December 27, 2025

Hey buddy,

Somehow, six years is starting to feel like a lifetime away.

I think of all the versions of myself that have come and gone since then, but nothing is the same as the person that woke up on December 27, 2019.

You were my hope. I saw so much in those 11 weeks we were together (6 that I knew about); our future was set. I was so ready to be your mom. But the week leading up to that day, I also saw it all slipping away. It was like a nightmare in slow motion. I tried to shake myself awake so many times, convince myself that it was just my anxiety talking. But in think deep in my heart I knew I wouldn’t hold you. And I never will.

I wish I could hold that version of myself. Observe how I walked through that day – how I called out for your Mima (my mom, your sisters gave her that name. I wonder if you would have started the trend…) because your dad had just stepped out. How the moment I saw the red I knew it was over. How I called my OB’s office to be met nonchalance, no chance to save you. How your dad came home and took over for Mima. How he held me as I changed clothes and fell into him crying out how I couldn’t do this.

I was right and wrong. I lived it. I survived it. The week after was a lesson in advocacy for myself, my health, and most importantly, my family. That week of losing you slowly and painfully made me into the mom I am today, the one I got to be for your sisters. The one I still hope I am for you.

But I was right when I said I couldn’t lose you. I never will.

A couple of weeks before your sister was born, I had a dream that she was fused to my bones. I woke up knowing that this was the hold you and your siblings would have on me. You are so much a part of me and my every day, you’re just far away. It is so strange to miss someone who was once fused to you. I am quite literally missing a part of me, and I haven’t been the same since you left.

You were so small when we lost you, but your impact has been far greater than I could have imagined. Mommy loves telling stories, and while it’s hard, yours is my favorite to tell because it proves you were here. A lot of people know about you, isn’t that cool? And you help people go through tough times, because their families know they’re not alone. You are doing so much good in a world you spent a small amount of time in. I’m so proud to be your mom and I will never stop talking about you.

I love you, sweet boy. Say hi to your great-grandparents for me and tell them I said thanks for taking care of you.

Love you always and forever,

Mommy