In April of 1997 we learned that we were finally pregnant. After five years of marriage and two of trying to conceive, we had finally succeeded - with a little help from modern pharmaceuticals and God up above, our prayers were answered.

My pregnancy progressed like any other. When I was 17 weeks along, we discovered that God had blessed us with not only one son, but two. We were so excited that every member of our family and each one of our friends knew by the end of that night. We all looked forward to the joy God was about to bring.

The little kicks grew stronger and stronger - lulling me to sleep at night and greeting me each morning and occasionally saying "Hey Mom" throughout the day. As each of our sons grew, the more anxious we became for them to arrive, to hold them in our arms, tell them how much they were loved, and introduce them to the world.

In October my doctor put me on bedrest fearful that I would deliver too soon. I became a regular at his office. Our progress was watched like a hawk, or so I thought.

On December 5, 1997 at 2:30 a.m., 35 weeks along, my water broke. They were finally on their way. Our sons were ready to join us. We were at the hospital in 20 minutes ready to great our tiny newcomers. I had made the calls to my parents and my mother-in-law by cell phone on the way to the hospital to let them know their grandsons were about to arrive.

My delivery nurses found Michael's heartbeat right away; however, they could not locate Jacob's. I delivered our sons by emergency c-section at 5:21 a.m. and 5:22 a.m. Jacob was our firstborn. Michael was taken immediately to NICU.

I vaguely remember the events or sequence in which they occurred after Jacob's heartbeat could not be found. I was too shocked and drugged up to remember much of anything. My husband swears that I held our Angel - that memory escapes me and haunts me to this day. Little by little the memories are coming back - but for the life of me - I can't remember holding our firstborn. Maybe it's tucked away deep inside until I'm fully ready to deal with it. I don't know. I do remember meeting Jacob in the recovery room. He looked so peaceful, so far away. Later that day we had our priest baptize Jacob while my husband held him.

Michael was in the hospital for 10 days only because he had to learn to take the bottle. He has no health problems and so far, no developmental problems. He is progressing like any other baby.

The only explanation we have been able to get is that "these things happen," "you are lucky to still have Michael." One who has not experienced this loss can only imagine how terrible it is to not know what happened to your baby, worse yet, the pain of having to bury a child.

Each night when the house is still and quiet, I watch Michael sleeping, longing for Jacob and silently apologizing to Michael that his brother cannot be with him. I will always wonder if there was something I could have done to keep Jacob here with us. I'll never really know. I wonder too, how will we explain the absence of Jacob to Michael? What would ours sons have been like growing up together? How would Jacob have done in school? How would his life have turned out?

We buried Jacob in the country, far away from the hustle and bustle, in a quite place. We visit the cemetary as often as we can. Every time we go it brings back all the painful emotions we felt in the days after they were born. The pain is getting a little easier day by day. We know there will always be a hole in our hearts; our son is missing from our lives. It has helped us a great deal to put our thoughts and sorrow into this memorial for Jacob - even more so are the friends that we have made along the way who have also experienced a loss such as ours.

We know our Angel is playing in the Heavenly Playground with all the other little ones that God has called home. We know they are all watching over us each and every day and walking only a step behind us.

Tabitha Kirke

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