Dear Andrew,

I think today is a more difficult day than the anniversary of your birth.  A year ago today is the day that we buried you.  A year ago today was the last time I saw that face that I was so in love with and the last time I was able to caress those little curls.

We had a ceremony for you in the hospital.  You had your post mortem the day before which had deteriorated the look of your skin.  There were some red patches on your face that weren't there before and it was heartbreaking to look at.  Your father and I spent some time alone with you and then the rest of the family came in. 

We had a naming ceremony and a few words were said.  I held you in my arms the whole time.  I never wanted to let you go.

I don't remember much of the ceremony except holding you and staring at you and being so afraid of letting you go.  We had visited you a few times during the week and spent time holding you in the chapel.  Those times were a little easier because I knew that we would see you again.  This was so final.  This was the last thing we had to do where you would physically be there.

We placed you in your little white coffin with a picture of us, the book I read to you, a rattle from my family, and the blanket and sweater that your dad's mother knit for you.  You had a little baseball hat on and one of the teddy bears from your memory box.  You were wearing the little money footie pjs that I had been so excited to get you in.  I never knew when I was buying them that they were what you would be buried in.

As your father wrapped you up in the coffin I had thought people were going to leave and give us more time with you.  So I went to sit down but instead they put the top on your coffin and that was the last time I saw you.  I didn't know that was going to happen and I was so shocked I didn't get to say anything.  I felt like I didn't get a proper good bye for you but my consolation was that I did get to hold and cuddle you during the ceremony.  At least I had one last time with you in my arms.

My heart broke as your father put the coffin lid on and slid it into place.  It was so tiny and I just couldn't understand why this was happening to us.  Only one week before we had been in the same hospital planning your induction and you had been alive.  Now we were burying our baby.

After the ceremony ended your grandfather went to get the car and the three of us rode in the back.  Me, your father, and you in your tiny white coffin.  We headed out to the angels plot in Glasnevin where you would be with other babies.  We had gone and looked earlier in the week and knew it would be the best spot for you.  There were other babies there and a feeling that we weren't leaving you alone on your own.

When we got to Glasnevin we had another little ceremony for you.  My parents said some words and then I did as well.  I had written something out from your father and I as he couldn't speak during your burial.  It was too emotional for us all.  I saw my dad and brother cry for the first time ever at your funeral.  You, this tiny little boy was so loved before anyone met you and now we were all heartbroken together.

After all the eulogies were done your uncles and your dad lowered your tiny coffin into the grave.  And this is where I lost it.  Seeing your tiny box going into the ground seemed so unfair.  It's not something any parent should ever have to witness.  We stayed for awhile after that and it would the first of my many many vists to you over the first year.