Dear World,
I had a son. He was conceived in love and wanted more than a thousand stars.
I had a son.
I grew him in my belly.
I sang to him, I didn’t drink coffee, I got paint swatches for his room.
My husband felt him kick, always the most at 10 am and 2 pm, then again at 6… just after dinner.
He was most active after pasta. Italian.
I had a son.
The ultrasounds looked great.
We didn’t know the sex, wanting to be surprised in the moment.
We painted and laughed.
We had a baby shower.
Then another for my friend whose due date was only a few weeks different.
We celebrated.
I had a son.
We were in the hospital.
No heartbeat.
What happened? Induction.
Fear. Love.
What happened? Numbness.
Calls to family.
Tears.
Pretend.
What happened? Time to deliver.
I had a son.
And then I met him.
Perfection. Ache.
A mother’s love.
A small bundle of precious baby boy, absent the breath.
The cry.
We held him, sang to him.
Grandma, Grandpa, and Auntie met him.
Perfection.
Ache.
I had a son.
We walked down the halls.
No baby in our arms. Eyes cast down, supporting each other.
Carrying each other.
We somehow made it home.
We somehow made it through the day.
We slept on the couches with the TV on.
Distraction.
I had a son.
We mourned.
We learned.
We grew.
We were angry.
We grew.
We looked inside ourselves.
We looked at the universe.
We grew.
We somehow made it.
We made it.
I have a son.
Three sons.
We are full of laughter and light.
We are strong.
We are a family.
We will forever be missing one piece.
We are brave. We remember him.
We ache for him. We rejoice for him.
We are full of love and light.
I have a son. BelloSanto.
He was real. He was loved.
And he matters.
His life matters.
We are full of love and light.
We have a son. Three sons.
With love,
Caitlin
———
I had a son I had another son. They did not breath either. My life was broken