Dear Andrew,

It's the last day of the year of your birth.  I can't say I'll be sad to see this year go.  It started out as a year we were both so excited for.  The year we were going to become a family!  There would be three of us ringing in 2014!  The year we would finally feel like something we did mattered...the year of you.  The year I would become a mother with a son.

Instead from June 8th this was the year from hell.  Truth be told most of it is one big blur of tears and misery.  It's the year my heart broke and never recovered.  It's the year where I had a life before and a life after.  It's the year I truly discovered what grief feels like.  It's the year that changed who I am and how I think about everything in my life.  Work is significantly less important.  Family is significantly more important.  You are my most important.

2013 was the year I realized that your father is the best thing that ever happened to me and the year I fell in love with your chubby little face.  It's the year I found out all I want is you and yet I can never hold you again.  Even seven months later my arms still ache to hold you one last time. 

I guess 2013 is also the year of regrets.  I regret that we didn't spend enough time with you before we buried you.  I regret that I didn't kiss you enough and tell you I love you enough before we buried you.  I regret that I didn't spend every second cuddling with you for the short few days we actually were able to see you, even if it was only your body.  I wish I had spend more time cuddling with you and taking pictures of you since I didn't realize at the time they were all I'd have left as proof that you existed.  I didn't realize that would become my most precious possessions.

So while I am glad that this year is over, I also realize that tomorrow isn't going to change anything.  I'll still miss you tomorrow.  I'll still be grieving your loss.  I will still constantly think of you.  I will still wake up with a pain in my hear from losing you.  And I'll always love you.

Dear Andrew,

We bought these for you.

Dear Andrew,

Merry Christmas! This was a strange Christmas. No one talked about you today except your father and I. But it didn't seem to be a real Christmas for anyone. There were no presents and no one even said Merry Christmas. It makes me think everyone is thinking of you but no one is saying anything. I just wish one person had mentioned your missing presence today besides me. I know everyone misses you but sometimes it would be nice for someone else to mention you on holidays and at weddings.

I know your other grandparents went to visit you yesterday. I hope you liked their visit and know that even though we can't visit you today we are still thinking about you and loving you. Wherever you are I hope you are being taken care of and are happy and know that we love you.

Love you and miss you baby boy.

Dear Andrew,

It's Christmas eve and your missing presence is felt by all of us.  I think we've talked about you as much as if you were here in real life.  It's a hard holiday.  One that is build around a baby and brings home the fact that you are missing.  It's such a children's holiday and there are babies everywhere.  I thought it might not be that bad at home but it is.  Everywhere we go there are little babies dressed up in Christmas clothes and posing for photos with Santa.  You are supposed to be here in your little Christmas pjs.  You are supposed to be having your first photo with Santa.  You are supposed to be here.

I wonder if you would've been a happy baby.  Would you have screamed when we put you on Santa's lap?  Would you have giggled or cried?  What would it be like to be cuddling with you here in the snow and freezing cold?  What would you be like with your grandparents?  Our lives should be so different right now.  So much happier and filled with excitement.  Instead, we are buying ornaments commemorating your short little life.

I've been trying to hide the tears from our family during this visit.  I don't want to get everyone else upset.  But sometimes I can't help but cry at the thought of what should be.  I know your grandparents miss you.  They have so much here that was supposed to be for your visit this month.  You were going to be so spoiled!

The other day I walked downstairs and the song I used to play for you in-utero was on the radio.  It instantly brought tears to my eyes.  Not that that is a difficult feat now a days.  I remember the first time I played it for you.  You kicked me so hard but I took that as a sign that you liked it.  And now I can't hear the song without thinking of you.

We miss you so much. I hope you know just because we can't visit your grave during Christmas we are still loving you and missing you from afar.  So much more that you even realized baby boy.  I love you.

Dear Andrew,

This Christmas holiday was supposed to be so different.  I'm at your grandparents house for Christmas and you are supposed to be here along side me.  We were supposed to go show you off to the relatives with your grandparents and then we were all going to fly back to there house.  I definitely thought I was going to need the help flying you so far!  Instead, we cancelled seeing any family and few straight out to your grandparents.

I don't want to see anyone or talk to anyone.  It doesn't help that they all have babies your age which are definitely too difficult to see at this point.  But being here isn't easy either.  There are little things that show your grandparents were expecting you too.  There's a play mat, and a bouncy swing, and so many little clothes for you.  Everywhere I go and every breath I take is a reminder that you aren't here.  That you aren't where you are supposed to be and it hurts so much.  It just seems to be getting worse rather than better.  I know the holidays aren't helping because it is such a child's holiday and I was looking forward to spending it with you.

It's snowing here and I was so excited to have you in a little teddy bear snowsuit.  I was excited to show you the Christmas lights and to get your first picture with Santa.  Instead, I'm shunning the holidays while the rest of the world celebrates.

I miss you so much baby boy.  I hope wherever you are you are helping us get through this next couple of weeks.

Dear Andrew,

This is our first Christmas without you and I'm leaving you tomorrow for three weeks.  I went and decorated your box today and found myself more emotional at your grave than I have in a long time.  Don't get me wrong, I'm always emotional when it comes to you.  But this was almost back to the all encompassing sadness of the first few weeks that we lost you.  I had so much trouble leaving your little spot and felt so guilty when I finally did.  I know if I had told myself last year that I would feel guilty for leaving a grave that I would have thought I was crazy.  But I do feel guilty.  Guilty for leaving you on the holidays.  Guilty that you aren't here.  Guilty that we have any happiness right now.

I hope you like your little Christmas ornaments and tinsel and snowman.  I know the snowman was lit for you on Sunday but it didn't look like it was working today.  I tried to make your box feel a little festive so you would know we are always thinking about you.  Even though we won't be here at Christmas know that you are always with us no matter where we are.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

December 9th, 2013

We have the first scan for your little brother or sister today and I am so scared.   The last scan we had was the one where we were told you had no heartbeat.  What if we go in there and they say the same thing again?  Can I handle it?  What will I do if I have to go through this again?  I just don't think I can do that again.

Every night I replay the night we were told you died in my head.  It has never gotten any easier.  Every night I feel like I'm having a panic attack thinking about going onto that ward.  The midwife saying she felt you move but they couldn't find a heartbeat.  I knew something was wrong because they've never had an issue finding the heartbeat.  The only time we did you were kicking the Doppler so I wasn't even worried then.  The last time we had you scanned I knew something was wrong and I'll never forget.  I remember people snoring in the beds around us as they tried to find a heartbeat.  I remember midwives and a doctor running over to where we were waiting.  That is when I definitely knew something was wrong.  But more than anything I remember looking into your father's eyes before they told us you had died and seeing my fear reflected back in your father's eyes. 

That's when I knew you were gone.  Before they told us anything.

When they did tell us I don't think either of us reacted at all.  You hear stories of people screaming and crying.  We just sat there in shock.  I don't think we could believe it had happened when you were so far overdue.  We had gotten through the nine months and the doctor the day before had said there was nothing to worry about at this point.  How I would love to see her again and tell her how wrong she was.  I'd love to scream at her now actually.

So as you can tell the thoughts of going through this again scares me.  I am afraid to walk into that hospital again and go into those same rooms where they confirmed you were gone.

Please stay with us today and watch your little brother or sister.  We need them here and can't take anymore heartache.  It was too much with you and I don't know if I can add another baby to that pain.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

Yesterday was your six month anniversary.  I hope you enjoyed it since it coincided with the tree lighting at the cemetery. 

It was a hard day for your father and I.  The closer we get to the holidays the more we realize how much we are missing.  Six months we've missed so far!  What do you do at six months?  I feel like you would be a handful at this point.  You were supposed to be in the US meeting your great grandmother and cousins and all of the family this week.  It seems so unfair that they never met you or saw how perfect you were.

I wonder what you would look like at this point.  Babies change so much in the beginning.  I know you wouldn't look like you do now which is so sad.  We should see all of these changes instead of imagining them.  I want you hear so badly.  I want to hear you crying and giggling and creating havoc everywhere you go.

I hope you like your light up snowman.  I thought you needed something for six months and for Christmas to keep you company in the dark.  A lot of the parents seem to have the same idea.  There were a lot of little lights at the graves and it made it look so festive and special.  I hope you enjoy them and the tree that isn't too far from your spot.

We love you and miss you so much little man. 

Dear Andrew,

December 3, 2013

We have six days until we have the ultrasound for your little brother or sister.  I have to say that I am not looking forward to it all.

The last ultrasound we had was when they told us you had no heartbeat.  When you were 41 weeks and had decided to wrap yourself in your cord and die.  Now we have to go through this all over again.

Now the doubt is starting to creep in.  What if there is no heartbeat this time?  Can I handle that disappointment again?  What if there is something wrong?  I have all these worries that I never had with you.  I was always confident that you were there and you were perfect.  And I was right up until the day before you were born.

How are we going to handle this baby?  Are we going to cope ok?  Am I going to worry non-stop?  Is every ultrasound going to put the fear of god into me?

I know I won't be as confident or laid back as I was with you.  I'm going to be a wreck and I'm just hoping that you can help us get through this somehow.  You need to help us get your little brother or sister here safely.  It's the most important thing in the world to us and hopefully to you too.

Love you.

Dear Andrew,

We went to a Christmas remembrance service for you on Sunday.  It was a way for us to spend a little time celebrating you before the holidays.

This is our first Christmas without you and used to be my favorite holiday.  Now I can't even stand the thought of it.  Last year, all I could talk about was how we would have a baby this year for Christmas.  How Santa would be bringing you toys and try not to spoil you too much!  How different life has turned out.  Instead this year we will be donating toys for a child your age at Christmas rather than buying toys for you.  We have decided to make this a yearly tradition that will hopefully honor your memory and do something good for someone around your age.  I hope you realize that I would much rather have you here to love.

The service this year was beautiful and emotional.  I was in tears for most of it and even your father seemed more serious than usual.  I thought I was doing ok but this really brought home the fact that I'm not ok.  It made me realize how much I miss you.  For the past few weeks I've been able to put that on the backburner and maybe push my feelings to the back for awhile.  But this service brought it to the forefront again.  I thought it might and I wanted it to.  I want to be sad and miss you because that is how I feel that I should feel.  At this point, I don't think we really deserve to be happy.  It's too soon since we lost you and I don't know how anyone expects me to be happy or celebrate Christmas this year. 

You should have seen all of the candles at the altar for all the other babies who didn't stay with their moms and dads.  It made me realize that we weren't alone in this and that if there is someplace after life then hopefully you aren't alone.  I can't stand the thought of you being all alone.

I brought your Christmas ornament to the service.  That special ornament that I made just for you and will treasure forever.  Your father was so protective of it.  He thought they wanted to keep it and he wasn't having it!  He was so adamant that I make sure we were getting it back at the end.  It was nice to have your name mentioned and I hope somewhere you knew we were thinking of you and trying to honor your memory.

The days since the service have been difficult.  I miss you and the feelings seem amplified since Sunday.  I think between that, the Christmas tree lighting, and the upcoming holidays there are going to be a lot of tears.  But I want you to know that you are never far from my mind and that I love you so much.  You mean the world to me and I would do anything at all to have you here now.

I miss you and love you baby boy.

Dear Andrew,

Just wanted to pop in and let you know I miss you.  Not that you don't know that.  I miss you more and more everyday.

I went up to see you today and brought you a few little Christmas things.  It's sad to think that I'm buying you little garden Christmas markers rather than actual presents.  Next week you should be six months old.  I wish you were here to celebrate Christmas.  I want to dress you up in little Santa pjs and cute holiday outfits.  Instead we are buying you Christmas ornaments and thinking of a little present that can last outside for awhile. 

Life just isn't fair and it isn't happy without you in it.

Miss you so much baby boy.

Dear Andrew,

Your grandmother said something to me the other day that got me thinking.  She said, you are only as happy as your saddest child. 

So how happy are you when one of your children is dead?  I suppose it means you are never truly happy because you are missing a piece of yourself.

I think about that all the time.  How I will never be truly happy again?  Losing you changed my perspective on so many things.  I try to be happy with everyone in my life but there is a part of me that always holds back.  A small corner that thinks I shouldn't be happy because you aren't here.

When you died a small part of me died.  I know it's cliché but I can feel it.  I feel so different.  I don't feel as confident or as comfortable in social situations.  I have no interest in seeing people or talking to anyone.  I've lost who I was before we found out you no longer had a heartbeat.  I've lost a part of me and what's replaced it for now is grief and sadness and anger.  An aching to hold you and have you here has replaced the excitement of your arrival.

It's not the life I expected.  It's not the life I wanted.

I hope one day I can appreciate the time that I had with you and sometimes I do but mostly I regret what we didn't do with you.  I regret what we are missing with you now and am angry that we don't get more time with you.

I miss you and love you.

Dear Andrew,

Anger.

It's a feeling that I get almost every single day.

I'm angry at you.  For wrapping your cord around your neck when we were so close to having you here.

I'm angry at my mom, who seems callous to me.  She has said some things without meaning to and logically I know I shouldn't be mad at her but I am.  I know she misses you and loves you and is trying her best but I have enough anger for everyone right now.

I'm angry at your father's dad for acting like this is something I should get over.  That I should already be back at work and dealing with life because I will have to at some point as he said.

I'm angry at your father's mother because all she does is cry every time we talk to her or see her.  If I can hold it together then why can't she?  You were MY BABY!!

I'm angry at my cousins who have all had beautiful babies this year and can't be bothered to see how I am doing.  In fact, they avoid me and ignore emails rather than talk to me.  I'm angry at them for making me feel like there is something wrong with me.

I'm angry that out of seven babies on my side and one on your father's side you were the one who didn't make it.  It just doesn't seem fair.  Not that losing you or any baby is fair.

I'm angry that the baby on your dad's side of the family was born on your due date.  He will forever be a reminder of what you should be like.  I love him but am angry about the day he was born.

I'm angry at the people I work with.  The fact that I've worked there nine years and they couldn't even send flowers when you died.  I'm angry that it took them five months to reach out to me and I'm angry that some of them still haven't.  I'm angry at the thought of going back there and having to look those people in the eye.  Those people who can't deal with my grief because it's too hard for them.  God forbid, they imagine what it's like for me who has to live with it for the rest of my life.

I'm angry at my best friend who has proven she is the most self-centered person I have ever met.  I'm angry that she thinks she can just ignore my feelings for months and then expect me to be there for her when her boyfriend breaks up with her.  I will not do it this time.

I'm angry that my life doesn't have you in it the way I planned and imagined. 

I miss you. I'm angry and I'm sad but I miss you too.  And hopefully one day I won't be so angry because that list is pretty long right now and I think it takes away from you.

Dear Andrew,

When does this pain get easier?  When does the pain of losing you not infect every single second of my life?  I don't want to let you go.  I will never let you go.  I just want to learn to live with the pain.  I want to learn how to accept that you are gone.  I want to learn how to survive this constant feeling of drowning in the sorrow of your loss.

Sometimes I feel like I am the only person that misses you.  Sometimes I feel like I'm the only one who won't forget you and am constantly fighting for people to remember that you were here and you were alive.  I know I'm wrong and that everyone grieves differently but I don't want you to ever be forgotten.  To be pushed to the back shelf like someone who didn't matter.  And I feel like people are already doing that.  You haven't even been gone six months and I feel like people want me to move on and pretend like you weren't here.  And a part of me wishes they could experience what I went through losing you so that they would understand.  I know you aren't supposed to wish this loss on anyone but sometimes I do.  Where is the compassion of other people?  You were not a pet, you were not an object that I held dear for a little while.  You were a living, breathing human being.  You were my son.  My firstborn.  The love of my life.  And no matter what happens I will never forget your short life or how your little presence changed my life so completely.  I want people to understand that this isn't something you get over.  It's something you learn to live with.  One day you wake up and realize the pain is still there but it isn't as raw.  And I'm just waiting for that day to come.

Dear Andrew,

This week has been emotional.  Every time I see a baby your age or younger I think of you and tears spring right to my eyes.

You consume my every thought this week. 

Last night all I could think of was you and cry.  Your father was at work but he knew something was wrong the second he walked in the door.  How does he always know?

I keep thinking about what we were doing this time last year.  How I was dying with morning all day sickness and convinced you were a girl!  We were in for a surprise when we found out you were a boy!

We were so excited at this time last year.  We couldn't wait to meet you.  Everyone was excited about you.  Your grandparents, your aunts, and your uncles.  Now, we are just sad and the house is so quiet. 

I just wish you were here.  I wish we could see your smiles.  I wish we could see how you had changed since birth.  But we are stuck with what you were like on your birthday.  That's all we have and that's all we will ever have.

I miss you so much and wish you were here.

Dear Andrew,

November 15, 2013

I was lying in bed last night angry.

I am angry that nothing with this pregnancy is going to be fun or easy.  All the joy of having a new baby is gone from our lives.

I constantly worry.  Was I like this with Andrew?  Why don't I feel sick yet?  Does that mean there is something wrong?

I have convinced myself that there is going to be something wrong on the scan so that I can't even be excited right now about your little brother or sister.  I've convinced myself I will somehow lose this baby too.

I don't remember being like this with you at all.  In fact, I was so relaxed it was the first thing everyone commented on.  Don't get me wrong, I followed all the advice of the doctor.  But I was of the opinion you would come when you were ready.  I never worried about scans or anomalies or losing you in the first trimester.

Now it's all I think about.  Is there really a new baby in there?  If so, why do I feel different to how I felt with Andrew (you gave me some amount of all day sickness until 14 weeks, buddy)?  What if there is something wrong with this baby?  What if we lose this baby too?

I'm only five weeks into this and I feel like my nerves are going to be shot by the end (if we make it there).  It's just hard to imagine any sort of happy ending when my pregnancy ended in such a horrible way.  I don't think I will ever believe your little brother or sister will be here until I hold them in my arms and see them for myself.

I want to be excited but I just can't muster any enthusiasm.

I miss you and love you and want you here.  I want both of you here safe, healthy, and alive.

Dear Andrew,

I was having a conversation the other day about you.  The person mentioned that your father and I have gone through one of the hardest and worse things a parent could go through.  They said the only thing that would be worse is losing an older child.

I took exception to that.  How is it easier to have a stillborn child than losing an older child?  Do people think because we had less time with you and therefore less memories that it makes it any easier to say goodbye to you?  If I spoke to someone who lost an older child and asked them if they would rather have lost that child when it was in the womb, how do you think they would feel?  Would they trade in all of their memories of their child, thinking that they might suffer less?

I do not believe any parent would do that.

For us, we've lost out on a lifetime with you.  We will never hear your first laugh, watch your first step, or see you smile at us. We mourn not only your life but the life with you that we lost out on.   I don't know how anyone could think losing a child in the womb or shortly after makes our situation any easier than someone who lost their child when they were 3, 15, or 40.  When you lose a child no matter what the age a part of you dies.  I just wish people would understand that even though we never met you outside of me that we knew you.  You were and are our baby.  It doesn't make a difference that we don't have any memories beyond that.  And it certainly doesn't make losing you any easier.  We are parents who desperately miss our child and all that should have come with you being born alive.

Dear Andrew.

November 13, 2013

Today I went to the doctor to confirm that you're little brother or sister really does exist.  And the answer is yes!  Our doctor was so excited you would think she was part of the family.  She was practically jumping up and down with excitement.  Although, I would say she was probably excited I was coming in with good news and not uncontrollably crying in her office. 

There were still some tears.  We talked about you.  She mentioned that this didn't replace you or make us forget you which I appreciated.  I am so afraid that people assume once your little brother or sister is here that we will forget about you.  I just want you to know that will never happen.  You will forever be our first baby.  Our precious little boy who we love so much.  We just need someone here to love too.

So now you have a job.  You are to watch your little brother or sister grow and keep them out of harm's way.  You need to make sure he/she makes it safely into this world.  They need to be healthy and alive and I'm trusting you to make this happen. 

The doctor wrote us a note to get an early scan since she knows I'm a ball of nerves.  We dropped it into the hospital and it was our first time back since your PM results.  It's our first time in the hospital that doesn't have anything to do with you.  I felt physically ill going back in there and your father said he felt the same.  I don't know how we are going to get through the next nine months when we have to keep going into that hospital.  I feel like every scan is going to give me heart palpitations until we see a heartbeat every time.

When we handed the letter to the secretary and it mentioned your death she still wasn't sure we would get an early scan.  This made me so angry!  Here I was on the verge of tears from having to walk in there and the secretary said that your death was not due to any genetic issues so I shouldn't need an early scan.  I held it in check but by God I was so close to losing it.  Thankfully she went to check one of the sisters and came straight back saying it was fine.  At least the sister knew to say yes and understood our need to have this done.  So on December 9th we hopefully get to see your little brother or sister. 

Please help them thrive over the coming months and watch out for them.  Help your mom and dad get through the next nine months without going completely crazy.

We miss you so much and will need you more than ever over the coming months.

Dear Andrew,

Why is it some days seem bearable and other days tears will come at the drop of a hat?

I can't understand myself or why some days I'm inconsolable and other days I can manage ok.  It doesn't make sense to me.  Part of me feels guilty on the days that I am ok because I feel like I should be sad about what happened to you all the time.  I know in reality I couldn't be like that forever.  It would be too hard to exist in a constant state of pain forever.  But I know a part of me will always miss you and always feel your presence missing from our lives.

I just so badly want you to be here.  I don't even care if all you did was cry and fuss.  At least you would be here.  It's one of those days where it is so hard to get my head around the fact that you aren't here but that you were at one point.  It's hard to reconcile the fact that you were alive inside of me but never outside of me.  I don't even want to think about the fact that you died inside me.  It still makes me want to scream every time I think of it.

I'm writing to you because I miss you, and I love you, and I want you to know that even on the days where I seem ok and am not crying at your grave that I am still thinking of you.  I am still missing you.  I am always loving you.

Dear Andrew,

November 7th

We got some good news today. You should have a little brother or sister in July 2014. Fingers crossed that everything goes ok. Please watch out for him or her and guide them safely into thus world. I trust you to do that for us.

I have to say we were shocked that it happened so quickly. Your dad made me take two tests but he is so excited. We both are excited and anxious and worried and excited again. It's going to be a scary nine months so you need to keep close and help me stay strong.

I love you so much and your little brother or sister will never replace you. They will know all about you and visit you. We are just hoping another baby will help ease our suffering and add a little happiness in this quiet house.  I hope you understand.

Miss you and love you loads,

Mom

Dear Andrew,

Your room is getting dusty.  It's filled with everything we bought for you over the short nine months of your life but never used.  Well, it's more like brimming over with everything we bought you.  There just isn't enough room and I will never have the heart to get rid of anything.  If anything I keep adding.  I've already knit you two more baby blankets.  I guess you can never have enough blankets buddy.

But I love having your room set up because on days like today I can go in there and think about what it would be like to have you here.  Five months to the day since you were stillborn.  What are the milestones for a baby that is five months old?  I don't even know.  I know you should be making lots of noise, providing lots of cuddles, and probably screaming your head off at us.  You should be a little roly poly ball of baby pudge with brownish red curls and big eyes.  You should have that baby smell that is just so perfect.  And you should be here for us to dote on.  You should be looking to your father and I for comfort but also being a little bit adventurous and curious as to what's around you.  We should be enjoying bath time and reading you books.  We should be so in love with who you are now rather than who you were and will always be.  You will never change from that newborn photo that we have of you and it makes me wonder what we have missed out on not being able to watch you grow up.

Your father always used to talk to you in my belly so that you would know his voice when you arrived.  He loved to tell you how it was going to be when you arrived.  How you were going to sleep though the night and always listen to him (yeah right!).  He used to tell you not to be like me since I'm stubborn and never listen to him and to never listen to the music I was forcing on you.  He was convinced if I kept playing it you were going to burst out of that womb as a hipster!

He loves you so much and always will.  He still talks to you like you are right here with us.  And in some ways you are and hopefully somewhere you are listening to us.  You are so engrained in who we are now it's hard to remember how our lives were before you were in them.

So today, for the first time since you've left, will not be filled with tears.  Today I am going to appreciate the time I had with you and the three of us as a family.  There will be plenty of time for tears but not today on your five month birthday.

I know this is all over the place but that's how my thoughts of you are.  One minute I'm thinking about what could have been and the next I'm thinking about when you were here.  The one thing I rarely think about is when we lost you because I think that is still just too scary.  I'm still not ready to relive those moments.

Happy five months baby.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

We are only a couple days away from five months of losing you.

The other day I was cleaning your room and trying to organize the mess that is your crib.  I went to put your memory box in the drawer under your crib and  my breathe caught in my throat.  All of your little 6-9 month clothes were sitting there, unused where I had left them after they were washed.  You should be wearing those little baseball footie pjs right now.  You should be in your vibrating chair, playing with the little mobile on your crib, and being read that big stack of books we bought you.  Instead, I go in there to dust your room and cry and hold your clothes.  We still have the clothes you wore in the hospital but I haven't been able to hold those.  They are still stained from you wearing them and I can't stand the thought of anything happening to them.  They are nearly as precious as your hair and footprints and pictures.

So all of the emotion of the past five months hit me in that one moment where I sat on your floor and sobbed for you and the future that we won't have with you.  Thankfully your father was in the other room watching football and couldn't hear me.  It upsets him so much to see me so distraught and he's having a very hard time without you too.

On the really bad days I cuddle with your bear.  It weighs exactly the same as when you were born (8 pounds 15 ounces) and cuddles right into my shoulder.  On the days that I can manage to move and not be frozen with grief your bear sits in your little frog chair with the bear that has been on your grave the past few months.  But it was filthy and needed to be washed.  I will return it to you at some point but it's also nice having something that was close to you for so long in our house.

I love you and miss you.

Dear Andrew,

It's been a hard week for some reason.  The hardest week in a couple months.  Missing you seems to have gotten worse and seeing pictures of your cousin make me realize everything we are missing out on with you.  He's so big and you should be too!  There have been a lot of tears this week and a lot of pity parties but I just can't get my head around why this happened to you and why you aren't here.  I know I sounds like a broken record but this is the biggest and worst thing that has ever happened to me and I suppose I'm just having trouble processing that you are gone forever.

My mind constantly goes back to that Thursday evening when I felt you leave me.  How did I not know?  Me, who was so paranoid about your kicks.  I suppose on the Friday I knew there was something wrong but I just didn't want to admit it.  The thought of losing you was too much.  And then it became real that night and now this is the rest of my life.  Missing you and loving you and the overwhelming sadness.

I just wonder if we will ever be happy again.  Will we have a little brother or sister for you that will run around the house and bring us some joy or will you be our only child? Will we forever have this quite house and yearning for someone to fill it with noise only to be left wanting?  I know it's only been five months but I feel the lack of your presence more than ever and am scare for the future and of the past at the same time.

I love you and miss you more each day.

Dear Andrew,

I've been pretty emotional and missing you loads lately.  Tomorrow is Halloween and you were supposed to be a little cow.  Who knows if you even would have fit in it as you weren't in any way small?  In fact, you were in three month clothes when you were born since you were so long.  But we had the zip up suit that has the black spots of a cow with a little tail and ears.  It was so cute and your grandmother sent it for you ages ago.  Right now it's folded up under your crib gathering dust but every once in awhile I pull it out to have a look.  You would've been so cute as a little cow even though your father thought it was going to look ridiculous (ridiculously cute, I say!).

Just know we are always thinking of you and love you.

Dear Andrew,

I miss you so much.  I can't believe it hasn't even been five months when it feels like a decade.  It seems to have hit hard again now that we are back in Ireland.  It brings back so many memories of you and this time last year when I had horrendous morning sickness.  Everything smelled disgusting but I knew it would be worth it in the end when I saw your little face. I used to make your poor dad go eat on the deck and cook food with all the windows open and it wasn't warm outside!  I find myself thinking everyday about how you were happily growing away inside me and what the outcome turned out to be.  I find myself wishing I could go back in time to enjoy my time with you more, to know that your time with me was limited to being in my body.  I kept wishing for you to be here in my arms and maybe didn't enjoy that time I had with you during the nine months inside me.  I know I read to you and rubbed where I thought your back and butt were and played music for you but I wish I had done it more often.  I wish I had spent more time talking to you and reading to you and just enjoying you.

The one thing I am thankful for is a video I have of you kicking inside me.  I sent it to your grandmother because she felt so left out not being here to see my belly grow with you inside it.  Little did I know it would be one of my most treasured things besides the lock of your hair I have in my locket.  It's the little things I have left of you that make me realize how much I loved you and how much I miss you.

Dear Andrew,

Everyone in the family finally saw the tattoo I got of your initials a month ago.  I don't know why I was so afraid to tell them.  I mean I'm not a tattoo person.  This is my first and hopefully my last.  I needed something external and permanent to reflect the internal permanent change that not everyone can see.  Your grandmother was hesitant about it but came around and your grandfather was ecstatic.  He really loved it and noticed it almost straight away.  But who could really say something bad since it was for you?

I love you and now have another permanent reminder that you were once here with us even if it was only for a short time.

Dear Andrew,

We survived our first trip that you were supposed to be on.  Your uncle got married and it was emotional and beautiful but so sad without you.  When we got on the plane I had a bit of a breakdown but your father cheered me up letting me know he was surprised I made it that far.  He just knows me so well sometimes it's scary. I find it so hard to leave you and not visit you for a whole week.  I don't want you to think we'd ever leave you.

When we arrived in Boston your Aunt Michelle text us to let us know that she would come check up on you while we were gone.  It was like an instant relief that made me feel a little bit better.  At least someone was going to see you while we were away!

That evening your father and I went out around Boston and he actually talked about what a hard time he is having without you.  I don't think he's been like this since the first month we lost you and it was nice to hear him talk about you and see that he is upset too.  He hides it so well sometimes that I think he's coping better than I am but it turns out he is just trying to act normal for everyone else.  So there were a lot of tears on the first night we were there but we knew that would happen.  You are always with us and constantly on our minds no matter what we are doing.

The next day your father went to see your cousin who was born on your due date.  I couldn't do it.  It was just too hard and I think it was really hard on your father.  He got to hold him and spend time feeding him and I think it really hit home that you weren't there and this is what we should be doing now.  Poor Ronan is a constant reminder of what we are missing with you.  One of seven reminders that thankfully I was able to avoid while we were over there.  It makes me extremely glad that we don't live there right now as I'm sure I'd have a mental breakdown seeing all those babies your age.

Even though I didn't go see Ronan I grilled your father when he got back.  What is he doing?  Is he crawling?  What noises does he make?  I couldn't help myself.  Since you are our first I don't know what you are supposed to be doing right now and here we have this little guy born the day you were supposed to be born.  It just doesn't seem fair.

The rest of the trip passed without incidence.  There were a lot of tears but that is normal now for me.  I don't think there is a day that I don't cry for you even if it's just a few tears slipping down my cheek that I can brush away.

We bought you a lot of stuff in Boston and Provincetown so we will bring it to you in Glasnevin for your little box.  Even your aunt and uncle got you a little Cape Cod Christmas ornament.  Even though it was a week of celebration you were talked about and thought of constantly.  We miss you little man.

Whenever I missed you this week I just looked at the picture of my two boys on my phone of you and it always makes me feel a little closer to you....

Dear Andrew,

Your grandparents lit this candle for you last night.  A lot of people lit candles for you last night.  It seems your father and I aren't the only ones who miss you...

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

You are constantly on my mind but lately even at night I can't let what happened to you go.  I lay in bed for hours thinking about you while your father lies there snoring.  How does he sleep so easily while I don't even start to fall asleep until nearly four every morning?  I think about what you should look like right now and where you should be developmentally.  I think about your hair more than anything.  I was obsessed with those soft little brown curls when you came out.  I couldn't stop touching it and would just sit there stroking your head whenever we were holding you.  Now all I do is imagine what that little head of hair would look like now.  I wonder what we'd be doing everyday and how different your parents relationship should be with you here.  Some days it doesn't even feel like you were real.  It feels like you were a figment of my imagination.  But then I look at your pictures, my locket, and all the other little signs you were here and I know it was real.  It was horrifyingly real.  I honestly hope I never have to go through something like that again because I'm not sure I could cope.

Life teased me and blessed me by giving you to me for so long.  We were so ready for you and to lose you eight days after your due date seems so cruel.  I find myself constantly asking why and never coming up with an answer.  People say everything in life happens for a reason but I would like to see them come up with a reason as to why we have to suffer and why you had to die.  I don't see any reasoning in that and I know I never will.

I love you so much.

Dear Andrew,

I made this for you today at ALLF.  It was so nice to sit around and talk about you and all your baby friends.  I loved seeing pictures of everyone's babies and to show yours off.  It's unfair that I don't get to show your picture off everywhere.  It makes me upset and angry that I don't have hundreds of pictures of you and will never have any new ones to use and show to everyone... just like any proud mama should be able to do.

I miss you and love you baby boy.

Dear Andrew,

Your God father is getting married next weekend.  I'm so happy for the two of them....I've never met two people more suited for each other than your Aunt and Uncle.  But it's also a time of sadness.  You were supposed to be in the wedding.  We were going to get you a little suit and everyone was so excited to have you there to fawn over.  Now there will be this hole where you should be.  It'll be the unspoken grief of the wedding.  And I feel bad that what happened to you and to us in impacting their day.  This is supposed to be their big day but it's tinged with sadness.  I suppose a lot of what we do now is.  It's amazing how such a tiny person has created such a big hole in our lives.  Not just mine but your father's, your grandparents, your aunts and uncles, and your cousins.  You are missed everywhere we go and constantly thought of and mentioned in conversation.

I have this incredible guilt and slight panic at the thought of leaving your grave for a whole week without any visit from me or your father.  I know it's ridiculous since you are always with us but I don't like the thought of no one visiting you for a week.  It makes me worry that you are lonely or think we've abandoned you.  Please don't think that and know that you will be on my mind the whole time we are away.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

Yesterday was a difficult day.  But the 8th of every month since June has been a difficult day.  Well, really everyday since the 8th of June has been hell.  You should have been four months old yesterday.  We should have had you in your little onesie taking pictures with your four month monkey sticker.  I was so excited to have an album at the end of your first year showing how you've grown.  Instead the stickers are still in their packaging, sitting in your drawer.  Just like your clothes, your blankets, and the little cow outfit your grandmother bought you for Halloween. 

You should be laughing and smiling by now.  You should be a big boy wreaking havoc on our house, spitting up on us, and crying when you don't get your way.  Your daddy should be holding you while he watches sports.  He was so excited to have someone to watch his millions of sports with even if you didn't care in the beginning.  And I was so excited to just have you.  To have my little man to cuddle with and watch grow up  But that isn't what happened and now it never will.

So happy four month birthday baby boy.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

I was doing so well the last couple of weeks.  There were tears but rather than hourly they were every couple of days.  I felt like I was not moving on but learning to live with losing you a little bit better. 

I was wrong.

We had the Holles Street remembrance mass yesterday in St. Andrew's.  It was beautiful and emotional and just brought everything back.  I know we are only four months into our journey of your loss but I'm a mess again.  I spend the whole mass thinking of you and crying and then again today.

I miss you so much baby boy.  There are constant reminders of you everywhere.  Even seeing family is difficult since you were one of seven babies due this year on my side and your cousin Ronan is only one week older than you on your dad's side.  Why out of all of those babies did you have to be the one to die?  I'm not wishing anything on my family but I just don't understand why we didn't get to keep you.  Why does everyone else get there babies and we lost you when you were eight days late?  I just can't get my head around it and I don't know if I ever will.

At the mass yesterday there were families, couples, pregnant women, and older couples.  It gave me hope to see other families and know we aren't alone.  It made me sad to think that even fifty years from now we will still be mourning your loss. Your father and I will still visit your grave but we will be old and hopefully have some brothers and sisters for you.  It's sad to think that this never ends.  That we never get to meet you or get to know you and will always feel the pain of your loss even if the feeling just changes the longer we go without you.

I love you and miss you so much.

Dear Andrew,

One year ago today we took a test that told us you were in our lives.  I had suspected it for a week or so but kept putting off testing.  I was afraid to face the fact that you were here!

One year ago I snuck out of the house and bought a pregnancy test.  I came home, took it, and saw that it was positive.  I was scared but so happy.  You were conceived a little earlier than we planned but I didn't care.  I was ready to have a family with your father.  So I went into the other room and asked your father to pause his videogame.  He still laughs about it.  I was sick to my stomach but told him we were having a baby!

Your father was shocked but so excited.  It was not the reaction I was expecting and it made everything better.  I don't know why I was afraid now.  We'd been together five years at that point...you'd think I would know better!  But your father always surprises me with the love and support he gives me daily.  He said we were ready for you and that nothing was better news than this.  That was the start of nine months of happiness with you as our little family grew. 

So, one year later I want you to know everyday something reminds me of you.  Whether it be an anniversary or a song or just a feeling.  I am always thinking of you and always loving you.

Dear Andrew,

We have your footprints and handprints framed with a  picture of you in the nursery. It's nice having something of yours framed and up on the wall.  While we were putting it up your father and I were talking about future brothers and sisters for you and how we have this shrine to you and how that might make them feel.  I hope any future babies feel loved but also know you.  I want them to know that you were loved.  Correction- that you are loved.  I want them to know your short story.  I want them to know how much we grieved your loss.  No matter where you are you will never be left our of the conversations in our household or in our family.

We love you.

Dear Andrew,

This video says it all really.

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

This commercial makes me think of you and cry every time I see it on tv. 

I love you.

Dear Andrew,

For some reason lately I've had trouble going to visit your grave.  I want to go but something holds me back.  I don't know if I suddenly feel as if you aren't there or the fact that you are always with me so what is the point of visiting one spot.  I don't know why suddenly I feel dread going to visit your final resting place.  I love where you are.  I love all the toys and boxes and the fact that you are with other babies.  When we went to visit your plot before you were buried we instantly knew it was where we would want you.  It's colorful and so childlike while still maintaining a feeling of mourning.  But I also have this feeling of horror every time I see your name on the headstone.  It somehow makes it so real.  It makes it more real than the fact we have your nursery still set up, pictures of you around our house, and stretch marks on my belly all proving that you were here.  That you lived even if it was only for 41 weeks and a day.  The headstone is a reminder that you aren't with us and we only got to spend a short time with you.

I see other parents up near your plot.  Older parents who are probably grandparents at this point and it makes me so sad to think that fifty years from now you will still be gone and your father and I will be going to visit you.  We will never be done with this grief until we meet again.  And something about this feeling scares me.  I always was able to get through hard times thinking that this hardship has to end at some point.  But it won't end.  We will forever remember you and what happened to you.  We will forever hold you in our hearts until we meet again.

I hoe you love the box we made you.  Your father built it and I painted it.  I am forever adding little toys to it even though your father thinks I'm crazy for buying you little things every time I'm out.  I always think of you....

Dear Andrew,

This weekend we went to get your foot prints and hand prints framed.  It's something I've wanted to do but haven't found a place that would do what we wanted.  We finally found the man this weekend.  He looked at your picture and commented on what a beautiful baby you were.  He asked us how old you were.  We told him you were three months old and he commented on how we must have had some sleepless nights over the past few months.  We just nodded and agreed.  I wanted to scream we have had sleepless nights but not in the way you are thinking.  This happens a lot...I want to tell anyone your story.  It's my way of keeping you alive and proving that you lived.  I lie awake at night thinking about how you should be three and a half months old at this point.  We should have little smiles and cuddles and dirty diapers.  Instead your room is just getting dusty and everything lies around unused.  I think about what you would be like at three months.  I think you'd have some little curls like you did when you were born and big eyes.  I never saw your eyes and I always wonder if you had mine or your fathers.  I think I'll always do this for the rest of my life...imagine where you should be at that point in my life and what you would look like.  I know no matter what the future brings I will love you and miss you for the rest of my life, my precious little baby.

Dear Andrew,

I miss you.  This week has been extremely hard for some reason.  All I can think about is how you should be here.  How you should be three months old and how we are never going to get to experience anything else with you.  My heart is broken without you.  It seems so unfair that everyone gets to have happy, healthy babies that are alive and we are left with only a memory of you.  I see so many women with new babies walking around.  These babies with their cute chubby cheeks and rosy complexions.  I can't help but stare in jealousy even though it makes me feel so much worse and brings tears to my eyes every single time.  (Thank God for dark sunglasses otherwise I'd be the crazy lady in the street crying.)  Why couldn't that be you?  I don't understand why I didn't get to keep you.  Why did you have to die?  I did everything I could to make sure you got here safely and it still didn't matter.  Now all I am left with are questions and a feeling that I've been cheated.  A feeling that seems to be growing stronger rather than weaker and an anger that I have nowhere to direct.  No one did anything wrong.  No doctors missed anything.  You just rolled yourself up in your cord and chocked.  So I guess a little bit of me is mad at you.  I know you were just a baby and it was there.  But why couldn't you leave it alone?  You were so close to the finish line.  So close to meeting us and becoming a family.  Instead, you wrapped yourself in your cord and died inside me and for that I am mad at you.  I know it doesn't make sense but for now I'm mad at you and I miss you and I love you.

Dear Andrew,

I've been trying to write your birth story down for months.  People keep telling me I should write it down before I forget things but I think I've already started forgetting.  I fear that if it wasn't for the pictures we have of you that I wouldn't remember you.  That scares me to death and so I am going to start writing before I forget anymore.

Let me start by saying I loved you from the day you were conceived.  Actually I loved you before I even knew you were a possibility.  You were wanted and you were loved and I still love you no matter where you are in the world.

So, here we go....

On June 6th 2013 we went in for our 41 week appointment.  The wait was a lot longer than usual.  I think we were there nearly three hours and your dad really had to get to work.  When my name was finally called we discovered the cause of the delay.  They were letting the doctors in training check the moms-to-be.  I will never forget that girls face.  She was nice enough but seemed very unsure of herself.  While we were waiting for my doctor to come in I mentioned to her that I was very cautious about counting your kicks.  And her response was that I had nothing to worry about.  She said at this point when you are 41 weeks that the chance of anything happening to the baby is practically non-existent and I should relax.  I listened to her, relaxed a little bit and I will blame myself and her for that for the rest of my life.

The rest of that appointment was unremarkable.  You had a strong heartbeat, plenty of fluid, and the placenta was nice and strong.  We were scheduled to come in a few days later for another check and then an induction.  We had nothing to worry about.  We would be holding you within a week whether you were ready to come or not.  I was excited and scared.  I'd never been through labor and I'd never been comfortable around tiny babies.  We were going to be responsible for a person!  Your father and I joked about it the whole way home as people who are both nervous and excited do.  Your father headed off to work and I went to lie down as carrying you around was exhausting!

When I went to lie down you kicked like crazy.  It stuck in mind because I had never felt you kick like that before and I thought you were going a little crazy.  I took a nap and hung out around the house.  I think this is when you died.

Friday rolled around and I headed into town and went for a walk.  You were very quiet but that was normal for you.  You would go a whole day without really kicking which is why you made me so paranoid about kick counts.  I remember for your 26 week ultra sound I ate a gigantic chocolate muffin and a coffee and you still refused to move around while the technician prodded you and pushed your bony little butt.  We even have a picture from the scan where it looks like you are yelling at her for interrupting your sleep.  So needless to say this wasn't out of character.  Deep down though I knew something was wrong.  I went home in the afternoon and put frozen peas on my belly to try and get you to move but no luck.  I gave myself until 8 o'clock that night to feel you move or I was heading to the hospital.  Around 7:30 I felt you move and once again told myself that you were ok.

That night I went to bed around 12.  As soon as I got into bed I felt a sensation I don't know how to describe.  I knew my water broke but I didn't think I had peed myself as many women describe.  It was almost like a popping sensation and I just knew.  I called your dad on my phone even though he was in the other room.  He was so confused because I was yelling at him that I needed a towel.  He still didn't understand so I told him my water had broke.  He ran to get a towel and I ran to the bathroom with it.  There was a lot of water and I knew from my antenatal classes that we had to go to the hospital to get checked out.  I nervously fixed my make-up, cleaned up a little, and called your grandmother to let her know you were coming!  Your dad and I headed over to the hospital joking that we weren't coming back without a baby.

As we walked to the hospital more water just kept coming out.  No one told me so much water would come out.  We arrived at the hospital and were told we would have to wait to be seen as six others had arrived right before us.  There was another couple with us and the woman was in labor.  I had slight contractions but nothing serious.  However, every time one happened more water would come out of me.  I had brought our Christmas towels with us and was putting them on the floor to try and catch the water.  I was so embarrassed!

We were finally told we could go upstairs.  A woman took our insurance information and we signed some forms and then were sent to the ward so the midwife could examine me.  This is where your story gets bad and makes me feel physically sick every time I think of it.  This is the part that haunts my dreams and keeps up at night. 

Once on the ward we had to wait a little longer.  At this point I was looking at the water and noticed it was tinged slightly green.  I hadn't noticed this at home or in the lobby of the hospital and I looked over at your dad and said something is wrong.  I knew from our antenatal class it was meconium and that meant the baby was distressed.  Your dad said not to worry that I was being paranoid and everything would be ok.  The midwife saw the color and asked me to get some in a cup so they could look at it.  I put some in a cup and was led to a bed so they could check on you.  The midwife was very young and was having trouble finding a heartbeat but she was pushing you around and said she felt you move.  I think she was just so scared she was trying to give me some hope.  A second midwife came over and she couldn't find your heartbeat either.  This was when I knew something was wrong.  Your father and I were exchanging glances just hopping that they would find your heartbeat and this was just a scare.  The midwives ran off to get a doctor and at this point it was 1:30 in the morning on the 8th of June.  We were in a ward of people sleeping and snoring while the doctor rolled in a machine to scan you.  She turned it on and waited what felt like forever before she said I'm sorry but there is no heartbeat.  She said she had to bring us downstairs to check on a better ultrasound machine but that you were no longer with us.

My world collapsed at this point and I went into shock.  How did this happen?  How can the world be so cruel? 

We were brought into a room on a different floor while they turned on a more powerful ultrasound machine.  But we knew the answer at this point.  They scanned you and showed up where your heartbeat should be and once again, the doctor said I'm sorry but there is no heartbeat.  They could have said other things but I was so shocked I don't remember much.  I know neither of us cried at that point.  I had tears running down my face but nothing like what would come in the months after your death.  They then told us we would have to go home because I wasn't in labor.  They gave us a card with a number to call if I started getting contractions but that if I didn't I could come in Sunday for an induction.  We numbly took the card, gathered our bags and headed home.

The walk home was silent.  There was no joking.  No laughter.  No hope.  Just silence.

There is a tunnel that we have to walk through to get home that echoes if you are talking in it.  Your dad always used to make funny noises in it on the way to your appointments.  I guess it amused him but he didn't do it the night we went home and he has never done it since.  I think a part of him died that night with you.  I know a part of me died with you.

We got home and I put all of your things away.  We had pictures of you up on the mantle, a blue bin full of diapers and wipes, and another basket of bottles and pumps.  I put everything in your room and closed the door.

Your dad didn't know what to do.  We decided to go for a walk.  So on a early Saturday morning in Dublin your 9 month plus pregnant mother and father went for a walk in the city.  We didn't go far but it seemed so strange to see the city continuing on as normal at 3 am on a Saturday morning while our world had just collapsed.

We headed home and decided we had to make some phone calls to our parents.  I called your grandparents in Indiana who were so excited for your arrival.  You were the first grandchild in the family and we all had so many hopes for you.  I remember calling them and my mom answered.  She was very excited since she knew we had gone to the hospital.  Then I broke the news and told her you had died.  I will never forget her cry.  She just cried no and I could hear my dad in the background asking what had happened.  He asked that so many times while we talked.  Eventually I got off the phone with them and we rang your dad's parents.  They were just as shocked and your dad's mother just kept saying she was so sorry.  Everyone was in pain and no one knew what to do...including us.

Eventually around 4 am your father said we should get some rest.  Rest?!?!?  How was I going to get any sleep knowing this had happened.  But I got into bed.  This is when the contractions started.  There was no way I was going to sleep and just wandered around the house.  My phone started ringing again and it was my parents.  They had been so shocked by the phone call they hadn't known what to say so they called back once they realized what had happened.  I talked to them some more but I can't for the life of me remember any of the conversation.

Around 7 am the contractions were pretty strong so I unpacked my hospital bags and took out everything that we would have needed for you if you were alive.  I repacked the bags with what I would need and an outfit and diaper for you.  Your father called the hospital and we headed back there.  They checked to see if I was dilated and I wasn't so they put us in a private room until I was in actual labor.  They kept pushing us to do another ultrasound.  We had already had two and knew what had happened.  We didn't want to see it again.  Thankfully your father took the doctor outside and let them know in no uncertain terms that it wouldn't be happening.  I would have just given in but he stood up for us and for that I was thankful.  We didn't see that doctor for the rest of our stay.

By noon the contractions were strong and painful.  They were continuous and I was in constant pain.  I felt like I was going to throw up so your dad got the nurse and she came in to check on me.  At that point I was 5 cm dilated.  I couldn't believe they let me stay in that much paid and get that dilated without any sort of medication.  I wanted an epidural!  I couldn't understand why I had to go through all this pain when I was getting the reward at the end.

They took us to the labor suite and I got an epidural.  It was bliss.  I could actually sleep and wasn't in constant pain.  For the next six hours I slept on and off.  We had the strangest midwife who kept kissing me the whole time I was there.  I know you didn't spend much time with us but if you had you would know that things like that freak us out!  I just kept thinking why is this lady kissing me?  And why does the other midwife had loads of hair on her face?  It's like I couldn't get my mind around the huge life changing event that was happening so instead I focused on these trivial things to keep me sane.

At one point a man came in.  I am guessing he was an important doctor.  He had that air about him.  He told us he was sorry for our loss and asked some questions about when I had last felt you kick.  He wanted to know when we had last been in.  Once he got his answers he left and was never seen in our room again.  It seemed so odd at the time and still does.

Your father called my parents to give them updates while they tried to organize a flight to get over here as soon as possible.  I can't imagine how hard it was for him during this time.  Every time I woke up he was sitting there looking so sad and helpless.  I kept trying to smile at him to let him know I was all right but I don't think it made it any easier for him and that broke my heart even more.  I always loved your father but I fell so much more in love with him while going through this experience.  He is a tough man but so loving and gentle with me.  He would have been a great father to you.

Sometime in the afternoon the midwives let us know my parents were there.  But it wasn't possible...they were still in Indiana.  Your dad and I were so confused so he went out.  It was his parents.  They had driven up from Cork and your grandmother had forced her way up to the floor.  You have to give her points for her pushiness!  No one was going to say no to her.  She had to be there and that was that.  They put them in our private room while we waited to meet you and she plainly told the midwives she wasn't going anywhere.  They describes your grandmother to a tee right there.  She will do anything for her family and I feel bad for anyone who gets in her way.

At 6 pm they told me I was fully dilated.  I was so tired but I didn't want to push so they let me rest for another hour.  At 7pm the midwife came in and told me it was time.  I was very shaky at this point which is normal as my body was in labor but I just couldn't feel it.  I started pushing and pushing and pushing.  Your father looked over and could see your head poking out!  For some reason I found this hilarious since he told me he would never look down there during deliver.  And  I told him so while I was trying to push you out.  The midwife didn't think it was funny that I was talking while pushing but I didn't really care!  I think I was delirious at this point from exhaustion and shock.  At 7:23 pm on the 8th of June 2013 you came into this world.  You were 8 pounds and 15 ounces.  You were silent and perfect and blue with bright red lips.  Your father saw the cord was wrapped twice around your neck and the midwife told me there was nothing I could have done to save you. This didn't make me feel any better

 They showed you to me and then cleaned and dressed you.  We put you in the cardigan that your dad's mom knit for you and a hat that was way too big for your head.  I held you and couldn't believe how perfect you were.  I couldn't believe your father and I had made something so perfect.  You had ten fingers and ten toes.  You had dark curly hair and the cutest little nose and ears I have every seen.  You were so soft and cuddly and I never wanted to let you go.  I never should have had to let you go.

Your father and I spend some time with you.  Your grandparents came in to meet you.  Everyone marveled over how perfect you were and everyone cried together.  It was the happiest day of my life because I got to meet you and the saddest day of my life because we were also saying goodbye to you.

Eventually they brought us back to our private room to spend time with you as a family.  Your father slept on the floor, I slept on the bed, and you slept in your cot.  I remember just lying in bed staring at you in your cot.  You were finally here but it was the saddest way I could ever think to meet you.  At some point in the night I became hysterical.  Your father just held my hand while I cried and stared at you.  Your face was starting to look bruised and it was becoming obvious that you weren't ever waking up no matter how much I willed it.

We left you the next day.  We took all your little finger prints and handprints.  We cut some of your hair.  We hugged you and kissed you and then we went home.  I couldn't stay there anymore and I'm so sorry that we left you.  We should have spent more time with you but it was too hard at the time.  So we went home.  I opened the door to your nursery and reorganized your room.  I had just spend all those hours in labor and gave birth to you.  I wasn't going to shut you away like you had never existed.

My parents arrived that day.  My dad cried and I had never seen him cry before.  You had that affect on everyone in the family.  Everyone loved you and was so excited for you.  When you died some of the hope and happiness in our family died with you.

We went to see you in the chapel at the hospital on Monday and on Wednesday.  Everyone got to hold you and meet you this time.  They had your postmortem on the Tuesday and we buried you on the Thursday.  Your uncle and God father flew out from Boston to see you.  There were a lot of family members there to say goodbye to you.

We buried you with the book I read to you while you were growing (I'll Love You Forever), a little baseball cap, the knit sweater and knit blanket your dad's mom made you, the blanket my mom sent you, the rattle my mom sent you, and the monkey pajamas that I was so excited to put you in.  They were for babies that were three months old and they fit you perfectly!  I couldn't believe it.  I guess you weren't fitting into any newborn clothing. We had a little ceremony in the chapel on the Thursday and then drove you to Glasnevin Cemetery.  When we were there everyone said a little bit about you.  Both of my parents had lovely things to say about you and there were a lot of tears.  I had written mine earlier and somehow had the strength to get through it.  Once we were done they lowered your into the ground and started covering the coffin.  This was the breaking point for me and the tears started flowing.

I would say this is where your story ends but it doesn't really, does it?  Everyday since then I have thought about you, I have cried for you, and I have spoken to you.  So while this part of the story is over I like to think that somehow you are somewhere around helping us through this incredibly difficult time.

I'll love you forever, I'll love your for always, as long as I'm living my baby you'll be.

Dear Andrew,

Today I finished your baby book. 

I finished it.

This book was supposed to hold your first year of life.  It was supposed to be an ongoing work in progress documenting your life.  All of the pictures I was going to take of you growing up, all of the milestones you were supposed to achieve, and all the smiles the three of us would share.  Instead, I'm left with a baby book that is only half full and all of the pictures are full of tears and sadness.  There is nothing more to add and there never will be and it breaks my heart.

I love you, baby.

Dear Andrew,

Please help us get through today.  We held your perfect little hand nearly three months ago as we buried you and now we need you to hold our hand.  We miss you and think of you constantly baby boy.

Dear Andrew,

I can't believe I don't get to see your beautiful little face again.  Those perfect little ears, soft skin, and full head of hair.  You were more beautiful than I ever imagined.  I didn't know your father and I could create something so beautiful and perfect.  We went to print your pictures the other day and the woman commented about what a beautiful baby you were.  Our response wasn't enthusiastic and I think it confused her.  Aren't parents supposed to be excited about their newborns?  Aren't parents supposed to be beaming with pride when people compliment their babies?  But all we can feel is sadness and an emptiness where you should be.  Sad that we aren't going to watch you grow up.  Sad that we will never hear your first word.  Sad that you are only part of life through our memories of the short time we had with you.  Our house is so empty without you.  Your room is gathering dust and all of your little clothes are sitting unused.  And all I can do is imagine what life would have been like if you had lived.  I spend a lot of time thinking about that but I suppose it's fitting because it's what I did when you are alive and kicking inside me.  I imagined a life that was full of happiness not a life that was full of tears.  Now I imagine what could have and should have been rather than what is now our reality.

I miss you.