Andrew Marion Hix

When she told me she was pregnant, I was ecstatic!

Not only was I shocked from the news that 9 years of trying had paid off, but I was even shocked with the degree of my own excitement. I was every synonym for 'thrilled'.

"I'm so happy for you, so happy for you, so happy!"

Jumping up and down, literally bouncing from my joy that she was going to be a mom. If anyone deserved it, I knew it was my friend.

I dreamed of her little girl that would have matching gorgeous, hazel eyes, or those lush lips to drive the boys crazy... Her mother's genuine caring glance.Her boy was going to be a miniature version of her husband, mischievous and teasing, fun and energetic. I dreamed of my close friend and his little replica.

Their growing family filled the back of my heart and mind with such an eagerness. Counting the times I had felt such an ache for my friend, thinking she just couldn't have children, it wasn't meant to be. I felt a desperation for it to be just right. Just like they deserve, after 9 years, this is their moment for everything to be just right. Meant to be.

Maybe it was my own personal struggle that drew me to the seemingly fate-filled resolution that was my friend's pregnancy. My desire to never have children, by choice, had always been very overwhelming for me. I simply didn't argue with the urge to 'just say no'. However, my friend's pre-determined lack of choice in the matter, really made me think about what I was denying myself. What I was denying my partner.

It had never occurred to me that they were trying, had tried, or were interested in having children. I figured they didn't try, weren't interested, didn't want children. When she directly addressed the issue, I didn't realize at first what was being suggested. She confessed her feelings in such a way that it was obvious she had worked it out so long ago. It didn't scare her as you'd think it would.

In different words, she told me that she was barren as a trade off for something she had done in her past. Not so much in the 'guilty for her sins' kind of way.

I was inspired to imagine wanting to experience that myself. She gave me a new way to look at my own personal struggles with the idea of having children. When I found out she was pregnant, I felt unbelievable relief and gratitude that she no longer had to feel exiled for a love that she had lost a decade before. There was no trade off, the time just wasn't right. This time was right, in so many ways, it was right this way ten years ago.

Around the second trimester, they decided to move into the apartment right above mine. Now my dreams were full of little people feet above my head. Feet that I can visit any time. Feet that would teach me about parenthood and new life. I was going to share in the firsts. There was no better way to gain the knowledge I felt I lacked as a woman made to raise children. I felt as if my friends' baby was going to be my way of helping them, myself, my relationship, my lack of "motherly confidence", my lack of "children experience", the expectations I put on this child's life were simply disgusting for a friend to have. Perhaps endearing none-the-less.

I wanted so much to have this little person in my life. I wanted to learn everything a child could teach. I wanted to experience his/her life struggles, cheers, tears, and joys. I was going to be involved in every way I could.

On Saturday, I got the baby shower invitation a week before the event. I knew I was going soft - that diaper shaped card was freakin' adorable! I was so excited, just two more months and we'd all have a little person to play with!

The following Tuesday, I got the message from my friend's husband.

"I guess we had a kid today... Call me, or come to the hospital." He was sober, happy you could tell, but very mature. Not the usual energetic messages he normally left.

At the hospital that night, my boyfriend and I sat with my friend, drained from all the days events. From the 9:30am Dr's appointment, to the 10am emergency C-Section, followed by the 11am flying of her new born to a Children's Hospital in Oklahoma City, he was in critical condition, and my friend was critically exhausted.

"He'll be just fine! They do this all the time! This is what they do!"

Seven weeks early isn't how you want to start your child's life, but you do what you've got to do. The pictures of him in that bubble. Most children start with blankets, his was a security POD.

I was bouncing off the walls. Yay! There's a little one here, he's the answer to so many of my dreams. I was so happy for my friend, her new family, their new little person!

It never occurred to me that he could die. Not until five hours after he had.

What more did my friend have to do? Had she truly not paid her dues? Seriously? To wait nine years to have your first child. Nine years of trying, hoping, praying even when you don't pray. She didn't touch a drop of alcohol during her pregnancy. All she ate was fruit. She never touched caffeine or greasy foods. She was going to have a healthy pregnancy.

And yet they say it just wasn't meant to be.

THIS WAS MEANT TO BE. THIS was everything. This was their new life. Their new love. This was meant to be.

What more did my friend have to do? After he was delivered, his heart stopped. She watched, helpless as they brought her baby back to life. She watched him lay lifeless once already, wasn't that enough? She never held him, as they rushed him to another city, another hospital, anywhere but with her.

It wasn't until 8am Wednesday, 30 mins after he had passed, that she got to hold her beautiful baby boy for the first time.

"He had the most perfect little lips, perfect little nose, perfect eyelashes... He was perfect..." Her pain was so real, so agonizing to watch and share, so much for one person to have.

What do you do? What do you say? How do you cope? How do you move forward? How do you not think about what was supposed to happen? How do you not dream of what was going to be? His little feet above my head... They weren't going to happen? They weren't going to be there? He'd never crawl, walk, or run? Never smile, laugh or cry? He'd never be, again, ever, anymore? It wasn't meant to be? This was meant to be?

No words, Michelle. No words. I have no words that will ever express this grief. No words. No god damn words for this. No god damn reason for this. No damn anything that makes this anything than what it is.

I'm so sorry.