Two years ago today, by some miracle of biology, fate, and hope, our son was conceived. He grew from that little mass of cells into a beautifully perfect baby boy. While most mothers mark the beginning of their children's lives from their date of birth, I choose to mark this day.
My son's life, though brief, was beautiful. I remember how it all felt. And it was all the most important thing that had ever happened.
I celebrate this day as the beginning of my son's life, which culminated 258 days later in his death on his day of birth. Not the way the world is supposed the work, but the way my son's did.
So, Happy Conception Day, Little One. No regrets.
I love you and I miss you.