Thirty years have passed, but the memories are still as vivid as if it happened yesterday. It was a little after midnight and the halls of the hospital were silent. I wanted to scream, but I bit my lip to muffle the sound because I didn’t want to wake the other patients.

“One last push” they told me. I looked at those strangers in the delivery room, guardians who encouraged me, guided me in my labor and in the quest to bring new life into this world. They were proud professionals, people I had never seen before, and probably would never see again, but they were caring and I trusted them with my life.

I pushed with every fiber of my being…then I prayed. She was holding her breath, ignoring the pain and discomfort. I was listening to every echo in the room, eagerly waiting for a screeching cry, a sound that would tell me my baby was alive and breathing on its own. Suddenly, there she was, and my heart skipped a beat. Across the room, I heard the nurse comment that the newborn was healthy, that all the body parts were intact and where they were supposed to be. They cleaned it up and a few minutes later a beautiful baby with blond hair and blue eyes was placed on my chest. I held him gently, touched his tiny soft fingers and cried.

From the moment I saw him, I promised to do everything in my power to make him the happiest boy in the world. She would take care of him the best he could and, if necessary, even work extra shifts at work so she could buy him the same luxuries and toys the other kids on the block were used to. I cooked all the meals at home, played with him and read him as many bedtime stories as he wanted. Nothing but the best for my little one!

Twenty-two years flew by in an instant and that little baby grew up to be a strong, robust and independent man. It hadn’t been easy, for either of them, because of the poverty and the divorce. I thought it didn’t matter, because we loved each other and he never gave any indication that something was bothering him terribly. Even though we no longer lived in the same town, we were always in touch. We talked on the phone, we emailed, and I bought him gifts whenever he could afford it. I thought we were doing fine.

A couple more years passed. He, who had been more interested in martial arts and didn’t go out much until then, had fallen in love. He married the girl and a year later they announced that she was pregnant. They were such a beautiful couple and I was very happy; my first grandson should soon be mine to pamper and pamper. Unfortunately, fate had other plans. The pregnancy went well until the day before the due date. My daughter-in-law had just returned home from a doctor’s visit when she insisted that something was wrong. My son rushed her to the hospital where a checkup, to our horror, revealed that the baby had died inside her. A kink in the umbilical cord had deprived my grandson of life support and when this freak of nature was discovered, the baby was no longer alive.

We were all traumatized and wondered why nature could be so cruel. Why take an innocent child, even before he had a chance to see the world? Our questions went unanswered and there was no time to stop. Preparations had to be made for Baby Brian’s funeral.

Devastated, I tried to comfort my son and his wife and tried to call them as much as I could. Then, one rainy day in March, no one picked up, at least not at first. I was worried and tried again. After my third try, my son finally responded. He listened to my brief but heartfelt proclamation about how I could feel his pain and how he wanted to be there for them. He would do what he could to help them. He listened without interrupting. There was a brief moment of silence and I could feel something was wrong. He began to speak and gave his own short statement. As if reading, and in a nutshell, he told me never to contact him or his wife again. Totally taken by surprise I asked him why. He didn’t answer, just repeated to stop calling. My mind went numb and all I could do was ask him again why he would do this to me. Still no answer! I couldn’t think and all I could think of next was to tell him that I loved him and that my door would always remain open for him and his family. He was so hopeful that this would change his mind.

It was obvious, I didn’t know my son anymore and I didn’t recognize the man I had just talked to. When he abruptly ended the call by hanging up, right after saying he’d know how to find me if he ever needed me again, I yelled at the top of my lungs, ‘I love you!’ The phone went dead and I don’t know if he heard me. All she could hope for was that he would.

Terrified that not complying with his request would drive him further away, I respected my son’s wishes and refrained from any contact. However, I asked the rest of the family if they had any idea why she had suddenly acted so strangely, and my sister even asked bluntly why I was the only one she had shut out of her life. . All she did was turn around and walk away, not saying a single word. Six years have passed and I know that in the meantime I gained two grandchildren, beautiful children who don’t even know I exist. My family feels sorry for me, because they also do not understand what possessed my son and his wife to treat me so indifferently and cruelly. They also have to live with this strange situation and, in an effort to ease my pain, from time to time they pass me a photo of my son and his family.

Not knowing which parental rule I broke is the worst part. I am trapped in a creepy darkness, a situation that I cannot fix without knowing what caused it. I can’t stop grieving, I can’t move on, and I certainly can’t let go. I really love him and I refuse to give up. In fact, this year I contacted him twice by sending him an e-greeting card; one for Christmas and one for his birthday. All I wrote as text was that he loved him and missed him and the door was still open. Even without signing my name, he must have recognized the email address, he could have easily clicked the delete button, but he didn’t. I received confirmation messages that he did open the cards and to me this means that he did read the contents and that deep down he still loves me.