I can't believe its been a year already. My life has started over, brand new. I'm here now because I want closure: it's been hard for me, but I made it. Peter has come with me because he knows how much it means to me, how much it means to both of us. The old majestic tower of the church, the long tall monticello windows. I wanted my house to have those, so a lot of sun could come in.
       Anyway, walking up the stone walkway gives me the chills, but I know that Peter is there, holding my hand. I take a deep breath as we come to the small graveyard, mostly holding the names of ancestors long gone. Although, there is one small area marked off for "new comers". I look up in the sky and see the overcast clouds swirling above me, and I know they aren't threatining, just as they were that one day.
       Peter wraps his strong arm around me and guides me to the small grave with the now wilting flowers. I can feel my eyes sting with tears as they always do when I come here, but I dont cry. I kneel down and replace the old flowers with the new: daisies. The smell of them makes me smile sadly.
      I hug Peter tightly as i watch the daisies blow gently in the breeze. Remembering what happend still hurts, but I know now it will be okay. I know that Sean is safe now, that he wont have to suffer anymore.
    Sean is my son, he was born today, March 14, in 1998. This would have been his first birthday. My pregnancy was normal, I went into labor on schedule, right on time. After he was born, the doctors whisked him away, and it didn't occur to me at the time that I didn't hear him crying. Peter was trying so hard to find out what was going on, but none of the doctors or nurses would tell him.
     It would have been almost a half hour before I had any idea of what just happend. Peter finally got a hold of a doctor and when he walked back to me he had an odd look of sadness and confusion on his face. I tried to get him to tell me what was wrong, but he wouldn't tell me either.
     Just then the head doctor came over and talked to both of us. He didn't say much, I dont remember too much of it, maybe because I dont want to, but he said something about a "still birth" and "unexpected complications". I couldn't bear the news about it, I didn't know what to belive, I didn't want to believe it.

 

     My baby was gone, I wouldn't bring him home that day, the day after, nor days after that. My first child was a still birth. The doctors said it was because the umbilicle cord was wrapped around Sean's neck four times. They didn't know why the baby showed no signs of stress. That is why they didn't do anything sooner.

      So now, I am at my son's grave, the tombstone that reads "Sean: Loved Son, Will Never Be Forgotten". Peter is holding me by my waist, I lay a rock on the stone, and I realize now that eventhough he is physically gone, he will always be in my heart forever.