I met our infertility doctor on February 1, 2011. Just making that appointment was emotionally hard on me, let alone going to it. It meant admitting there was a problem, that things weren’t working the way we thought they should, that I might be “broken.”
Two years, five months, and two days later, on July 3, 2013, our infertility doctor met our daughter.
In between those days we lived a lifetime of ups and downs.
This month is International pregnancy and infant loss month, with today being the day of remembrance for those little ones.
Today I remember our son.
He was perfect. But I developed a bleed in my uterus and it got too big for him. He forever changed my heart and soul. I felt a morbid sense of relief when we passed 20 weeks with our daughter because it meant I could not medically have a miscarriage any more. At that point it would be classified a still birth. Because of him I would treasure every pregnant moment I ever had again. He is in the back of my mind to help me treasure every moment I have with his sister now.
While I will never wrap him in a quilt in this life, because of his short life we were able to keep pushing forward until we had a child I could wrap in a quilt. He gave us hope.
Tonight I will light a candle for him, and all the others who left too soon, as part of a wave of light across the globe.