My dearest son,
I'm 46. It's been 12 years since you were ripped from our family by a bizarrely rare incredibly odd disease. You lived 10 months and 11 days. I have no idea how you comprehended your small time with us. In spite of pain and guilt and extreme frustration; I am delighted I got to love and nurture and care for you during your short life.
I was ecstatic when I learned we were pregnant with you. I had a miscarriage a few months before that was traumatic in a physical manner but not so devastating emotionally. This time I got to see the baby I miscarried, so there was a final closure to the event. My attitude was OK, God felt there was an inborn error that meant that baby could not survive.
Your father and I waited 6 weeks and tried again. We were thrilled to be trying to create you with the help of God. It never mattered if you were female or male, we just wanted a healthy infant to love, to show the product of our love, and to enjoy parenting. We relished raising your brothers at 6 and 4. They were more of a joy than work and they were loving, snuggly, loving children. I was fabulously happy being a full time mother and wife.
So when we got the news you were coming we were happy, slightly leery but happy. The pregnancy was different from my others. I chose a midwife. I didn't have a happy energized pregnancy with you as I did with Riley. I was more tired with you being 32 at the time. I had a child in 1st grade and one in preschool plus soccer for both.
My hair went flat ad lifeless for the first time ever-thanks. I had very little nausea or headaches as I had suffered through with your brothers. I was more tired.
Kinda klutzy as I fell through the stairs at Charmaine's. Nice bruises on my arms and knees
I fell another time in the middle of the night when Ry went pee in his bathroom but it was clear and I did not see it. WHAMMO went my 7 months pregnant body. I twisted so the brunt of the fall affected my back and upper side. I did need to call your dad to help me get up. I was fairly unwieldy by then (like a beached whale).
There was the exciting(yeah right) time Riley was sleeping bed with me and you inside me and he threw up all over my back and hair. Once again, I screamed for Daddy for help. You, I and Ry took a nice warm shower and Daddy did the laundry. He was such a good daddy/husband.
I would lie in bed and feel you move. You never matched the level of the frenzy of your brothers but you did move. You were breech from early on. Your hard head was under my ribs, your ankles tickled your ears and you little butt was wedged firmly down in the pelvis. You would get the hiccups and I would grin internally because I know this meant you alive and most likely normal.
Your time inside me was a gift. It's a gift to create a life. I can not describe the radiance and peace I felt when you were inside me. You were our child but again, a child is a gift, leaving the future to be unknown. We were okay with that risk. After 2 healthy boys and 2 miscarriages, we understood(or we thought) we understood the risk to love outweighs the fears.