Lucy Reflects

And in the end, didn't I get what I wanted? To grow life in my body? To feel what it was like to nurture someone while they developed within me?

There you were, born five months too soon, hanging from my body unlike anything I had ever seen. You were so big and yet so small and I couldn't believe what was happening. I couldn't understand why it was happening to me. Had I not waited long enough? You were my reward for eight years of infertility, and now you were gone. Gone before I could feel you kick me. Gone before I had a chance to properly announce your sex. I found out that you were a boy by looking at your underdeveloped body. I found out that you had my nose and your father's forehead.

You were born with one eye open, as though you wanted to see me before you went, just once. Your father, ever the stoic creature, wrapped you in a towel and sobbed. I was just waiting to wake up. We took you to the hospital. We dressed you. Named you. Took photos of you. Held your tiny body. Spoke to you. All of this while I was being poked and prodded, while a sea of nurses with kind but sorrowful eyes told me they were so sorry while my body attempted, and failed, to rid itself of your home within me.

It wasn't fair.

It ISN’T fair.

It isn’t fair that for the rest of my life, I get to continue to be your mother, without the benefit of you being my son. I don't get to bathe you or change your diaper, or become exasperated when you color on the walls. I won’t cheer you on as you achieve whatever goals you set your mind to. I won’t be able to film your graduation, or cry with your father as you go off to college.

I want you to know I was so excited to do these things for you. I was so excited to be your mother. And I'm going to love you for the rest of my days and beyond.

When Beth asked me to share her story about the loss of her and her husband’s son, Hadrian Matthew, I felt so honored. No words that come from me will ever capture how it feels to lose a child. But Beth’s words do, and I hope that by sharing her story, she and other parents will heal as best as they can. Love to you, Beth.