But he was and is: Our son. A little brother. A grandson. A nephew. A great-grandson. And now a big brother to Sam.
He is almost three years old. He would be older than Owen was at Noah’s birth.
We got to spend 5 months of pregnancy with him, and 12 hours with him in our arms.
He was my quiet baby. A mystery. He hid behind his placenta so that we always had a hard time finding his heartbeat. He didn’t move as much.
I’ll never know what color eyes he would have had. If he would have loved stuffed animals like his little brother, or pacifiers like his big brother. Maybe he would have loved music like both of them, or preferred quiet.
There is a lot I will never know. But I know that he was here. That he matters.