
083 – Mon, Jan 29, 2018, 5:09 AM
It feels funny to say that: I miss you. It feels like there should be another word, something that acknowledges that part of what is missing is this unrealized idea.
It feels funny to say that: I miss you. It feels like there should be another word, something that acknowledges that part of what is missing is this unrealized idea.
So many people talk about God’s plan, say that they are comforted because their child is with God, because their loss must be part of some greater meaning. It just feels like a cop out to me.
My son, Adrian James Hernandez, was stillborn exactly one year ago today. And his loss was the first time in my life where there was nothing I could fight and nothing I could do or say. These are my reflections on the past year since his death.
I’ve been a little more tired lately, but I’ve been keeping myself busy. I started childbirth classes about a month ago, and I’m learning a lot about you and how I hope our child birth will go.
I’ve been feeling a lot better, so I flew to Washington D.C. this weekend to visit some old friends. We’ve all known each other for many years, and I’m glad I could spend time with them before they left the city.
The books say you like to move around a lot right now, and you did not disappoint. At one point, I even saw the bottoms of your tiny, tiny feet. I think you’re perfect 🙂
You’re a little over 10 weeks today….You have fingers and toes, and you’re growing fingernails right now. If I had an ultrasound today, you would look like a tiny little human being.