Because someone made the comment that I don't talk about it, I'm going to point out a certain event that happened in my life on June 22, 2011. I delivered a premature baby boy, just shy of four months along.
No, I don't like to talk to about. Yes, it breaks my heart. I was told multiple times before that I cannot have children, and have experienced 3 previous miscarriages before.
Because I was entering my second trimester, I was forced to deliver this baby instead of merely having a DNC. Because of this, I'm suffering from a lot of depression, and I've been doing crazy things in the attempt to distract myself from it.
However, this post was not meant to be about me. I could care less how I am coping with it. I would just like to let the world know about my son, James Danty Evan Pate. He would have been almost here.
I'm not a big believer in prayer. In fact, I don't care for the concept of God in the least. But tonight, I miss my pregnant belly, and the hope that I would get to see his little fingers and his little toes, kiss his soft little cheek. I thought he'd have my eyes, and my smile.
Somewhere, there's an angel that should have been mine. I love you, my little Danty. No matter where you are.