Sweet William - Song and Video

"Sweet William" is written and performed by The Low Tide Drifters.

This song was written just for William, and it is an amazing gift for me to share it. What a beautiful legacy, to know someone is singing my heart and others are hearing his name every time they play it.

Thank you, Kate and Nate. There aren't words to tell you how grateful I am.

SWEET WILLIAM

Sweet William came one silent night and stole our bated breath
The image of his mother; his father’s shining best
The stillness of his body left a hole once filled by joy
Softly kiss the velvet cheek of your perfect little boy

Chorus:
So I rock your memory gently, goodnight stars and goodnight moon
Like iron to a lodestone, I’ll meet you someday soon

Sweet William wore his grandpas’ names and he twined two family trees
Mourn now for the babe in arms and the man he’ll never be
Inside the womb he kicked and thrived and dreamed the dreams of life
Cradled in his mama’s voice, he waited for the light.

Chorus

Sweet William, we’ll remember you, though we’ll never understand
Why some souls settle quickly down and others never land
Sweet William know your mama and your daddy love so
Though you’ll remain forever young, in our hearts you’ll always grow.

Chorus

Repeat Chorus

© 2009 Katherine Downing and Nathan Moore

2009 Year in Review

January 2009, I was pregnant with William. I turned thirty-nine. It looked to be a truly lovely year. 

February 2009, my father had a stroke and died. 

April 2009, William was stillborn. 

September 2009, we were pregnant again. And then we weren't. 

November 2009, deja vu. Positive pregnancy test and then...  

January 1 2010. William has now been dead as long as he was alive in my womb. Gone, really, really gone.

I don't know what 2010 has in store for us, but my resolution this year is "Accept and Surrender." I've been brought to my knees enough, I think, I should just stay there.

Forty...soon

I turn forty on January 22. It's coming up, as we enter 2010. I had my first baby when I was twenty. She's a grown-up girl now, recently engaged, working on finishing school and probably already thinking about having babies of her own.

Am I crazy to be contemplating another baby at my age? Probably. My littlest kids (ages 7 and 8 now) aren't so very little anymore. I've said before, when we conceived William, that I felt like someone was missing from our family. And now, of course, someone really is. Was that what I was feeling? What a horrifying thought... that I was "missing" a soul I would lose and miss forever?

I don't feel the same anymore. Like someone else is missing. I don't have a sense or feeling, like I did with William, of someone out there, waiting to come. Maybe that's a sign. Maybe I should just stop with the charting and the trying and the testing and the obsessing. Maybe I should wait to be a grandmother. :)

But that mother part of me is very strong. Losing William has made me even more conscious of how long I've been a mother, and how much a part of me my mothering really is. I don't need to mother another baby. But I would like to. I very much would love to have... just one more. Yes, I'm blessed, yes I've had four beautiful, healthy babies. And still, I want.

Maybe this momentous birthday will bring me a wonderful present. Maybe. I do still have hope.

Christmas Morning

Thank you all very much for making my Christmas morning so very blessed and full by remembering William with me.

We received and read almost 100 messages from friends and family on Christmas morning. I cried, I laughed, and cried some more. I read William's name over and over and whispered the names of other lost babies on that morning and remembered them, too.

I will keep these messages in his stocking for next year, and in my heart, forever. I will probably read them every Christmas morning from now on until the paper they are written on is yellowed and the type faded. I will hold every one of your gifts close.

I can't tell you how much it means. There aren't words.

Serendipity

Today I went shopping for William's stocking. The first two places had nothing I wanted or was interested in. I had something in mind and wasn't finding it. Then I did:

Right above it, I found something else. Ever since his death, the two things that really make William "real" to me are the lock of his hair and his handprint on my husband's drum. 

I knew it was perfect when I brought it home and looked at M's face when he saw it. And of course, I'd just been saying I didn't even have an ornament for little William. My only regret was that it wasn't personalized with his name. 

Then the most amazing thing happened and in the mail came this from another sweet, kind baby-loss mama who remembered my William:

It's just so delicate and elegant and perfect.

I didn't get to keep my baby, and I didn't get to announce a pregnancy this holiday (negative tests filling my drawer and today it's official, I will be bleeding through Christmas Day, I imagine... *sigh* Back to the drawing board...) but the friends I've made out of these tragic circumstances are truly such a blessing.

That much I did get, and I am so grateful. More grateful than I could ever say.

Friends, I Need Your Help...

I sent this out on Facebook and thought I would ask here as well...

****

My Dear Friends,

As Christmas day approaches I know that it will be a difficult day for me to get through without the love and support of those around us. This would have been William's first Christmas and we feel his absence so very much during the holidays.

Please consider a moment to send an email or note:

I am going to get a special Christmas stocking for William. The hope is to fill it with heartfelt notes from those who wish to help us in remembering our son. Knowing that your child is not forgotten is the best gift you can give a bereaved mother. The notes really have no guideline, just write what you feel. You can write to William, to me, to our family. It doesn’t have to be more than a sentence really. The point is just to remember him with us on Christmas. The smallest gesture carries the biggest comfort and love in the hardest of times. I figured this is a great way for all those around me to love and support me through this holiday without actually having to be here or call me as I know all of us have families to be with. On Christmas morning I will print the notes and we will read them and put them in William's stocking.

I want to say that there is no need to censor your writings or be afraid that I will be sad in talking about William. Nothing makes me sadder than the fact that he is not here with us, and remembering him brings some peace to my heart. I encourage all of you to just write what is in your heart, if you had things that you wish you could have said to William, me, or our family then I ask you to do so. It can help you as much as it helps me. I appreciate any notes or thoughts that are sent. I will hold them all very close to my heart!

So here is how I am going to accomplish this:

Please send me an email to inannajourney@gmail.com with “FOR WILLIAM – DO NOT READ UNTIL CHRISTMAS” in the subject line. I will read them on Christmas Day. I will be checking for the last notes on Christmas morning, so send them any time until then.

Thank you again for everything and helping me remember William and helping me during these holidays when it will be so very hard not to think of him.

*** To all the angel mommies and daddies (etc.) out there reading this, I know that all of us have a rough time during the holidays. I wanted to share this idea with you all. If you are going to do this or something close to this, please send me a message and let me know as I would be honored to write each and every one of you a little note about your baby/babies. Please feel free to copy and paste this letter with the appropriate changes... it isn't mine, it's been borrowed and permission has been given. I hope we all find some peace during the holidays and feel the love of not only our angels but those in our lives too. Thank you again!

The Golden Egg

Sometimes, when you share your dreams, it's like you let the air out of them. They end up sounding silly or strange outside of the space of your soul. Sometimes telling a dream diminishes it.

I don't want to do that to this dream, but it was, truly, too much of a gift not to share.

I gave birth to a golden egg.

I was expecting a baby, but I birthed an egg. It was smooth and soft, unbelievably soft, seamless and heavy. I thought it must be solid gold, it weighed so much. I was thrilled and amazed by this change in circumstance, and even more surprised with the egg opened and my baby was inside. It wasn't William--this was a new baby, a tiny little girl, cradled inside the egg. She had an incredible light about her, mostly I think from the egg, which kind of glowed, and when I lifted her up, she didn't cry but her eyes were open and dark and looking straight at me, into me, and for the first time since his death, I really felt William's presence, not his baby-self that I knew oh-so-briefly for the nine months I carried him, but the core of who he was, the "who" he would have been as a boy and a man - the "who" he had been before we conceived him and who he became after his death. I felt him very particularly in the light of the egg surrounding his sister, touching me, that light that had been holding (protecting?) her and it was pure gold, just absolute light and warmth, and I'd never known such peace or perfection in my life.

The baby began to cry, then, and I knew she was fully in and of this world at that moment, and I was glad, but so grateful, so very grateful for the gift of her brother's presence.

I couldn't have been a greater gift this Christmas than this dream. Thank you, William.

Maybe I am carrying his little sister (or brother) even now. What a blessing that would be. I'm nine days past ovulation tomorrow and hoping, again, still.

I'm not asking for miracles.Well... maybe just a tiny one. One tiny little miracle. I hope it's not too much to ask.