Dear Alex

Today is your two-month birthday and I just wanted to take a moment to remember. I know we didn't have a lifetime together like I promised, but what time we did have together was pure magic to me. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. And I'm sorry you will miss out on meeting your Daddy and your big brother. Of all the things in this world that I would have shown you, the love in your Daddy's eyes is the one thing I'm most sad that you will never see.

He was so happy when I told him I was pregnant with you. I can still see the pure joy on his face when we found out you were a boy, and all those Daddy-type plans raced through his head. I know he so very badly wanted to show you the joy of a Colorado Rockies homerun, the thrill of looking at huge TVs, and the excitement of a good classic rock tune. I know he looked forward to seeing you and Sam grow and do boy things together.

Sweet Sam...your big brother. He wishes you were here all the time. He imagines you all around him...in his room sleeping in his bed, out in the barn "talking to the girlies," and even in his tummy sharing the swiss cake rolls he loves so much. It's impossible for him to grasp that you went away and never came home to live with us. It's impossible for me to grasp too.

I can still remember that horribly long drive home from the hospital with empty arms. I look at your empty space on the seat next to Sam in the minivan and it's like I'm reliving that awful hour over and over again. I can only tell you what an empty feeling I have when I think how you should be there on all our drives together.

There are many moments that replay in my mind. The moment you were born, I looked over and saw them lift you over onto the baby warmer and wrap you in a blanket. I can remember your bare back and your curly toes and your dark hair. I just kept wishing for your body to move, to cry, to do something that would make me wake up from this horrible nightmare. But there was nothing...just stillness and silence.

I know you were already long gone by the time you were born. But I have to have something to hang onto. Some reminder on the calendar that you were really here...even if it was for a short time. So I will celebrate your birthday every month on the 11th. Right now the celebration takes the form of tears and sadness. I hope some day it will bring smiles and warm memories. But whatever form it takes, I want you to know that I will never forget you. You took a piece of my heart with you when you left. I feel honored to have known you even a little bit. I feel blessed to be your mommy.

I love you.