At the time I found out I was pregnant with Rossi, Chris and I were at a point in our lives where children, family, and relationships were definitely not on our radar. We were two people used to living selfishly and freely, which is what we intended on continuing for the foreseeable future.

That was until our son came into our lives, and suddenly things would never be the same.

We were two flawed, yet well-intentioned people who decided to make it work for the sake of our baby boy on the way. We did just that. For two people who never thought they would be parents, we both fit into our new roles so naturally. Chris constantly played games with his son as Rossi loved to kick his hand from the inside. I cradled my belly just as I would him when he would finally make it Earthside. I sang him songs and wrote to him in a journal I intended on giving him when he was older. We dubbed Rossi ‘Our little monkey’ because of how active he always was, and bought his nursery decor to match his animal counterpart.

At every appointment, we were reassured every time that our boy was healthy as can be. To be honest, I never worried about him much anyway. I felt invincible with him growing inside me, and for the first time in my life, I wasn’t so scared of what was to come.

That all changed on July 18th, 2016. I had tried every tip and trick to get Rossi to move to no avail. I tried not to panic, though I felt like I had just rolled off Cloud Nine face first into hot gravel.

We decided to go to the hospital. It wasn’t long till after we had arrived that they confirmed that Rossi no longer had a heartbeat.

After being induced, I gave birth to him the next day. All I had to commemorate his brief life was nothing but his footprints and a card.

I left with no answers. My perfectly healthy baby died. I looked for him everywhere. In the sky, in my home, at the end of every bottle. I couldn’t feel him anymore and I wanted to die. I constantly was tortured with wondering…why couldn’t they take me? Why him? Why my sweet and precious baby boy, who was nothing but perfect? Why?

In the weeks and months that followed, our dear boy was in a little glass bottle instead of our arms. I prayed every day for the grief to catch up with me and take me wherever he was.

Now, all I have is hope. I hope that he is warm, I hope that he is held. I hope that he was met with all of his family that arrived before him. I hope that he is happy, that he is safe. I hope he knows that he deserved to be here and that he is so loved. I hope he knows that I will meet him someday, and that I will remember him everyday until that time comes.

Until then, sleep tight, my little monkey. Mama is always near.

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