Twenty-five years ago my eldest son and firstborn child breathed his last breath.

I thought about his life all night, the impact he made on me. Seven months, that is how long this bubbly, chubby, playful, wise spirited, little caramel baby boy spent on Earth. I often wonder if God knew his beginning would be vastly different from his ending. I know God was with him when his long eye lashes flutter at the nurse. She told me he turned to her, smiled his apple cheek smile and closed his eyes, that was it, he was gone.

I wondered about his final moments as I was racing through the hospital procedures to get to his room. I couldn't will the elevator to go to the unit fast enough. I was anxious and just wanted to bring his favorite stuffed toy and cradle him in my arms. The doctors met me at the elevator, they ushered me into a big room, filled with doctors and nurses. "I'm sorry, your son expired at 9:22am." It was just 9:35am. How could God not wait 13 more minutes? I remember screaming and running for the door, I remember strong arms grabbing me and sitting me down. "The nurses are preparing him so you can see him." "No, I want to see him now!" They took me back to the room, tubes and wires were everywhere, he just looked like he was sleeping.

I pondered my life without him. I was only eighteen years old, a teenage mother, a daughter who disappointed her father, so naive and so young, I was so young. I couldn't fathom my life now. I held his stuffed crocodile to my chest and smelled his smell. I cuddled and cradled his clothes. I wanted to hold him. I wanted to pick him up out of that casket, so little and white, the box that was holding my son. I wanted to nuzzle him to my neck and ruffle his head of curly hair. I had no words for who I would be now.

I hibernated in my aunt's attic apartment until six months passed. I read books, I read the Bible, I went to church, I cried, I hoped, I slept. I just stayed there, I didn't want to talk to my father, my family, no one who had turned away from me when I was a frightened teenage mother, I wanted my son back and they couldn't bring him back. I waited until the person who caused the death of my son was convicted and sent to prison. I pondered my new life.

I packed my clothes and all my belongings. I packed a few of his things and gave the rest to another baby boy who needed them. I sat in the backseat of the car as it traveled the four states back to my father's house.

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