Dear Son, I would like to start by saying I love you very much and miss you just as much! There isn’t a moment that goes by that I don’t think about you and all the things we could have done together. I’m surprised that I’ve been able to hold myself together as well as I have. There are times I break down and lose it, but your mother is there for me to regain my strength and composure. I tell her that I’m her Atlas and I’ll hold her up, but even Atlas gets tired and needs a break. Your mother has been fantastic to me and I appreciate her so much, too. You meant a lot to me and your mother. The days leading up to your birth were very stressful and worrisome for us both. After we reached a certain point after the 1st trimester we started to relax because we thought it was just smooth sailing from that point. Don’t get me wrong, we were still walking on egg shells, but it seemed that things were looking up. Well, on November 8, 2007, we had an appointment for the level 2 ultrasound and we thought everything was going to be normal. When your mom’s friend put the ultrasound wand on her stomach, we saw on her face that something was wrong. She finished the scan and said that you were fine. There was something wrong with mom’s cervix! They then admitted your mom into the hospital and there I stayed with her by her side. Throughout the days leading up to your birth, I went home about 3 times, just to get supplies. (and cry) I cried and prayed each time and along the way home and back to the hospital, that you’d be alright and that everything would be ok. Unfortunately, my prayers weren’t answered. The Doctors told your mother and I that mommy had an infection and that she would die if they didn’t deliver you right away. So, late Sunday night/ early Monday morning, they induced labor. At this point in time, your mommy and I haven’t had much sleep. I was sleeping in a chair next to mommy’s bed. At about 10:30am your mommy yelled for me to wake-up and see what happening. She said she felt something. I looked and saw the top of your head coming out! I quickly stepped out and summoned for some help and came back into the room and went to your mother’s side and saw you born! I saw you come out of your mother and I started to cry. I was crying because I was happy and sad. Happy, because I saw that, in appearance, you were fine with no obvious birth defects and that it’s possible for your mommy and me to have children. Sad, because now I have to say good bye. Unfortunately, your lungs weren’t developed enough for them to do anything. We knew that you were going to die. We knew before you were born that that was going to happen. It absolutely broke our hearts. It made me feel helpless. I was angry that I couldn’t do anything. I feel like I let you down, son. I still feel that way today, and I’ll always feel that way. I’m learning how to cope with it, but I know it will never go away! Please understand though, I didn’t know what else to do. Please forgive me, son. I love you so much. Later, on Friday of that same week, your mother and I went to the funeral home to make the arrangements for the cremation. I chose a piece of jewelry that holds some of your remains and then I had it engraved with your name and birth date and time. I will always wear it when I can. Some of the things I had hoped we’d be able to do together was do a lot of fishing. I know that you would have enjoyed that. After all, you’re my son. I also would have introduced you to hunting and camping. I know you would have enjoyed the outdoors. My father used to take me on fishing trips; we would have done the same. Montana, Colorado, Wyoming, just to name a few. I also would have loved to have taken you to some hockey and football games. Just you and me. Son, I would have taken you anywhere you’d want to go! I also would have introduced you to all types of sports. Your mother and I would talk about it, and I would say, “My son isn’t going to play some wimpy sport like soccer!” Now, looking back, if it would bring you back, you could play anything you want. I miss you so much. Son, I miss you so much it hurts. I still can’t believe that you are gone. I dream about you every night I go to bed. I daydream about you, too. I plan on planting a tree in the backyard in remembrance of you. I also plan on having a tree planted in your name in one of the Allentown parks. I also would like to do an honor ride for you and all the other babies and children that have died needlessly. I also want to set up a foundation in your name to help people like your mother and I who needed assistance with everyday things. I love you son and you’ll always be remembered. Love, Dad “I am a father, but not the way it’s supposed to be!” – Chris Williamson