I cradled her head delicately, supporting her, and felt pride in her heft, her fully developed form, this tiny human we had created together. “Is this what being a father feels like?” Then I placed her tenderly in the hospital cart, and watched as the nurse dutifully rolled her away.
Cry with me. Laugh with me. Tell me your favorite memory of me being pregnant. Tell me about your baby, and how he/she moves and grows or was born and keeps you up all night. Babies die. My baby died. It’s a fact. It’s a shallow, it’s a hole, it’s a void, I live with every single breath of my existence. Let me tell you about the cute onesie I had picked out for him. Let me tell you how precious and cute he was. How he looked like a little old man because he hadn’t fattened up yet. Let me tell you about his perfect little hook nose, and his head of hair.