The weeks following the author's son's death were marked by an unusual sense of warmth and beauty, transforming mundane objects into sacred items in her home. Despite the grief of losing her son, born on July 15, 2023, there was a surreal 'golden hour' feeling amplified by maternal hormones. During labor, alarming signs hinted at her baby's distress, but the unfolding tragedy was hard to comprehend. Frequent hospital visits leading up to the birth did not warn her of impending loss, creating a profound sense of disbelief and sorrow.
Everything was golden in the weeks after my son died. Glimmering threads of light spooled through my kitchen window and illuminated the most mundane objects, making them look sacred.
I was having an extended golden hour, pumped full of maternal love with no baby to hold. Hormones, I suspect, which I was surprised to find that you get, even if your baby dies during delivery.
I was in the middle of labour when I found out Mo had died. Perhaps I should have known when the nurse started making comments about my baby hiding while I was having contractions.
I had gone into the hospital frequently in the weeks preceding Mo's birth in the way that first mothers often do: to check on a leak, to enquire whether a lack of movement indicates something awry.
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