The hardest physical sensation was the one without a name. It was the thing I felt when I woke up in the morning and my son wasn’t crying. It was the feeling in my arms when they curled around the teddy bear from the hospital, but still felt empty. It was the physical feeling of absence. It felt so heavy.
I left the hospital in a fugue state. I had thought I was “okay,” but as the first notes of music came on the car stereo, the tears returned. My sister reached across and held my hand, my other hand other clutching the teddy bear from the hospital. I was thankful then for the weight of the bear. It was exactly what I needed.
I’ve written about this moment several times since that day. It is an ever-present memory; I will take it to my grave. I remember the doctor’s face as he said the words, “I’m sorry.” My next memory is of someone screaming. It was me.
My name is Miranda Hernandez. I am a single mother by choice. My son Adrian passed away on 29 June 2017, and was stillborn the following day. I will love and honor him for the rest of my life.
