Looking back on my Facebook posts I see a picture from five years ago. It’s my son, aged six months, covered in chocolate. It brings back such happy memories about my smiley, happy boy. And then it makes my heart hurt because all I have left of my baby is photos.
On 7th March 2013 Maison, aged seven months, died from suffocating on a nappy sack. My whole world was turned upside down in one morning from an item a lot of parents think is a nursery essential.
Walking into Maison’s room to find him will always haunt me, it’s not something I want anyone else to have to do. He had a nappy sack over his mouth and a few around the top of his cot. I screamed and called 999 but it all gets a bit blurry from then onwards.
I remember not being able to do CPR, I was so scared and in shock. My husband Martyn had to take over and I just stood uselessly watching him.
I remember standing in the kitchen ringing my mum and saying Maison was dead. She came straight over and arrived around about the same time the extra paramedics did. I went in the ambulance with Maison but couldn’t sit in the back as part of me knew he was gone already.
I spent every second hoping I was wrong, hoping my baby would wake up and cry. No-one had ever mentioned the noises someone having CPR performed makes and all these little sounds gave me hope he would be ok.
Martyn wasn’t allowed to leave our home as the police showed up. This was something I didn’t know until much later so I was left all alone and terrified.
I remember someone handing me a chair in A&E so I could watch a huge team work on my baby. A woman stood next to me explaining it all but her words wouldn’t register. The main image I remember is someone saying, “it’s been over an hour” and then the look on everyone’s faces.
I was taken into a side room for them to give me the news. Maison had died.
There isn’t a word to explain how you feel when you lose a child.
My mum and nan arrived next followed by Martyn and his mum. Other close family also came to say goodbye to Maison while we had him blessed.
Holding him was one of the hardest …