Our Baby Boy

The phrase, "Our Baby Boy" is probably heard hundreds of times a day in hospitals as parents greet their sons for the first time; I understand that. To me, the phrase is so close to my heart that sometimes I feel as if it will spill over and burst.

There was a time period when I was pregnant with Deakon that I believed, as I had been told several times by doctors, that I would not be able to have or hold "our baby boy." As part of my grieving process, I began to make blankets - kind of obsessively. I wanted my son, even if he wasn't going to take a breath on this earth, to feel the warmth of a blanket that was made from the person who loved him more than words. In essence, I was preparing the blankets for his burial.

One blanket in particular, was especially hard for me because I had to crochet an edging along all the sides. I worked for hours, sitting on the couch, watching TV - trying to get the blanket done in time for whatever was coming next. My dear friend, Lisa, offered to take the blanket to be embroidered, and asked what I wanted to write on it. All I needed to say was, "Our Baby Boy" and his name, Deakon Blair Howe.

Now, two years later, that blanket has been washed and folded countless times. It has stains and fuzzballs and life. It has been used by a baby boy who talks, moves, cries, laughs, and eats. "Our Baby Boy" is now a toddler, with a whole lot of life left to go.

Happy Birthday My Baby Boy... My heart is so full of love.