One Fish, Two Fish... New Fish. The nursery was set, his diaper bag packed, his shower only a few days away, with many gifts having already arrived. Roman Matthew Pitre, my second son, my husband's first and only son would soon make his way into our arms, home and already took our hearts.
On May 27, 2014, my husband and I took off work for the first part of the morning to go for our final ultrasound before Roman would join Cameron, Brooklyn, myself and Brandon, completing our family to a family of five. As the ultrasound tech placed the wand onto my stomach, she quickly picked it up, fiddled with the wand, placed it back two more times, before telling us the machine was broken she had to get another one. What seemed like hours was only minutes before my doctor returned, the wand was back on and the words that will forever haunt me echoed so loud, "I am so sorry, there is no more heartbeat!" Anger, tears, screams, emptiness, it all consumed me in those moments. Brandon begged them, please just try again, he is just sleeping. Our sweet precious Roman was in fact sleeping an eternal sleep. We left with no words other than please meet me at the hospital.
At 11:30 am, we walked into Women's and Children's hospital broken, desperate for a miracle only to deliver Roman at 8:47 pm that same night silent. There were no blue cigars, balloons, flowers or bears adoring the room, but a single leaf hung on the outside, warning all that entered, there was no child coming home with us. I wanted to run away, wake up from this nightmare, this was not real! We soon left the hospital with packets of funeral home information, cremation information, a beautiful memory box that would hold the only few items we would ever have with our son. There was no congratulations, no he is so precious, can't wait to hold him... There were calls and texts of I am so sorry, food trays dropped off at the house, and a silent empty nursery.
In the weeks following, I found myself unable to sleep or barely eat, simply sitting in the quiet of my downstairs kitchen table, doodling, praying, crying out for answers at 3AM. It was then it hit me- 2 Colossians 2:5, "For though I am absent in body, I am with you in spirit, the anchor holding you to Christ!" I knew more than anything I had to honor him, keep his memory his spirit alive. He was my HOPE my anchor. In the weeks to follow, my husband and I launched Roman's Wings of Hope and brought the vision of the Cuddle Cot to Louisiana.
Though Roman was only with me a moment, his memory will give for a lifetime. He will always be my personal angel, guiding me on this journey, shattering the silence on pregnancy and infant loss and telling the world our children matter, they do exist. It is because of our children like Maddie and Roman that we can bring HOPE to those who need HOPE most.
