From Riches to Rags, and the Glory I Found There

My beautiful perfect son was born a year ago on September 4.  Trust me when I tell you that he truly was handsome. I did not see him with rose-colored glasses. He was beautiful and perfect.  But he was dead.  It still hurts to say those words (or write them). They seem so harsh and cold. Whenever I have to break the news to people I haven't seen in a long time I try to use gentle soothing language. No one wants to be smacked in the face with tragic death.  But we were. It knocked the wind right out of us.  He was dead. And as much as I secretly begged him to breath, he remained dead.  My sweet baby boy who had moved and grown inside me for 9 months had stopped moving.  Words cannot express what that does to a mother , to a father , to a marriage , to a family .  We celebrated his birthday.  Oh yes! We celebrated it! Honestly, it was mostly selfish. I want to know that he has made a mark on this world. I want everyone to remember that he truly lived. I wan