Today I heard Rylyn’s name. It’s the first time I have ever heard his name..
I was walking in Wal Mart with my boyfriend and two daughters, it’s been awhile since I have thought about Rylyn but all of a sudden there it was, plain as day. A mother calling out to her child, “Rylyn!”. It stopped me dead in my tracts and I stared off for a second, but with 2 cranky kids it’s hard to get lost in thought for too long. My mind has been wandering ever since. My little baby… The baby I never got to hold, the baby I didn’t want, the baby that was conceived by a horrendous act.. the baby that I so desperately would give anything to have back..
Many would say that Rylyn was not actually a baby because I was *only* 12/13 weeks pregnant, many would say that because at the time I didn’t want him that I didn’t deserve him but I loved him… It doesn’t matter that I was raped, it doesn’t matter that my family accused me of killing him… It doesn’t matter that I didn’t know how much I loved him until he was gone… I love him. Do I think about him every day? No… And it breaks my heart to realize that I don’t. It breaks my heart that this precious babies memory is surrounded by suffering and pain. I don’t even know if he was a boy… But somehow I always pictured him as a boy… He would have been almost 5… My beautiful baby, I don’t know what life would have been like if you had lived but I do know that I would have loved you with my entire being and you would know nothing but love.
I love you Rylyn…