March 12, 2009
You turn 34 today. Each year at this time I remember all the plans and dreams I had for you. I remember when I first found out that I was pregnant with you. Your daddy and I were so happy. We had a little girl who was 3 and you would have been her baby brother. We bought a bigger house and had your room all ready for you to be born. God had other plans though. The day before you were born I had a doctor’s appointment and the doctor said, “I can’t hear a heartbeat.” He said you could have been behind the placenta and maybe that was why he couldn’t hear it.
Then he sent me home. That was the longest 30 minutes I had ever driven. I prayed all the way home, begging for the doctor to be wrong. I was so upset and scared that I went into labor that night.
We left early for the hospital the next day. The doctor came in and said he still couldn’t hear your heartbeat. He kept trying and trying. He put a monitor on you and still there was no heartbeat. He told me you were dead. I didn’t believe him. I just kept praying and crying and praying and crying. After hours of labor you were born. They wouldn’t let me see you. The doctor told your daddy that I shouldn’t see you. I wanted to so bad, but they wouldn’t let me. I guess that is why I still don’t believe you’re gone, even after 34 years. I still think about you every day and love you as much as I do your sister and brother. I know you are in heaven and I know you are happy and that is how I can go on living without you.