Dear Gus

Dear Gus,

Your dad and I ventured into dangerous conversational territory at breakfast, imagining what we might have done today if you’d been here with us. Such flights of fancy are as irresistible as they are heartbreaking. Breakfast in bed? A walk in the woods? Who can say for sure what we would have had the energy to do — you would still have been so small and new, maybe we just would have dozed the day away. I’ll never know.

I love you. I miss you. I wish you were here.

Today, something a little different: a guest appearance by Sara, Cameron’s mom and one of Gus’s aunties in our extended honorary family. She sends her love from Oregon.

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Dear Gus,

Rest in Peace, Baby Boy. I have thought about life and death a lot in my 33 years. I contemplated it nearly daily when I was sick, though from the other side of the fence. What I always thought: It’s easier for the one who leaves. When I was sick, I was always more sad thinking I’d leave my family behind. I knew how devastated they would be by my loss, and I knew how hard this life is anyway. The one who leaves, they don’t know where they’re going, they only know the hole they’ve created. And the hole they’ve created – they don’t have to live that part. Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

Today was your estimated due date. I wasn’t so naive that I believed you would really arrive on this day, but I liked the sound of it anyway: March 16th. It gave me something to fix my sights on, a handle for the vague period of time in which you could decide to make your debut. So much crisper than “mid-March” or “early spring.”

Your dad and I have been talking about you and going to our support group and trying to let ourselves feel all of the shitty feelings that come with the territory. (And yes, I would have tried to reign in my profane tendencies if you were here with us now. But you’re not, so fuck it.) Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

While we’ve been staring down the approach of your due date on March 16th, the time has come for us to welcome another new cousin into our lives. Casey was born early this morning in New Orleans. I am so grateful that he arrived safely, and I think I can fully appreciate how bursting with joy your aunt and uncle must be at this moment.

We knew that this day, when it came, would be a tough one for us; we had looked forward to this birth almost as eagerly as we anticipated yours. I had envisioned so many happy moments for the pair of you: two babies propped up together for a photo op, two toddlers digging in the sand on the beach, two little boys chasing each other through the woods around our house. But now you are lost, and this little person will forever remind me of what is missing. All of his milestones — first steps, first words, first time behind the wheel of a car — will be what should have been yours too. I imagine that this will be both torture and comfort. Time will tell. I hope I will summon the strength to honor him for who he is in his own right.

Dear Gus,

I’ve been a babylost dad for eight weeks now. You were with us on January 5th and then not. Since then, I have been searching for signs of you everywhere, wondering where you had gone and if you were ever coming back.

I often imagine peeking in the window while I’m outside working around the house to see you at home here with us. You’d be latched on to your mom while Milo lurks somewhere in the background, anxiously waiting for you to go away for a nap. I can sympathize with his jealousy, with all of the attention being heaped upon you by your mom. Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

It’s your babylost dad. I love you. It’s Valentine’s Day, making it nearly six weeks since we said hello and kissed you goodbye. Your mom and I miss you very much.

As I sit in the early morning light sipping a hot cup of decaf, our cat Milo roams the house anxiously howling. He gets that way when things aren’t quite in order. This morning, the source of his agita is my presence in the living room writing to you instead of being upstairs in a warm bed with your mom on a typical cold February morning. As a cat, everything needs to be just so for him. Meals regularly scheduled, a spotless litter box, comfy unobstructed places for him to sit and your mom and I both together in the same room. Everything accounted for and in its place. This morning, something is not as it should be and it troubles him. I know how he feels.
Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

Last night at our support group meeting, someone mentioned that Newsweek
had just run an article about stillbirth that focuses on a volunteer organization of professional photographers who make portraits of stillborn babies and their parents.

While we were not given the option of contacting that organization — we didn’t even hear about them until weeks later — the hospital staff did try to capture your image. Someone put you on a bed with an assortment of bizarre props and snapped a few photos, crowded and unevenly exposed. In the dim haze of our shock, it never occurred to us to ask anyone to take a family portrait.
Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

There are so many people who couldn’t wait to meet you and love you. In my insular grief, it is easy for me to overlook the fact that your dad and I were not the only people who lost someone when you died. Our friends and family will miss you too.

And yet even amidst their own shock and grief, the tribe gathered around to help hold us up. They jumped in from those first horrific moments and they continue to amaze me with their compassion. They have found so many creative and heartfelt ways to support us:
Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

Your cousin Jillian was born tonight, four weeks to the day since we kissed you goodbye in this life. Her arrival marks the first in a series of difficult hurdles for me and your dad in the days ahead. During our halcyon pregnancy days, we were just one of seven couples we knew who were due in February and March. Now we are not.
Read the rest of this entry »

Dear Gus,

The day before we went into the hospital, I emailed a local diaper delivery outfit to inquire about their services. In the immediate aftermath of our disaster, I didn’t notice that they hadn’t responded. So I was completely unprepared for their cheerful note in my inbox this morning, apologizing for their three-week delay in responding, and outlining their rates and routes.
Read the rest of this entry »