I gave birth to a six-week premature boy on August 13, 1999. He was amazingly strong, yet so tiny, weighing in at five pounds even. I brought him home and loved him deeply. I ensured every need was met all the while caring for my mother who was terminally ill and my fifteen-year-old brother.

Just after midnight on April 9, 2000, my mom went into respiratory failure. She was rushed to the emergency room and approximately six hours later, was stabilized. The day continued, though lacking sleep. We ate dinner, stopped off at the hospital, and visited with my mom. Upon returning home, we prepped for bed and soon after went to sleep.

The morning of April 10 arrived rather quickly. My brother, Nick, opted to ride his bike to school that morning instead of waking me to give him a ride. I heard the door shut to the garage and leaped out of bed, as Reiley had not stirred all night. My heart sank, adrenaline pumping throughout my body, praying that my worst fears were not true; I turned on the light to see my son. I picked him up, feeling his cold body and screamed louder than I had ever screamed in my life.

I grabbed a phone and while dialing 9-1-1, began CPR on Reiley. When the officers arrived, they asked if I wanted to continue resuscitation. I begged for their help at that point, losing what sense of control I still felt. They took a stethoscope to his chest, and stood there, shaking their heads and doing nothing more.

I sank, began weeping and the only thing I wanted was my mom. I wanted for her to make it better; erase the day that began so tragically, most of all, bring my son back to my arms so I could see his beautiful blue eyes sparkling, listen to his crack-me-up laugh and feel his slobbery kisses once more.

I was in a fog with every sound falling on deaf ears. I yearned to get into a vehicle and drive for miles by myself. I wanted to be alone so I could feel the emotions that all seemed so foreign and intense. I was forced to be around people and wasn't allowed the opportunity I needed to express my own pain that surged within me.

I made the funeral arrangements, and people were notified. I did everything I could to get away from the hustle and bustle, but found that each moment I wanted to take was met with resistance of those around. Perhaps they feared I would want to take my life, but in all reality, what I wanted was to experience the pain that grew deeper within myself as each moment passed.

Everyone around was stating phrases

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