That Day...

The light shined through the window that morning cascading an eerie blue across the room. I rolled over and kissed him on the tip of his nose. He sighed, smiled and rubbed my tummy. "I love you both," he whispered.

He danced and sang his favorite song as he dressed. His green eyes lit up so bright and full of life. He twirled me and held me close. So close…

His eyes told me that something was wrong. They were red and tears were falling from them. He held my feet and put his head down on the examination bed. The doctor's coat and its pockets full of pens. Her sad eyes looked at me as she wrote in her folder. I couldn't hear anything. What was happening?

I laid there in the bed with the tubes pushing coldness into my veins, into my lungs. I could only feel heaviness, coldness, pain. No lights as the shadows around my bed danced. Always changing, always moving. Where am I?

It was so quiet. I laid there with my eyes closed praying for sound. There was nothing. I looked up and saw their faces filled with sadness and tears. The hands touching me as the pain numbed. I held him close. He was so small and perfect. A tiny replica of our two beings merged. He slept. He looked so peaceful. This isn't how it was supposed to be.

He whispers. "I love you. Don't leave me. Stay with me." He holds my hand crying. I see him but I can't move. I see him…

We sleep. We don't care anymore. "What is the use?" we ask ourselves.

We don't talk anymore. We never see each other. We sleep.

He is never there. It is night and I am alone. It is morning and I am alone.

We cry. We hold each other and cry. I don't want to let go but he loosens my hands and walks out. I am alone. What happened?



In memory of my son. Anthony Gabriel Baker. Born and died January 16, 2008