"Love, you're not alone, cause I'm gonna stand by you."
Dear son, 5 years, 11 months and one day ago, they told me you would die. They told me were broken. I sat with your dad on the wrong side of the desk at the specialty OBGYN's office, hot tears falling down my face praying they were wrong. The words from that day are seared in my brain forever. They changed me. They made me stronger. They hit me like a hard punch to the gut taking my breath away. All along, I knew the words were coming. I knew you were sick but nothing prepared me for the words, "prepare for a burial". Nothing. In a way, that fairytale idea I had with my previous pregnancies that everything would always be okay shattered like a piece of broken glass that can't be put back together. Every year, around this time I feel it. I didn't even realize why I'd been acting so crazy the last couple days till "Stand by You" by Rachel Platten came on the radio and I cried like a baby. Tomorrow, we head to a state 4 hours away looking for