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  • Writer's pictureJen Chappell

Share Your Story Tuesday- Theodore “Teddy” Russell Michalski

How does one grieve a child? How can someone

who has no belief in a higher power, cope with knowing her baby is just gone? I’d like to believe my son is in heaven. I still don’t necessarily have a belief in a god. But I have to believe my son is somewhere warm and wonderful. Somewhere peaceful and comfortable. One thing I can say for sure, is that I wouldn’t wish the loss of a child, on any parent. 

My name is Elizabeth Michalski, and I’m currently 26 years old. You can call me Lisa. I was born and raised on the east side of Cleveland, in the suburbs. I have two siblings, a brother and a sister, and my parents are still happily married. 

When I was 16, I was diagnosed with PCOS (Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome). My sister was also diagnosed, although our symptoms differed. At the time, I didn’t really know what that diagnosis meant to me. They said it could affect me having children in the future (which wasn’t a concern at 16 for me), and that I had irregular periods (which having no period for months on end? Alright!). And a whole other slew of symptoms that slowly made themselves apparent as time went on (and they are very, very annoying).

Fast forward into the future, I’m 24. I married the love of my life on May 6th, 2017. He’s an intelligent, hardworking, giant goofball and I consider myself pretty lucky. Two months later, we bought a house close to our hometowns so we could be near family and friends. And shortly after, we decided we wanted to start our family. So, to the doctor I went! I saw my regular OBGYN, who with the knowledge of my PCOS (and my irregular periods) - put me on clomid, which is a fertility drug to help you ovulate. Just a small pill once a day for 5 days. Unfortunately, I wasn’t ovulating with this medicine. After 3 failed rounds, she sent us to see a Reproductive Endocrinologist, which we met with in October 2017. I had a few tests done, to ensure all my other ducks were in a row, and that it was just the ovulation we needed to tackle. Once we had a clear flag, she prescribed me Femera. This is a drug used for breast cancer patients, and luckily in my case it was supposed to help women ovulate as well. So, we tried two rounds of that. Boom. Ovulating! But we didn’t fall pregnant. 

In the midst of trying, we did receive a call from my RE. She said after reviewing my thyroid blood levels, they seemed off, and she wanted me to see a regular endocrinologist before we continued to try. A few visits later, we find I have a “toxic nodule” on my thyroid gland. We did a biopsy, came back benign, but they suggested surgery as that would put us on the fastest track to trying to conceive again. So, in March 2018, I had a partial lobectomy, the right side of my thyroid was removed. I started taking thyroid replacement medication, and all was fine. Come to find out at my post-op appointment, the biopsy was wrong, the tumor they removed was cancer. I had a 0.01% chance of having thyroid cancer from hyperthyroidism, and there it was. Crap luck. Good news was it was already removed, and they said I was at a low risk for reoccurrence due to the type (Papillary Thyroid Cancer). I was upset, but at least it was gone, and I had more important things to focus on. I kept in touch with my doctors, and they cleared us to start trying again at the very beginning of May. 

So, the night of my anniversary (of course), while my husband and I were on our romantic 1-year celebration trip, I started good ol’ Aunt Flo. I couldn’t have been any more excited for a period. We returned from our trip the next day and I called the RE’s office immediately so we could try that month. We got the medication, had our fun, then we waited. After a handful of months of trying, I wasn’t hopeful. I figured it would take us a while to get pregnant. My boobs started to hurt, and the cramps began, and I slowly waited for my period to arrive (while taking quite a few tests that showedup negative). I woke up on June 1st, 2018, a bit before 5am because I had to pee. I had one test left, and figured I’d get the disappointment out of the way so I could enjoy the weekend. I sat on the toilet waiting for the time limit to finish, so I could go back to bed and get another hour of sleep. And a very, very faint line appeared. I remember screaming my husbands name (Alex) from the toilet before I could even get up, I was in shock! I Face Timed my best friend, and then my mother, while Alex ran to Walmart to get more tests. 4 tests total, all saying positive, including a digital. My dreams of being a mommy were finally coming true. I called off work, stating I had to go to the doctor (which I did). My RE’s office took bloodwork to check my HCG levels (which they repeated a few days after). They confirmed I was indeed pregnant - about 3.5 weeks! We couldn’t be more thrilled, excited, overwhelmed with joy. We referred to our little one as “Peanut”.

Over the next few months, we informed friends, family, and when we hit 12 weeks, we made our announcement to the rest of the world (meaning our Facebook friends lol). We were over the moon. We put together baby furniture, I joined all the PCOS & pregnant support groups, we read the books and filled out the pregnancy journal. We found out we were having a little boy! His name is Theodore “Teddy” Russell Michalski. The baby shower was being planned by my bestie, my mom & mom in law, all Super Mario themed. We loved him so much and couldn’t wait for his arrival in February 2019. 

On October 2nd, I remember craving a toaster strudel (the strawberry cream cheese ones, with icing on top). I must’ve had around 3, they were so good. That night was the first time I felt our angel really kick. I couldn’t feel it from the outside, but I could for sure feel it on the inside. And the following morning, October 3rd, I had another for breakfast before work. I went and picked my best friend up as we carpool, and felt a big ol’ kick on our way in. I remember telling her he kicked me, I felt my tummy and I smiled. I work as a client account representative, for a company that helps preserve and rehabilitate foreclosed homes. I basically work reports all day, nothing fancy, but it pays the bills. I remember it was a client visit day, so we had to dress business casual. I put on my new black maternity pants, my new beautiful open shoulder shirt with a bow that accented my growing belly. I was so excited to wear that outfit. 

We get into the office about 7, and the morning is rolling on normally. Around a quarter to 10, I get up to use the rest room. Full disclosure: I was constipated. As usual. The most constipated a 5-month pregnant woman could be. Anyhow. I’m doing my business (for quite a bit), and I was pushing a bit. Few minutes pass, and I feel a pop, and hear a gush into the toilet bowl. I thought I peed more, but it didn’t feel like pee. I was completely flustered. I wiped myself, and as soon as I stood, I felt a little trickle. I couldn’t understand why I was urinating uncontrollably. So, I sat, for quite a while, panicked as what to do. I kept trying to stand and kept trickling. Eventually I wadded up some toilet paper, stuck it in my underwear and rushed out of the bathroom. I was sweating profusely. I walked straight to my best friends’ desk, hands shaking, bent down. I told her “somethings not right”. She told me to clock out for my break and that we’d go outside to call the doctor. I rushed out a few steps ahead of her, and as I’m getting towards my car, I felt a big gush. Hands shaking, tears of fear streaming down my face, I call my doctor. Thankfully someone answered right away, as I often get the machine. They tell me to come in right away. I wait by the car as my bestie (Tina, for future reference), runs into the building to grab my purse and let our managers know we’re leaving. I pull my mom’s Steelers jacket out of the back (luckily waterproof), In case I have any more gushes. And I did. The drive to my doctors was about 40 minutes, and it was agonizing. I call my mom and husband, tell them the situation, and they agree to meet us at the doctor’s office. On our way, I google my symptoms, and the results were my worst fears. 

We get into the doctor’s office, they take us in straight away. My mind is a bit frazzled here. I remember waiting for the doctor, and then I remember going into the ultrasound room. They put me in a gown as my pants were completely soaked. During the ultrasound, my doctor was in the room with the technician. I could see our baby boy, but it wasn’t as clear as the picture just a week prior at my anatomy scan. They confirmed my fears then and there. My water had broken. At 21 weeks pregnant. I was in complete shock. What happens from here? Is he going to be okay? I had a million questions that I couldn’t even begin to ask. My doctor tells us she’s sending me to University Hospitals MacDonald Women’s Hospital in Cleveland. They were the best of the best. I remember asking her right before we left, what chance do I have of keeping this baby. She told me I was going to need some luck. Tina and I drove together to the hospital, while my mom and Alex met us there. We got checked in, and I met so many faces within the first hour. Doctors doing scans, finding Teddy’s heartbeat, and getting more explanations of what was going on. The first round of high-risk doctors - did not have good news. Since my water had broken so early, it was more than likely that I was going to develop a fever overnight. In such case, I would have to “terminate” my baby, or I’d be putting my own life at risk. And when a baby is under 22 weeks, they won’t provide any medical assistance, because they are just too young to survive. It would do more harm than good. There are some cases - which I read on that whole night - that a baby does survive at 21 weeks. But since it’s such a low survival rate, and the mother usually gets sick before delivery (or baby passes), it’s rare for any hospitals to go beyond that policy. So, I just had to wait and see what my body was going to do. 

I cried, harder than I’ve ever cried in my life. I was so afraid my son was going to lose his life before he was given the chance to live it. My family and I all cried together. It was heartbreaking. But I’m happy I wasn’t alone. Hours passed and I hadn’t developed said fever. A nurse came in with paperwork, stating the state of Ohio needed a signature stating I was legally terminating my pregnancy if I caught that fever. I signed it. Because as selfish as I wanted to be, and didn’t want to give up any ounce of hope, my husband needed me. We needed each other. And I couldn’t risk breaking my family’s heart, by putting my own life at risk. I remember asking the nurses every single time they came in what my temperature was. They didn’t want to upset me but knew I just wanted to be clued in. And come morning, the little piece of paper I had signed was out the door. I never caught fever! My doctors were very surprised! And I felt hopeful for the first time since I left work the morning prior. So, a few more discussions later, and I got bumped to the 4th floor (for the pregnant mommies!). After a very long and annoying ultrasound, we moved to our new room and my in-laws were there to greet us shortly after. My siblings had come to visit too! We watched tv, chatted, and I even felt Teddy kick once! That was the first time since I was on my way to work the prior day. 

I had been waiting all day to see the doctor on their rounds (who had hit my new floor earlier that morning), and I didn’t know what was happening next, so I was a bit (and by a bit I mean very) angry. My day nurse had zero communication skills. And unfortunately, I took it out on the night nurse. I don’t think my parents have ever, ever seen me so angry. And they just let me rip. I was crying, panicky, and around 2am they finally got a doctor to come in and talk to me. I was thankful for the night nurses, they calmed me down and sat there letting me air my grievances until I was settled and content. The doctor stated at that point, there was basically no amniotic fluid left. My baby was producing more, and although my cervix was closed, the production wasn’t enough to help him continue to grow how he should. So, they said we were to “watch and wait”. The goal was to keep me pregnant as long as possible, and when the baby was past 22 weeks, they could medically intervene (which we had an agreement - if it was for sure going to help, they were to help, but if he wasn’t going to survive the interventions, I could tell them to stop, so I could have whatever time I’d get with him). The next day, I again, was feeling hopeful. No fever, no signs of labor, my baby was still safely in my tummy. I saw the doctors who still seemed hopeful, and I spent the rest of the day with my in-laws, my family, and my husband. We celebrated my mother in laws birthday in my hospital room, cake and all. My friend Steph came to visit as well.

During her visit, when I got up to use the restroom, I noticed blood on the pad I was wearing. I yelled out to Alex to call the nurse. After she got me back into bed, she searched for the heartbeat as we waiting for the doctor. My heart was pounding, and then we heard his big ol’ beating heart, loud and clear. I was relieved, but I knew we weren’t out of the woods. The doctor arrived and completed an exam, and said that bleeding was an early sign of labor. But we were still just “watching and waiting”. So, we did. We tried to get some sleep, and my mom came up early the next morning to visit. Just before 6 am, I went to use the restroom, and as I was wiping, I felt something weird. I used my hand to feel and I felt something rubbery and bumpy. I yelled for my mom, who jumped into panic mode. She said it was my cord - my umbilical cord. She was in such a fury, she ripped the “please pull for assistance” cord completely off the wall, and she ran to the nurses’ station. Suddenly the room was filled with nurses. They had me walk carefully to a bed they had rolled in, as I got in a nurse got on top of me and was holding her fingers inside me, desperately trying to push my cord back in and keep it in. A male resident yelled out “we’re going to an emergency c-section” and my heart dropped. That was never the plan (though none of this was). The doctors had said doing a c-section was really risky for my body at this point of pregnant. I yelled for my husband to call Tina, and then we were rolling, nurse still on top of me and all. They took us back down to the second floor, labor and delivery. 

Once we entered our room, it was once again filled with doctors and nurses. My doctor calmed me when he stated I was not having a c-section, but he did say we were in labor and that my cord was coming out. They wanted to give me the steroids to help the baby develop better, although our odds were pretty slim at this point. Everything feels like such a blur, everyone was moving so fast and here I was laying in this bed, hoping my son was still okay. They came to check his heartbeat, and he was still good. My cervix was opening. Soon after the doctors left, they gave me an epidural (which was not as bad as it sounds, honestly). My nurse was a saint, she kept me smiling. Once the epidural was in, it was just time to wait. The doctors said they would come in to check on the baby every few hours, but they reminded me that realistically our odds were not great, so they wouldn’t keep a constant monitor going. Family visited, everyone took turns coming in and out of the room. My aunt from PA had come down, and I was happy to have so much family around. Nurses came in a few times, heartbeat was still going strong. So, the mood was light for a while. My sister in law painted my nails and toenails during the downtime, and we all just chatted like it was a normal day. 

A little after 2:30 that afternoon, the nurses came by to listen for Teddy’s heartbeat again. The room fell eerily silent as we waited, as the nurse was having trouble (which it took a bit for them to find it earlier, so I wasn’t immediately worried). Then the doctor came in. They weren’t finding anything with the ultrasound machine, so she wanted to do an exam. A few minutes of silence and she was done. She looked at me, and said “I’m sorry, but the baby has passed away”. My worst fears had come true. My first child, my baby, my future, was gone. The tears began to fall. My family filled the room, each of them coming up to me, holding my hand, hugging me. I remember lying on my back, looking up at my husband, my mom, my best friend, and everyone else to follow with tears in my eyes. We just cried. My mother in law would tell my husband later that the sound of my cries would haunt her forever.

Everyone took turns getting a break from the room, and later on they left my husband and I alone for some time together. During that time, doctors came to check in, see how labor was moving along, and we signed paperwork for the death certificate. We also had decided we wanted to proceed with the hospital disposition. We didn’t think we could handle burying our son ourselves, as if you chose the alternate route, you have to call the morgue, funeral home, and mentally I didn’t think that was something I could do. The hospital disposition allowed them to complete the cremation, and a service is held in June for all the babies who had passed away the prior year. We knew we were making the best decision for us, even though who really knows what the best decision is. Who wants to make that decision only hours after hearing that your baby had passed away? Anyways, once the papers were signed, we told our family to come back in, happy faces needed. Before they came up, every single one of them sent me a text filled with happy faces and hearts. Everyone made their way back in and we tried to keep the mood light. We played cards, we chatted, knowing the rest of the night wasn’t going to be happy. 

The doctors placed medication inside me to help labor along, twice, and soon enough the contractions started. Slowly at first, they felt like uncomfortable cramps. We kept an eye on the clock, trying to see how far apart they were. As they grew closer and closer, the doctor came in to check on us. They said since he was small, there was a chance he could come out without my knowing due to the epidural. She started to prepare to check my cervix, but she could feel Teddy’s feet as soon as she started the exam. I was asked to push a little, and she said it was time. We chased the dads out of the room, and I requested my mom, Tina and of course, Alex, to be in the room for our son’s delivery. Once they all swapped, she told me to give one big push. And he was out. I didn’t see him right away, the nurses wanted to clean him off the best they could given the circumstances. While they completed that, I delivered my placenta right after with another big push. Thankfully, my entire placenta came out and I was able to avoid surgery. 

A few moments later, I was handed my son. Born at 11:58 PM on October 6th, 2018. 11 inches long, 15 ounces. He was beautiful. He was exactly 22 weeks old, and I honestly had no idea what to expect. He had a wide nose, just like mine. Tiny little lips, really big feet, like his daddy’s. The most beautiful fingertips and nails, toes. Everything about him was perfect. I sat in awe. Tears rolled down my face, I had never been so in love and so devastated at the same time. My little boy, who just days before was making his first kicks, was lifeless in my arms. Our family took turns holding him, admiring his features, telling him how much they loved him. We tried to get some photos, so we could capture these moments of family holding our tiny handsome boy. Every single person in that room was heartbroken. Grandmothers and grandfathers losing their first-born grandchild. Aunts losing their nephew. My husband and I losing our son. The nurses came in to take him for some photos, as the beautiful hospital we were in creates a care package for momma’s who experience a loss. During that time, the room was silent. All 9 of us, sitting around the room, not a word was spoken. I didn’t look up much but a peek, as I didn’t want to see the look on anyone’s face at that time. We were all in disbelief. I’m not quite sure how much time passed before the nurses came back, but it felt like an eternity. 

Once he was back in our arms, our family slowly took off. They had all been in and out of the hospital with us over the last few days, and they all needed a break. Alex and I also needed some time alone with our son. We cuddled him, took some more photos, and I tried to sing to him - “My Love, My Life”, the Mamma Mia 2 version. I sang that song to him in my belly while I was pregnant. This is now Teddy’s song. The nurses I had when I was rushed to labor & delivery came back on shift, and took care of us the rest of the night until we went upstairs to rest. They talked with us, cleaned me, comforted us, and asked us all about Teddy. Those two nurses were so amazing, and I was sure to let my doctor know about them later. Around 4am, we were sent back up to the 4th floor with Teddy in my arms, in a new room so I wasn’t in mixed company with the women who were still pregnant on that floor. We asked the nurse if she could take Teddy to their “nursery” room of sorts, as we both desperately needed sleep. Alex rolled me outside, the air was crisp and it was a little chilly. I attempted to smoke a cigarette but I took a few hits and I was over it. It felt nice just to be outside at that point. We made our way back to our room, and laid down for some rest. Alex fell asleep pretty quickly, I may have slept an hour overall before I text my mom at 7am to see if she was awake. I needed to get out of the room and didn’t want to wake Alex with my tears. 

My mom and aunt shortly arrived and took me down for some breakfast and fresh air. I wasn’t very hungry but I hadn’t eaten in well over 24 hours, so I tried to get down something. With Alex’s agreement, we shared the news of our loss online, as I wanted to get it out there. I didn’t want to spend the next few weeks explaining to everyone what happened while I was mourning the loss of our son. I wanted my privacy, and knew that was the fastest way to get the information out in one lump sum. The love and kind words we received was overwhelming. We said our goodbye’s to Alex’s parents at the hospital. Then we went back to our room to pack, and to have our last goodbyes with our son. It was like living it all over again. He was still just as handsome, but his skin was changing color, and his tiny body was cold. My heart sunk deeper and deeper. How could this be happening? Why are we leaving the hospital without our child? What did we do to deserve this? We held him close, and told him how much we loved him. I would’ve given ANYTHING to see our little boy make it, but we had no odds in our favor to any degree.

After our tearful goodbyes, my mom picked us up and brought us home. She agreed to keep our dogs for a few days, to give us some extra time to relax. I was extremely thankful as I was so sore from sitting in labor for 20 hours. My entire backside throbbed and it hurt to sit. We placed Teddy’s items in a memory box my mom had gotten for us. My parents and aunt also went through the entire house before we came home, to place any painful reminders out of site until we were ready to manage them. This included blocking off the nursery which is the small side room of our upstairs (where our bedroom was located), with no door. So, a curtain rod, black sheets and wooden gates made the room bearable. I took a very, very long hot shower, letting the water run down my back side in hopes to ease some of the pain from sitting so long. We eventually hauled off for a very early bedtime, and the only thing I was happy about was laying in my own bed, with my wonderful husband.

The next few weeks went fast and were hard. I took off about 3 weeks from work. Friends and a few family members visited during that time, just to come sit, listen, comfort and cry with me. Every single day I remember that I have an amazing support system. Alex and I went out to my favorite tattoo shop out in Akron, where we received the perfect tattoos for our beautiful boy, which included his tiny hand and footprints that the hospital was able to get for us. We held a balloon release memorial for Teddy, SO many people showed up that we ran out of balloons! Again, that amazing support system. We are still filled with so much love for how many people came to send their wishes and prayers to Teddy via balloon. Alex and I found a beautiful ring with Teddy’s birthstone for me to wear, and I had a keychain engraved to say “Daddy of an Angel” with Teddy’s name and birthdate for Alex to keep with him. We also took time to build a memorial section on our wall, and we light our candle (almost) every single night for baby boy.

Alex went back to work after a week, and I started back working from home after those 3 weeks. And 3 weeks after that I decided it was time to start going back into the office (keeping my normal 2 work from home days). It was scary and anxiety filled, but luckily working with my best friend helped keep me sane. Getting back to my mornings with her felt good, a little sense of normalcy. My boss gave me a “welcome back”, ignoring the fact that anything had happened. I still am a little bitter, as I texted him the day after our loss to explain what happened and that I’d be out for a while. I never received a response, and he basically treated me like I had taken a vacation upon my return. After two years of busting my butt for this man, a simple “I’m sorry for your loss” would have sufficed. Can’t make someone have compassion though.

Alex and I attended a support group that our hospital had created, called HEAL (Helping Each Other After Loss), that is specific to pregnancy and infant loss (which is hard to find). Although it was sad to see other parents grieving the loss of their children, it was nice to be in a room where we weren’t alone. Losing your child who never got the chance to live, is a much different experience than losing a child who lived for many years. No loss is greater than another, but they are different, and finding people who can connect with you on that level is again, sad, but comforting. Someone truly understands what you are going through. We both have also attended one on one therapy, with separate counselors. He saw a counselor specific to grief, while I saw a counselor specific to pregnancy loss.

So, as I sit here, we are almost 4 months to the date of our loss. The date our world changed forever. And we are two weeks out from our original due date (Feb 9th, 2019). I had a completion thyroid surgery before the end of 2018, a new small spot of cancer was found, and hopefully that’s the last of it. Wanted to get all of the bad out in 2018. Tina said to me, that maybe Teddy knew I wasn’t completely fine, and that he wanted me to be healthy so he left us for those reasons. Her words stick with me, make me cry, as out of something so terrible, it’s a beautiful way to look at it. I’ve learned, A LOT, about myself, my body, pregnancy and grief. Grief is NOT a one-way street. I have really good days, and then I will crumble into pieces over some simple reminder that I should still currently be pregnant, and that my baby should still be arriving shortly. My husband has been very open regarding his grief, which has ensured we grow together during this time, and not apart, as many couples do. We are working on getting ourselves back into shape, while we have long, emotional discussions about when we want to attempt try again. One thing we’ve completely agreed upon, is that we DO want to try again eventually. I need to give my son a sibling. I will teach said sibling all about their brother who is in heaven. I want to give my husband a child we can watch grow, and although he is already a father, I know he wants to parent a child here on Earth.

Everything that has happened over the last year has made me realize life is short. In the span of 9 months, I beat cancer I didn’t know existed, with two surgeries, I became pregnant with my first child, and I lost him with no reason at all. 9 months, the normal amount of time for a pregnancy. That’s how much time it took for my life to change in a million different ways. I’ve been in touch with many women who are experiencing the same tragedy as we have, I’ve lost contact with a few friends after our loss, and some friendships have grown even stronger. I have leaned on my best friend more times than I can count, my angel knows his Titi plays one of the biggest roles in our lives, and she loves him so much. My family and I have grown closer, both with my side and my husbands. It is the tragedies that bring families closer, its unfortunate timing but at the end of the day I’m relieved to know we are all bonded more closely in our grief. I know the milestones are going to be heart wrenching – mother’s/father’s day, due date, and Teddy’s birthday. But I know our family and close friends will be right by our side, giving us the love and support we need, every step of the way.

I said it before, and I’ll say it again. Grief is not a one way street. I’ve learned the hard way that some days will be better than others. Some days I want to crawl back into bed, cry myself to sleep, hugging the teddy bear that we laid our son with, before we let him go. Some days I want to get up, get moving, stay busy, fill my time with laughter and loved ones. I know some may not want to bring up what happened, but I honestly want to talk about him. Teddy was alive, inside me, growing and listening to my heartbeat, for 22 weeks. I felt his little kicks, felt his tiny movements which felt like flutters. I planned to spend my life loving him, playing/watching sports with his dad, singing with me, and doing whatever his little heart desired. He was so very much a part of me, and always will be. He may be gone, but he was still born (funny how “stillborn” is such a lovely play on words). My son was stillborn, but STILL born. I brought him into this world, even though he was already gone. He was welcomed into the loving arms of his parents, grandparents, and aunts. I want to talk about my son. I’m already sad, I’m going to be sad for the rest of my life. But talking about my son reminds me that he existed. He wasn’t just a fleeting thought or a dream. He was real, and he is the love of my life.

To my beautiful son:

​I will quote my favorite saying, “I carried you for every second of your life, and I will love you for every second of mine”. I promise to always talk about you. When I’m asked if I have any children, I will tell them about you. Your memory and spirit keep me going. You remind me that I have one life, it is short, and I will try my best to live it like there’s no tomorrow. Life can change in an instant. I don’t know if there truly is a heaven, but I hope you are warm, happy, and care-free. I hope your angel family members are giving you so much love and teaching you about life. I hope you look fondly upon your father and I. I hope we are making you proud. I hope when we give you a sibling, our rainbow baby, you will send all your kisses down from heaven to make sure your baby sister or brother has all of your love. I hope you know how much we wanted you, and still do. I hope you hear me when I sing your song, and that you know our tears mean that we miss you, and love you. I knew love before you, but I didn’t know how MUCH I could love until the day I found out you were growing inside of me. My heart may be broken, but it is still full of love for you. You will always be my first-born, the love of my life, my reason to keep going, and the first life to make me a Mommy. Thank you for making me Mommy here on Earth. Daddy and I will never, ever stop loving you. You are our beautiful angel, and we will miss you every day. Thank you for being our son.

Theodore “Teddy” Russell Michalski, 10.06.2018 - 11:58 PM

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