I cannot hold him.
I cannot wrap him in a blanket and snuggle him close to my heart.
I cannot whisper "I love you" in his ear while he drifts off to sleep in my arms.
I cannot tickle his belly and hear the sweetness of his laugh.
I cannot comfort him with my soothing love when he cries out for me.
But I can love him. And I do so, every single moment of every single day.
I can grieve his loss, my empty arms, and my broken heart.
I can remember him. On his birthdays and the 364 days in between.
I can say his name with pride.
I can share his story.
I can keep part of him alive. His spirit. His beauty. His sacred memory.
I can show the world that I have a son who I love,
With every fragment of my heart and throughout every corner of my being.
Because even though he may not know my love yet,
I can still be his mother.
I can always be his mother.
