My baby’s name was Tshegofatso. The day we came back from the hospital, he was very big, a healthy baby. He grew nicely and was fat. He looked like his father. He was always laughing. When he became ill he was always frowning, and he didn’t laugh anymore.

After breastfeeding him one day, he looked at me and then he started making a weird sound. He just died in my hands. I didn’t even cry. I just went like, “No. No! This is not happening.” But it was too late. I couldn’t stop his soul from leaving his body.

We tend to remember God when days are dark. But in the happy days we forget Him. When my baby was very ill, I asked God, “Please help me. If I’ve done anything wrong, please forgive me. Don’t hurt my baby for my sins.” But I also said, “Thank you, Lord, for everything you’ve given me. I know you’ll never give me a challenge I can’t handle.”

I keep a room for disappointment in my heart, so I can accept all the hurts. When it’s time, I cry. I allow my emotions to take their place in my body. But I can’t turn back the hands of time. I just have to carry on.