Wednesday, April 8, 2009
I cried as I spoke to him. For the first time in awhile I shed tears for him tonight. I told him I loved him and that I was proud of him. So proud of him and happy he was a little boy. That he was perfect. I'm sure I have told him this before. In the days and weeks following his death, I am sure I spoke to him. But I don't remember it.
I will forever be haunted by the disappointment I felt when I found out I was having a little boy. I can not tell you enough how much that hurts my heart. I never want Clarence to think he wasn't good enough. He was perfect, from his head to his toes. I loved every inch of him. He was a fighter. The odds were against him. He struggled to grow and thrive while his lifeline, my placenta, bled and bled. While my body let him down... He fought.
I felt him kick for the first time when I was 15 weeks along. A big thump. There was no denying it. And I thought to myself that it was a sign. We had a fighter growing in there.
I am so thankful for his strength to fight. I am so glad I got to hold my baby boy. Tiny as ever, but still a baby. Ten fingers, ten toes, a perfect button nose. He hung on and he fought so his mommy would have a chance to hold him and see him fully formed. Perfectly formed. I am sure he would've held on longer if he could have. But his little body put up a long fight and needed to rest.
It's OK Clarence. I am proud of you.