Today I just want to share an account of something that happened to me during the week and which I’m certain will resonate with many parents out there who have a lost a child like myself. You see this week my partner and I took our little baby Dean on his first holiday and it turned out to be such an acutely stressful time that I still cannot fully unwind or let go. What happened during the week stoked and reinvigorated darker experiences from our past which, until the last few days, had lain dormant and hidden somewhere deeper within.

Last Monday we decided to get away for a much needed holiday and chose Galway and Connemara on the West Coast of Ireland as our destination – with Dean only being an 11 month old baby we didn’t want to go abroad or venture too far so it was a perfect choice. When we arrived the weather was terrible and none of us were in the best of form – including little Dean who was very contrary. But with a week ahead of us we decided to remain optimistic and to just enjoy the fact that we were away from normal life.

However, from the moment we entered our hotel, Dean was not himself. As before he was very contrary and just wouldn’t settle at all, whimpering and crying constantly. We took him to the pool, which he did enjoy, but no sooner had we returned when he began crying again. To make matters worse he wouldn’t take his bottle or any food, so trying to get him to sleep was a nightmare. The next day he was the same. From the first moment he woke he just whimpered and cried and yet again wouldn’t take his food or bottles. We tried him throughout the day and still he’d push the bottle or the spoon away. Only occasionally would he take a little mouthful of something or perhaps a bit of biscuit, but just nothing substantial. That night we endured another rough night of sleeplessness as Dean kept waking every 30 minutes or so.

The following day there was no improvement. His temperature seemed really high and so we headed to the chemist across from our hotel to get some nurofen and some information about doctors in the area. The pharmacist was very helpful indeed and actually rang a local GP on our behalf who duly arranged to see us straight away. This GP did a full examination on Dean and confirmed that he had an ‘extremely sore throat’. She advised that it was most likely a viral infection but – just in case it was bacterial – prescribed an antibiotic too. She gave him some nurofen in the surgery and then asked us to ring her later to see if we noticed any improvement or not. Dean certainly did perk up and even had a few oz of juice so we rang and told her so, which she was delighted with.

The next day however Dean was worse. His temperature remained consistently high despite the alternation of Calpol and Nurofen every three hours, and he just wouldn’t eat or drink a thing. That night he screamed and screamed in his cot until eventually we could take it no more. We decided we needed to bring him to A&E – we were just so concerned about him being dehydrated and the cause behind it. Listening to him scream like that and seeing him so sick had resurrected the experience of watching our first boy Craig suffering so many excruciating headaches due to the brain tumour that pushed out and grew relentlessly in his head. Listening to Dean brought all this back, and it traumatised us.

In the A&E Dean screamed even more distraughtly as the nurses held him to take blood samples and ready him for a drip. Again this struck such a terrifying chord with us. Not only because we were watching our little baby being subjected to so much, but because of how Dean’s life seemed to be following the same path as Craig’s: Just like Dean now, Craig had been admitted to hospital when he was the same age and with the same viral infection. Craig too had had to get blood tests and we had stood round him then while he screamed through it.

In the A&E with Dean, the present and the past seemed to resonate bringing with it a horrendous, guttural pang of the very worst fear. We were shaken. But in the end we got to leave the hospital that very same night just having to medicate Dean ourselves for the rest of the week and watch his condition. He did improve slowly day by day, form a dietary perspective, but was a nightmare to be around. He remained unsettled and out of sorts all week and the stress we all endured was so intense. But the worst part of it all was that night in the hospital – the fear and familiarity of it. It chilled us to the bone and we still haven’t been released from its grip.

I’m sure other parents out there can relate with this story and identify with the terror of which I speak. You see when you’ve lost a child you KNOW the worst can, and DOES, happen. What was once perhaps an extremely unlikely possibility, something to not even be considered, at once becomes an ever-present menace in your life. You see the shadow behind the thing and are aware of the fragility of life.

This is what we have to live with. This is what lies ahead . . .