Still

I never had the strongest maternal instincts, though when we decided to start a family, I was all in and 100% committed. When I saw the blue plus-sign on the pee stick, I knew I was done for - you know, I try not to do things half-assed, and right then I knew being a parent would rock my world and our child, still a zygote at that point, would steal my heart.

I was blessed with the wondrous gift of carrying around a brand new human being, made by me and the love of my life, for seven months and six days. From the moment his new life started, he depended absolutely on me and this affected nearly every action I took and decision I made, including consideration of every single thing I put into my body and every single thing that came out of my body.

I loved being pregnant - this was without doubt the happiest time of my life yet. I felt good, I looked good and I was bubbling over with joy. I read about pregnancy whenever I had a question but I didn't buy and consult a library of maternity tomes and texts - taking the pregnancy seriously but not making it scary.

But sometimes the best intentions and the best actions, the kick counts, the prenatal vitamins, the healthiest meals of steamed kale, brown rice and wild salmon, the ultrasounds to peek in on his amniotic world, and the sweetest baby clothes just are not enough, and I am so sad to tell you that he didn't make it.

It has been eight days since he was delivered (on Good Friday) - nearly two months early, stillborn, and to a mother suffering from severe pre-eclampsia. I've drifted around sort of like a ghost since that time, a shadow of my former self who frankly, thinks it's a miracle someone can hurt so much and still keep breathing.

In the days that followed the time in the hospital, K. and I clung to whatever remained - which was, for us, each other. It was a quiet, and precious time - bittersweet in that though I hadn't thought it possible, our shared tragedy and heartbreak actually brought us closer together.

You know when people say nothing is sacred anymore? We're experiencing the opposite. Nothing is secret, all is sacred. He's seen me screaming in labour, we've wept til we could barely breathe, and we've held our son together in our arms when he came into a world he had already left behind.

What I do know is that while talking and crying about it is very therapeutic...real, true, found- my-life-partner-and-equal-match kind of love, and the honest, I'd-do-anything-to-help kind of love of family and friends is what gets you through the darkest moments of your life.

It's going to be a long road, my friends, and I might be here only sporadically for some time but I thought I was finally strong enough to let you all know.

Our boy is gone. My God, do I miss him.