• The Long Fight

    Four months after my son’s death, I discovered that I was pregnant again. I had pleaded for months to be tested for the rare…

  • Sticks and Stones

    “Sticks and stones can hurt my bones but words will never hurt me.”
    I recited that rhyme often as a child, and as an adult…

  • Three.

    He is three today.
    Somewhere, somehow.

    His hair is dark and long
    and his laugh is loud.
    And his eyes are molten chocolate,
    just like hers.
    And he lets her…

  • He Walks With Me.

    It has been two years, six months, three weeks exactly since my son took his last breath in my arms.

    The last hours of his life…

  • Knowing Fear.

    As irony would have it, the date my last post was published, my husband and I sat beside our rainbow daughter’s hospital cot. Wondering…

  • Bittersweet

    The night my son was born, I remember excitedly watching my husband fix a brand new car seat into our car before we left…