For Humphrey

November came, two lines appeared,

A whispered dream, a love so clear.

Tiny kicks in thoughts we traced,

A future bright, a heart embraced.

March arrived, we held our breath,

To learn your name, to see what’s next.

A screen, a pause, then time stood still,

A silent scream, a bitter chill.

Tears start falling, ears are ringing,

A numb fog swirls, the world is spinning.

“It’s a boy.” But joy won’t stay,

They say you’re sick, and time gives way.

We walk the halls, lost in sound,

A midwife speaks, but we just drown.

A box of tissues, rough and thin,

As grief claws fiercely from within.

We leave in silence, stumble, stare,

Float to the car, lost in despair.

The weekend stretches, long and cruel,

Endless researching our hearts unravel.

“Is this my fault?” “What do we do?”

A choice that rips a soul in two.

Five days pass, we’re back once more,

Past beaming parents by the door.

Dads with car seats, joy so bright,

This should be us, this isn’t right.

Forms to read, waivers signed,

Tears that break what’s left inside.

One more scan, she turns the view,

4D flickers… there is you.

The words cut deep, they steal our air,

A life of pain, a world unfair.

The tablet swallows all hope in sight,

A nightmare that consumes the light.

Two days pass, the call arrives,

It’s time to meet you, to say goodbye.

Induced labor, life’s so unfair.

How do I breathe? Does anyone care?

Then you are here, your hand finds mine.

“He’s alive!” I gasp, in stunned surprise.

Thirty-seven minutes, you fight, you breathe,

Cuddled close, you’re perfect indeed.

Eyes shut tight, a button nose,

Tiny fingers, tiny toes.

I hold you close, so soft, so small,

And whisper, I’m so sorry, my little love.