A letter to Boe on his second birthday

Dear Boe,

Two years ago today, you changed our lives forever. Two years ago today, we lost so much. In an instant, we lost our son, our innocence, our hopes, dreams and aspirations. We lost "normal" and the Kirsten and Adam we used to be. In an instant, it seemed that we lost everything.

Yet, even in the midst of unbelievable shock and pain, we also gained a lot, too. We gained your brothers, Adler and Cameron, we gained the true meaning of sacrifice and heroism, we gained the knowledge that, in an instant, life can change and everything you thought you knew, everything you believed in, dreamed of and hoped for, is up for grabs; nothing is sacred, nothing is for certain, and nothing is guaranteed.

Our eyes were opened wider than we ever thought they could be to sights so simultaneously beautiful and wrought with pain, that we truly did not know whether we should laugh or cry, so we did both. We learned that, despite our best efforts, this thing called life is truly out of our hands. Someone else is in control, and we are merely along for the ride.

Boe, today it has been 2 years since you died. Two years since we lost you physically, but gained an angel. It has been 2 years since we held you in our arms, but you have been held in our hearts and minds every moment since. It has been 2 years since you died and were born, 2 years since a part of us died and, in its place, a new more aware and open part was born. It has been 2 years, and I still miss you like hell, but I am able to remember you with a smile more frequently than with tears. It has been 2 years, and tonight I will light 2 candles, and rather than blow them out, they will remain lit, for to keep them lit is to keep a piece of you alive.

Happy birthday, Boe. I love you and miss you more than words can say.

Closing in...

It is approaching... The 2 year anniversary of Boe's death, and my boys' birthday. I have found myself thinking of "Two years ago today, I was..." a lot recently. I realized that I started doing this around the 1st of April. That is when my perinatologist decided to hospitalize me for observation while he was out of town. I was 29 weeks pregnant.

This week it is "Two years ago today was the last time I saw Boe's heartbeat". The last time I knew he was safe, alive; the last time I was "normal". I don't really play the "what if" game except in one instance, and it centers around this day, April 19th.

I had gone in for a Biophysical profile. Basically, they looked for heartbeats, breathing, movement, and possibly even hiccups from the boys. If they did all of these things, they "passed". On this day, it took the nurse a long time to locate Boe and get a steady reading on him. I really did not think too much of it because he was under Adler and Cameron and had always been a little tricky to find. When she did find him, he was fine. His heartbeat was normal, he was moving and practicing his breathing.

Now, looking back on that day, I wonder "what if"? What if she had been concerned that she had so much trouble getting a good read on him? What if he had failed even one point of his profile and she had called my doctor in for more careful observation? What if the boys had been delivered that day? Would Boe have survived? Would he have been OK?

Sunday is their birthday. It will be a joyous day, filled with laughter and fun. It will also be a bittersweet day filled with a hint of sadness. Sadness over the loss of what should have been, sadness over the knowledge that there is a piece of the puzzle that is missing, sadness over the candle left lit and not blown out. Sadness is closing in, and just as quickly as it comes, it will be wiped away by the joy that comes from being his mommy.