Kamren Grey Smith came crashing into this life December 22, 2014. I guess I should rephrase that since he actually came into this life rather quietly. A little too quietly. After being pulled out of me via c-section, he didn’t make a sound for three minutes. Three minutes that felt like three days. All I knew was my baby was out, but my baby was not crying. I was crying. This wasn’t how it was supposed to sound. Then after what I thought would be the longest three minutes of my life, I heard the most beautiful sound in the whole entire world. I heard my son’s cry. And it was the most amazing cry in life.
When they finally held him up for me to see, after he spent a good minute peeing on everything in sight, the first thing I saw was this head full of beautiful jet black hair. I’d like to point out how important this was to me in that moment, because during my entire pregnancy I was certain I was going to be giving birth to a very bald baby. And compounding on that, he was a very big, albeit expected, baby. So my fear of bringing life to a giant potato vanished. He was perfect in every way. 10.10 lbs and 22.9 inches long. I couldn’t believe that I was carrying every ounce of this magnificent little boy within me. I grew that. I grey him. And he was mine. Mine and his Dad’s.
Fast forward 16 days later, and we’re back in the hospital.Except this time, there’s no sound coming from out beautiful little boy. You see, his Daddy found him not breathing in his bassinet, less than 10 minutes after putting him down for his nap. After CPR attempts by us, the paramedics, and resuscitation in the hospital, our little boy left this life physically. He went back home to the place where one day we all hope to end up. It’s now the place I crave to be, if only even for a moment in my dreams. Because my perfect lil Kammy bear now lives in a stupid white box, buried in a baby garden underneath the warm Florida sun.
So now here I am. A childless mother. My entire life, world, and existence turned upside down. I guess you could say I’m trying to find a way to survive. To rebuild myself. To move forward with the loss of my absolutely perfect son, since there’s no way that you just “move on.” This has now become about finding where I fit into my own life. This physical life that I still have, even on days when I want nothing to do with it. This is now my journey back to life.