His name is Macen

I prepped for what you’d wear coming home from the hospital; I never expected to prep what outfit you’d be cremated in.

I prepped for the noise and chaos of a newborn. But I never prepped for the silence that comes with a stillborn.

I prepped my going-home outfit. I never prepped for that same outfit to be the last thing I ever wear to hold you in.

I prepared for visitors in the hospital. I never prepared to tell them to hurry so you would be presentable….. because time was not our friend.

I prepped, not knowing the doctor who would perform my C-section. I never prepped for the first sentence out of his mouth to be, “I’m sorry, you lost your child.”

I prepped to bring you home. But never to a funeral home less than 24 hours after leaving the hospital to make arrangements for your funeral.

They say motherhood changes you. They say what a privilege it is. What they never say is that there is no term for a parent who lost their child. Apparently, there’s no word that’s profoundly deep enough to describe the loss of a child. I lost you at full term. Not 20 weeks, not first trimester- but the day you were scheduled to come into this world via C-section. The best morning of my life turned into the darkest, most hysterical day of my life.

At the same time, during this deep trauma, at 1: 22 pm on 1-12, the world just wasn’t prepared for the most perfect little boy to come into this world. And that’s why, in my mind, you couldn’t stay.

You see, my perfect darling boy, you were never meant to stay on this earth. Carrying you for 40 weeks was the biggest honor I’ve been awarded. I want to stay angry at the world, I want to hate everything and everyone. I want to lash out and scream. Because how cruel is it that my body grew this amazing life, only to have you taken from me the same day you were meant to come into this world? But the challenge is, the same cruel and twisted act from this world to take you from us, is from the same beautiful world that gave us you. And how can I hate a world that provided me with the most wonderful gift of all: to be your mother. Even if it’s being your mother while you are in Heaven

I never prepared for such a profound loss to make me so eternally grateful. And grateful I am. For Macen, for absolutely amazing nurses, for family, for friends, for co-workers, for Corys co-workers…. For Cory, who, even in his own grief, has gone above and beyond protecting me and advocating for me. For everyone and anything someone has done to remind us of the possibility of light in such a dark time.

You are so loved, Macen Jackson Jones. The whole world just wasn’t prepared.