Seven on the Seventh.

Seven years ago, Phillip wrote this blog post on my old old blog.

Later, that night, at 8:11, Evan was born. He was way too tiny to survive. Has it really been seven years? That day will forever be one of the worst days of our lives. And the days/weeks/months that followed were among the darkest days for us. We’ve healed probably as much as we ever will, but we will always have moments that bring us to our knees. Losing a child, even a tiny one, is more devastating than I can put into words. Because every little life matters. Every. Single. One.

We have Mikey, and subsequently the girls, because Evan died. That will always be a hard pill to swallow. There are things in life that we just can’t justify or make any sense of no matter how hard we try. Losing Evan will never be okay with me. It will never make sense. I will always ache to have him back. But having him back would mean not having the life and the children that we have now.

Anyway, it’s been seven years. And if you think seven years is enough time for me to stop talking about him, writing about him, I forgive your lack of understanding. Because the only way you can understand is if you’ve been through it, and I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on anyone. And if it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t apologize. Because if I don’t speak up to remember his little life, who will? And our son deserves to be remembered.

I haven’t shared this memory of Evan before on my blog. And I think I’ve only spoken it out loud to Phillip. Of all the things about Evan that break my heart, it’s this that breaks my heart the most. As much as Jackson looks like me, Evan looked like Phillip. I believe he would have grown up to look very much like Phillip. They had the exact same nose.

I wish that I could see what his seven year old face would look like today. But I know someday I will. And I hold onto that hope.