Dear Little Man,
This is Mommy again. You were born today. I started having contractions at 3am, and the medical team at New Hanover Regional Medical Center refused to stop my labor despite my many (adamant) requests that they do so. I had no fever, no uterine tenderness (besides the godawful contractions) and they had no proof other than the fact that I had been ruptured for so long. So they refused to do anything and let me labor a dry birth without pain management until 12:33pm when you were born. You came out just like you have always been–a fighter. You were trying to take a breath, but you just weren’t big enough. The doctors at this hell hole wouldn’t even hold me off long enough to finish the beta methazone for your lungs. They played God today and we lost. I had been denying the “undeniable” urge to push for three hours when you were finally born. When I felt your head outside of my cervix, I knew that it was over. We fought so good, Carter Samuel. We really did. But in the end it just wasn’t enough. I’m so fucking sorry. In the end my body betrayed us both.
You are so perfect. Ten beautiful little fingers and toes, even though you got your Daddy’s feet, an adorable button nose. Perfect little baby lips. You didn’t have any hair yet and your eyelids were still fused, so I don’t know what color hair or eyes you would have had. I’ll always wonder. You were so incredibly small, Little Man. You were (are) 10 inches long and only 11.8 ounces. You were just too small for this big old world. You were too perfect.
I can’t let you go, Carter. I’m too scared of you being alone. You’ve never been alone before. I can’t let you be alone. I love you so much Carter. I can’t talk much more right now. Today has been too emotional for me. I will write to you tomorrow after we figure out some way to celebrate your life. I love you, son.
Dear Little Man,