fatherhood
Afather’s
was dead. I was distraught that our son was dead. All those dreams that I’d had of watching my son grow up were never going to come true now. But my son no longer had tubes, wires, syringes, drips and monitors coming out of every available space on his tiny body. He was no longer uncomfortable, he was no longer in pain, he didn’t have to fight anymore and he no longer had to carry the burden of expectation that we had all placed on him over the last forty-two days. He was free. I loved him so much but I wouldn’t have wanted him to exist just for
W 20MODERNMUM Summer 2016
hat was I thinking when Tom died? Relief. It is not as callous as it sounds. I wasn’t pleased that our son
perspective
Alex Roberts' premature baby son, Tom, died at 42 days old. In his new book ‘Changing Perspectives’, Alex talks gives a candid, sometimes humorous, but ultimately heartbreaking account of how Tom’s loss affected him as a father...
our gratification, we had to let him go. Tom had been taken to that better place we had been told about by the nuns at school. If we had spent our lives turning up at 10.30 every Sunday morning, the least we could get out of it was the knowledge that Tom had taken the fast track. He was to bypass any inquisition at the Pearly Gates. He had a VIP backstage pass. We believed in paradise and now Tom had been chosen to live there without having to go through any more. He had already done so much in his short life that he had been spared. Te rest of us weren’t that lucky. Tey say your whole life flashes before your eyes the moment before you die. Tom had only really seen the insides of his own eyelids.
Te funeral We pulled up to the church and the place was packed. I was expecting a few family and friends. But this? If I were to fall off my perch any time in the next sixty years, would I have had as great an impact on as many people as the boy I am carrying in a box? I doubt it. Ten-foot tall and bulletproof. I was
untouchable. Before the funeral I had worried that I wouldn’t cope, that I wouldn’t be able to carry the coffin despite the fantastic funeral director reassuring me that I would be fine. Hell, I knew I would be fine. I was worried about Tom. Up until that point I had not managed to do anything
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