It’s 5:32 AM, September 23rd. About nine hours ago I delivered a beautiful baby boy, Scotty Michael Jeffers. He was perfect. So perfect. He had a head full of dark hair, the most beautiful lips, and HUGE hands and feet. He was so much more than I ever imagined him to be.

My baby boy.

Around six hours ago his daddy and I said goodbye to his lifeless, but perfect body.

I can’t even begin to process the hell we’ve been living in.

On Friday, I went into my 28 week appointment, drank my glucose drink, made small talk with the Doctor and Nurse and a half hour later was told my baby didn’t have a heartbeat.

No reason.

He was so, so healthy.

Nobody has answers. Nobody can tell us why. It wasn’t long ago that his little heart stopped beating. They tell me it’s not my fault.

Steven and I, along with our parents who have stepped in to take shifts between taking care of us and Lyla, have been in a fog of hell.

Yesterday Steven did the hardest thing any parent has to do- make arrangements with a funeral home.

A few hours ago my body did the hardest thing a woman’s body can endure- child birth.

And now, we wait. We wait for this pain to dull over time but never go away.

I’ll hold onto the time I had with him forever. His life was nothing we imagined it to be, he was meant for so much more.

And as the last kiss I gave his sweet head lingers on my lips, I know his life will never be forgotten and instead, Scotty Michael’s memory will be what fuels our family in the seconds, minutes, and hours to come.