If he is hungry, if he is tired, if he is feeling sad or unwell – he needs us. Because he is a baby, and he deserves for us to always put him first. And we do. Without thought, without question. And at the same time, we love him so much it makes me catch my breath.
To think then of those babies that have been so badly let down, has left me today broken-hearted. It has left me sickened, and at a loss. To think of their suffering, to think of how they were loved during their too-short lives, is unbearable and incomprehensible.
When he wakes tonight, I will hold my Little Mister again, for a little longer. And I will treasure a little more my precious, so-much-loved little bundle. Inside, that ache that comes from loving him so much will still be there. And so too will that ache that comes from thinking of the little ones who deserved so much more.