By Linda Fisher
Each of the stories in this series about my pioneering Holmes family ancestors, were assignments I wrote while doing a Diploma in Family History. We were given a basic idea and a writing style to follow for each piece of writing. This time I have jumped ahead to 1890. This story was to be written in first person, about a tragedy. I wrote about Emma losing her 14th child.
I lay in bed in the darkened room, holding the body of my deceased baby boy, Benjamin Alfred. Beside me was the little coffin my husband Lawrence had made.
The doctor had already given the cause of death as inanition.
My poor little bubba, such a short life. How could a child of mine have died of malnutrition?
I looked at the face of my tiny son and wondered….maybe his birth three days ago was too early, maybe my milk was no good, or maybe I was too old to be having babies. I am in my 41st year after all, and had given birth to 14 children since the first, Harriet, when I was 17 in 1866.
Lawrence came into the room, and sat on the bed beside me. He held my hand, and together we looked at our tiny son. After a moment of silent prayer, Lawrence took the baby from my arms and lowered him into the coffin. I leant over and arranged him carefully into the blanket that I had lovingly knitted for him while pregnant. I kissed Benjamin on the forehead.
After Lawrence closed the coffin, and walked from the room with it, I collapsed back onto the pillows and wept. The grief was unbearable.
As I lay there. I could hear Lawrence leave on the buggy with our older sons, Will, Ed, Rob and John. They were going to Poowong, 10 miles away, to bury Benjamin in the paddock behind the Church. Another two sons, Percy and Lawrence, had been buried there a few years earlier.
Rest in peace, my baby. Your brothers will look after you.
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