Guest monologue: A letter to my son

A guest post by Ali. 

My son, Adam,

I miss you every moment of every day. I see a baby wrapped in a blue blanket in a car seat sound asleep. I see a little boy playing with sidewalk chalk. I see a middle school aged boy in clothes that he is quickly growing out of. I see a high school boy going to prom with his date. I see a college student having a beer, laughing with his dad. I see a grown man taking care of his mom in the hospital. Each time, I think of you.

How I wish you could have survived in our world. That you could be with your parents who were so excited to meet you. I wish your heart had formed perfectly and that it would have carried you through an entire life. I wish that heart had made a best friend. I wish that heart would have felt compassion, excitement, and awe when meeting animals. I wish that heart would have travelled all over the world and taken in all different cultures – but also have known that comfortable feeling of home. I wish that heart had fallen in love. I wish more than anything that your heart hadn’t failed you. But I promise you that our hearts never will.

I was your life support. I carried you for 22 weeks and 4 days. I felt you dance inside me. I kept your heart beating and your blood flowing. The moment you would have been born you would have only known pain. We chose to give you a life and death without pain and suffering. I would not allow those things to touch you – not even for one moment. But we will spend the rest of our lives with pain and suffering, missing our son. We chose to allow you to leave us in the most comfortable way for you. We chose to not get to hold you, kiss your face, and take pictures – for you. We didn’t get to choose life or death for you – your DNA and diagnosis stole your life. We chose to give you the most peaceful and humane death that would be possible for you. We chose to stop the life support. That was all we could do as parents who love you.

Adam, instead of living in our world you get to go from one paradise to the next. I can’t wait to see you thriving in that life. You will always be my first baby.

Adam Ray Peaslee


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1 Comment

  1. Thank you for sharing your letter to Adam, Ali. My daughter Sasha also had a congenital heart condition and passed away in May right before she was due. My heart goes out to you and your family. It is so hard missing your baby everyday.


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