Baby loss awareness day may fall in October for the rest of the world, but for me, it always will fall on December 22nd.
On this day, two years ago, our dear friends met their little boy.
One hour later, they said goodbye to him.
Three days before Christmas, they saw for a brief moment their greatest gift and watched helplessly as the life slide from his body, forever.
I've never lost a pregnancy or a child. I don't know their pain. But every December 22nd, my heart aches for the little boy that should have been my daughter's playmate and pal; for the little boy who should have been the light of my friends' lives.
I'll never forget the frantic call of my friend, as he raced to the hospital. I'll never forget the call one hour later, where he told me the baby had died. My huge pregnant belly rolled out of bed and trembling hands, heart and lips handed my husband the phone. Even though we never met, I'll never forget this little boy, who for a brief moment lived in our world and thereby touched our lives and hearts with his tiny presence.
Every year, I light a candle for him and say a prayer for them.
While Anderson may have never been able to play with my daughter, I know he's an angel looking down on us all.