Ever since my first child
was born I've wanted another.
He too, always talked about having a sister or a brother.
Now the doctor says that I only had a fifty percent chance to
conceive.
Being a mother I couldn't give up, I had to believe.
It was the year two thousand three.
I smiled, looking at the pregnancy test in front of me.
Even though it was difficult, I knew I had to hold the good
news in.
Finally, three months later I told my son and he looked at
me with a
cute grin.
I took him with me to the appointments since it was just he
and I.
Unaware the day would come that made us cry.
I was six months pregnant, my son was five,
The day the doctor
told us
that we had to say goodbye.
As emotional as it was to hear such horrible news,
All I
was worried about was my little one being confused.
I sat there watching him hold his still baby brother looking
so sad and
blue.
Even though I knew that it was important for him to have
closure,
It took all that I had left inside to keep my composure.
While arranging the first funeral I would ever attend,
I dreaded
going
home to my son and trying to pretend.
My eyes quickly filled up with tears,
This was far beyond my biggest fears.
When I got home from the funeral there in front of me stood
my best
friend, my son, and he looked at me and said; "Mommy
don't cry; I am
also sad my brother died, but you still have me and heaven
can't be that
far.
We can look way up at the sky tonight because my brother
is my shining
star!"
