Daddy Moment

One year ago, yesterday, May 26th, we found out that Joel, our son, would never cry to us for comfort, never stare into our souls with wide, wondering eyes, never squeeze our fingers with his small, searching grasp; our son, still cradled lovingly in my wife's womb, had died.

I remember thinking of him as a rambunctious child. He seemed to make it a point to startle his mother with oddly-timed and placed kicks and pinches in utero. I remember her crying out in the bath one night; Joel had apparently dropkicked her spleen. She was laughing; I was enamored, watching the water tremor, and even splash a little, from the force of his kicks. That night we knew we had one special little man on the way.

After he was born, one year ago tomorrow, May 28th, still and beautiful, with a head of hair you wouldn't believe; perfect in every way but the most important, I accompanied one of the nurses to take his picture. It was my one moment where I got to do a real "parent thing": adjusting his little cap, tucking his blanket up around him - just grooming him for his perfect portrait. (It HAD to be perfect)

Thank you, Joel, for the comforts and joys you've brought us; the way you've touched our souls and forever left your print on our hearts.

Happy Birthday, little bud.