My Soul Exposed

In loving memory of my son, Dylan Kyle.

May his angel's wings continue to flutter in my ears.

BPOV

It's been three years today.

Sometimes I lay and stare at the blank wall just so I can imagine what your face would look like.

I wanted you so desperately.

Sometimes, I think that my love smothered you.

My heart longs deeply for you but after I lost you, my soul yearned for you with a depth like I had never known before.

I wonder what your cry would sound like.

I imagine the color of your eyes.

Would you be tall like your dad?

Would you have freckles like me?

My son...our son...my baby boy.

I hope you can feel my love in the afterworld.

I hope my tears don't bring you pain.

I had prayed for you for so many years.

I had been overjoyed when I found out about you.

I woke up that morning and felt odd. I didn't know what was wrong.

I hadn't felt you move in three days, which had me worried.

By the time I got to the hospital the blood was too much.

We couldn't find your heartbeat and I wailed in agony.

My mother tried to soothe me.

Your daddy tried to appease me.

All I wanted was you.

They forced me into labor, but you were already gone.

Your cord had wrapped around your neck.

I cried rivers of tears at the knowledge that you had experienced pain while inside of me and I never even knew.

I was your mother, yet I couldn't protect you. Not even from my body, your growth chamber.

I remember the pain during your delivery.

I remember that moment that you didn't cry, you never took a single breath on this earth.

My hand was held.

My tears were wiped away.

Words of sorrow were spoken.

They cleaned you off.

They swaddled you in handmade blankets and dressed you in clothes with care.

Your daddy cried and squeezed my hands.

Your grandma shed more tears than I'd ever seen from her before.

Your aunt held you in her arms and the hurt was evident in her stance.

When they finally placed you in my hands I held in the sob that I wanted to release.

My son.

My baby boy.

You were so beautiful, a perfect mixture of your daddy and me.

His chin, my nose, ten fingers, ten toes.

I held you, I touched you, I stared at you for hours.

They finally came and took you away.

Arrangements had to be made.

A shocking reminder of the finality of it all, that you were gone.

I cry now because I can't remember if I kissed you or not. I can't remember if I swaddled you tight to my bosom and rocked you back and forth.

It was so cold...the wind was like knives that pricked at my skin as we laid you to rest.

All of our family gathered to say goodbye.

They kissed me. They hugged me. They whispered words of condolence.

None of that mattered.

You were gone.

We laid you to rest in a small grave in a white and blue box.

I made sure to tuck a bunny and a letter in with you.

I needed you to know that I loved you, cherished you, and wanted you with every fiber of my being.

That night your daddy and I lay in bed, back to back with one another, and cried until our eyes went dry.

I still carry your obituary in my wallet.

I have a box of your things on the top shelf of my closet.

I speak your name as often as I can.

Your daddy walked away from me, he couldn't handle my pain.

He couldn't handle your death any more than I could.

When he sees me, he's reminded of you. He still loves me as I still love him, but without you to bind us together, we're two empty souls that float aimlessly in the night.

So, here I am today, alone to celebrate your birth...and mourn your death.

Rest in peace, my son, for my love will forever bind you to my heart.

A/n: As you may have guessed, Bella's story is my very own. I wrote this because I pour so much of myself into every fic that I write and I felt that my beloved son deserved a tribute of his own.

You see, I went through 2 husbands and over 10 yrs of fertility treatments only to be told that there was no hope for me to conceive or carry a child. So, I silently let my dreams of motherhood fade to black.

Shortly after I separated and filed for divorce from hubs#2 a miracle happened in that a pregnant woman of a friend approached me about adopting her unborn child. After a lot of soul-searching I made the choice to become a single mother.

My beloved daughter has been mine since she was 2 minutes of her birth mother's womb. She is the absolute joy of my life. I live and breathe for that child.

When she was almost 8 months old I discovered that I was pregnant. I was in an unhealthy, adulterous relationship and couldn't have been more shocked. But, in the same breathe I was overjoyed to become a mom again.

When I was 20 weeks along I was told I was having a son...a matching set; a boy and a girl. My idealistic life would be complete with my children in tow.

However, at 21 ½ weeks I became the mother to one living and one dead child.

If it hadn't been for my daughter I don't know how I would have survived the pain.

Even now, three years later I still struggle to share in the joy of a friend or family members news of a pregnancy or the birth of a child. Especially when it's a little boy.

But, I know my son is my guardian angel, wrapped in the arms of my loved one's that he's surrounded by in the realm he lives in.

I will forever miss my precious son...and yearn to wrap my arms around him.

Thank you for reading and today, on his birthday I say... RIP Dylan Kyle...mommy loves you very much.