Twice a Mother
For a week, I have thought of writing this story. For a week, I haven’t known where to start, so I haven’t written anything at all. I’ve finally decided just to start with the basic, raw, painful truth of it, then continue from there. Last Thursday, August 29, I had a baby. My baby was a little boy and he was beautiful, but he isn’t with me now, except in my heart. I was almost 16 weeks pregnant, and there was no chance he could survive. We named our son Joseph Aaron. I went into labor around midnight. When we got to the hospital, Joseph’s heart was still beating strong. But nothing could alter the chain of events. It was too early. Devastating. Crushing. Terrifying. Impossible, until it wasn’t. Here are some things I know about Joseph: * He was 7.5 inches long * He weighed 3.2 ounces * He was born at 8:30 am * He has an older brother who never met him and will never know him on this earth * He was unbelievably beautiful * He was tiny * He was perfectly, fu