There is so much guilt. Guilt for not being more nervous than excited when I first found out I was pregnant. Guilt for caffeine consumption and not sleeping on the correct side. Guilt for my baby dying inside of me.

Chris was destined for amazing things. My pregnancy announcement was Chris Hadfield holding a sign saying “A star will be born” with an arrow to my belly.

My bleeding initially was calmed by a couple of ultrasounds and hearing baby’s heart. I was supposed to go to UC baby the next week but instead at my routine ultrasound was told my baby didn’t have a heartbeat at almost 20 weeks. I was in shock. I sat down and just cried, how would I tell my other children? I had to keep the baby inside me for almost a week since the hospital was so busy.

I had a long labour with the company of a best friend and my mom. I got to see Chris that night and the next day and kissed every inch of his little body. His body was perfect and he had a little smirk.

I had the most supportive friends and family, although my husband chose not to acknowledge, and to this day doesn’t consider Chris his son. This breaks my heart. I tried to get mental health help but a weekend baby doesn’t allow for that and my bed was needed. Not until I was forced to call the funeral home to make arrangements and I crumbled was I able to stay and get on the road to healing with a grief counsellor on Monday. I went to the IWK group counselling and then to Alex’s Safe Harbour when the counselling ended. I am sad to say Alex’s Safe Harbour has folded due to financial difficulties.

I do things in Chris’ honour like donate toys, donate blood, plant trees. I am an open book and share how I feel through blogging for my first year and now Facebook, it’s helpful and so many people have shared their story of loss with me.

I still think it’s not fair. Parents should die before their children. I am a good person, how did this happen to me? I learned there isn’t a silver lining to every story and answers are hard to come by. Three and half years later and I am still grieving. The load doesn’t get lighter, it gets easier to manage and to mask. I will never forget my Chris and will ensure the world knows his name.

                           -Roxy