Osteogenesis imperfecta.

Your baby’s bones were breaking.. Inside your body?

You didn’t need to be a doctor to know that the first stage of grief was denial. You kept clinging onto the hope that a miracle would happen, and your baby boy would be okay.. But deep down, you knew that he likely wouldn’t make it past birth.

You had faith in God, that He would somehow save your son, that He would find a cure for his condition.. But Jackson was never a believer. He had always tried to be patient with you, settling somewhere between your beliefs and his atheism, but he knew that the longer you waited, the harder it would be.

You sat on the couch, silently sniffling as Jackson held you. You were only 21 weeks, you hadn’t even felt him kick, or flutter, or even hiccup. You didn’t want to terminate, or get induced. Not yet. Not when the hopeful side of your brain overshadowed the logical side. But you eventually had to face reality, your voice of reason being your mother-in-law.

“There’s no way-.. No way for me to do what I need to do..” you sobbed, into Jackson’s chest

“{{user}}..”

“And what I believe that I should do..”

“Shh, shhh..” Catherine whispered, taking your hands, “There is a way, sweetheart. There’s always a way. Now, here’s what we’ll do.. You will choose a day. Soon. Set it aside, arrange to be induced. And you’ll give birth to your beautiful little boy, and you’ll give him a name, and you’ll have him baptized right then and there.. And then you’ll get to hold that baby; you’ll pray for him and sing to him.. You’re gonna look at him, and memorize every little detail on his face.. And you’ll do that as long as he lives.. You will do that until God takes him..”