I knew that the day we went home without Ollie would be one of the hardest. We had 54 perfect hours with him but we had to go home. That Sunday, it all felt so final. The last time I’d hold him, the last time time I’d kiss him, the last time I’d see him on this side of heaven. Andrew read him a book, we told him how much we loved him and wished his story included more time on earth with us. I whispered to him that he had a special assignment up in heaven….once God said we were ready, Ollie needed to pick out his little brother or sister and send them down to us. We signed all of the discharge papers, arranged for the funeral home to come pick his body up, handed our sweet boy over to the nurses, loaded our stuff onto a cart and left the hospital with empty arms.

The next morning, we met my mom at the funeral home to arrange when the funeral would be, see his casket and get all of the details figured out. They brought his casket into the room so we could arrange all of the things we wanted in there just how we liked them. We lined his casket with a blue blanket we’d bought that said “mama” and “dada” on it. On top of that we laid his bunny lovey that we’d bought when we found out we were pregnant, his knit cradle & cover from the amazing Bridget’s Cradle ministry that they would place him inside of, a wedding photo of Andrew & I, letters to him from Andrew & I, and his first Bible Storybook that his Yaya had bought him.

I asked the lady at the funeral home if Ollie was there. I knew they were going to pick him up either the night before or that day. She told me he was and my heart jumped. We continued with the rest of the meeting and at the very end, I asked if I could see him again. She was hesitant, knowing his little body changed rapidly as time went on…but that didn’t matter to me. He was there and I needed to hold him again. We agreed to let my mom go see him and see if she thought I’d be okay seeing him in his current state. A few minutes later, my mom walked back in the room with a bundle of blankets containing my sweet Ollie James. Immediately the tears started flowing. When we’d left the hospital the night before, I thought I’d never get to hold him in my arms again. I unwrapped him from the blanket and held him close. I wanted to hold him forever. I would’ve just camped out at the funeral home all week if they’d let me but more things had to be done. We said goodbye to our Ollie again and continued on with the planning…. picking out flowers to go on his casket and picking his lot at the cemetery.

The hard part of that I didn’t see coming was knowing my baby was still in my town, alone, at a funeral home and I wasn’t holding him. His funeral was not until the end of the week and knowing that he was still here, not yet buried, but I wasn’t holding him was hands down the hardest part of the week. Every single time I thought about that, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I would be lying if I said I didn’t wonder in the middle of the night how hard it would be to break into a funeral home to hold him again.

His funeral was Friday morning. We kept it small and simple. A graveside service with just Andrew & I, our parents, my siblings, and Pastor Anthony and his wife in attendance. It was short and sweet and so perfect, just like Ollie’s life. The flowers on his casket were a perfect combination of whites and soft blues, with touches of rosemary from my Mom’s garden, just like my wedding bouquet had in it. We stayed as they put him in the ground and filled his grave with dirt. I’m pretty sure if they’d let me, I would’ve just gotten in the grave with him. It felt as if they were burying my heart, and in a way, they were.

I go back to his grave almost daily. In the days and weeks since losing him, I’ve felt what I can only explain as a feeling of emptiness, like something was hollowed out from deep within me. But when I go to his grave, I feel him there. I know it’s just his earthly body but it’s as though my heart knows he’s near. He sends me little signs when I’m there too…butterflies and beautiful sunsets.