You are cherished beyond measure, and I want the world to understand just how special you are.
Reflecting on the Beginning
Let me take you back to the beginning. About nine months ago, as I was preparing for a work event in a hotel room in downtown Chicago, I decided to take a pregnancy test—just to be sure. After all, a couple of glasses of wine make forced networking much easier. Surprise—positive! Here comes the awkward small talk.
Many might have felt overwhelmed at the thought of another child when I already had an 11-month-old and a toddler at home. However, from the moment that test turned positive, my heart filled with joy as I thought of you. I envisioned the adventures your siblings, Lily and Noah, would share with you. I was excited about how effortlessly your father, Mark, and I had created you (or so I believed at the time). I couldn’t wait for Noah to take on the role of big brother and for Lily to continue to thrive as a big sister.
A Different Feeling
This time felt different. In my previous pregnancies, I had experienced shock and apprehension. But with you, I felt a deep sense of purpose—this was the moment our family could expand with even more love.
Over the next few months, I spent a lot of time dreaming about you and the joy you would bring to our family. I imagined you inheriting my hazel eyes (a trait neither of your siblings has). I pictured you possessing Lily’s tenacity mixed with Noah’s affectionate nature. I hoped you’d be the first to master sleeping through the night, sparing me the need for a Magic Sleepsuit to keep my sanity intact.
I envisioned us taking winter walks bundled up in the cozy snowsuit we bought for you, sharing quiet moments over coffee and stories, waiting for the weather to warm up—probably not until spring in Chicago. I dreamed of the day I would drop you off at college, the last of my children to leave the nest, and how emotional that moment would be.
The Joy of Anticipation
Those four months, although you didn’t yet fill our lives with the same chaos as your siblings, your presence was felt deeply in my heart. I loved you more with each passing day, especially after week 11 when the morning sickness faded. Mother’s Day that year was particularly special. As we picnicked in the park, I could feel you there, completing our family of five as your siblings played gleefully on top of me.
The Heartbreaking Change
But then, everything changed. On a Monday morning, Mark and I took Lily to a doctor’s appointment where we would see a picture of you. Although we already knew you were a boy, we wanted to keep the excitement alive for Lily. Initially, it was a joyful occasion; we discussed your heartbeat, which was strong and beautiful.
However, the news was devastating. The doctor revealed that your limbs and rib cage were underdeveloped, making it impossible for your lungs to grow—the very organs that you needed to breathe once born. We later learned that you had a rare condition called osteogenesis imperfecta type II, which caused your bones to be extraordinarily fragile. It was heartbreaking to know that you would have suffered if you had continued to grow.
Saying Goodbye
Saying goodbye to you was the hardest thing I have ever done. I wish I had felt you kick more before I had to let you go. I only felt you move three times, and Mark never got to feel you at all. I wish I had spent more time talking to you, expressing my love and dreams for you.
This is a story about loss and love, about how on June 1, 2021, I lost my precious son. After receiving a shocking diagnosis, we had to make the unbearable decision to let you go. I gave birth to you at Riverside Hospital, and although your heartbeat had faded, I held you close for as long as I could, cherishing every moment. We named you Oliver Beau, and I will never forget the time we shared, however brief.
The Importance of Advocacy
This story also highlights the importance of advocating for oneself. I faced pressure from a doctor who tried to push me toward a procedure I didn’t want. Had I listened, I would never have held you in my arms or found out the truth about your condition.
Science played a crucial role in understanding what happened to you. About six weeks after your passing, we received a call from the genetic lab confirming the specific mutation that caused your condition. They assured us that this was likely a random event and should not affect future pregnancies.
A Journey of Healing
This narrative is also about the personal journey of healing. I still face reminders of our loss, and some days feel harder than others. Yet I find hope in the possibility of growing our family and the joy that comes with welcoming new life.
A Story for You
Most importantly, this is a story for you, Oliver. I may not be able to celebrate your birthday or witness your milestones, but you will always be in my heart. I want to share your story with the world, to honor you and the love that exists even in loss.
Resources for Others
For those navigating similar journeys, consider exploring resources like Wikipedia’s article on artificial insemination for valuable information. If you’re interested in at-home options, check out this post for insights on insemination kits. Additionally, this authority on home insemination can provide further guidance.
In Summary
In summary, this letter is a heartfelt tribute to my son, Oliver Beau, and an exploration of love, loss, and the journey of healing.
Keyphrase: “baby loss”
Tags: [“home insemination kit”, “home insemination syringe”, “self insemination”]