He was seven months old.
She was the first of my childhood friends to have a baby.
She had gotten married in January and he was born in April. Though she loved him dearly, she wondered what people in our closed, Conservative circle would say.
But I loved her for it. Because everyone who has walked the hard paths of life in a broken Creation know sorrow.
I knew it. And I knew that she knew it.
She was the first of my friends to get married, and to have a baby.
And she's the first of my friends to lose a baby.
Ten days before Christmas.
So my best friend, who is also friends with her sister, and I stopped at Target to get a few things for them. In the end, we picked out a cream woven basket, a blanket with the words, "I love you" printed across it and teal microfiber on the other side, a stuffed fox (reminiscent of his favorite toy), an elephant lovey, teal-and-grey fuzzy socks for Mama and Daddy, chocolate, a notebook, and a candle.
I'm thinking now about his first birthday in April, and Mother's Day in May . . . and the first anniversary of the loss, a year from now.
I'm at a loss for words.