Leo Mark Heilman

That would have been his name. That was his name, the baby I lost at 11 weeks old. The baby that was only the size of his own baby bootie when I held him in my hands. A dear friend told me about Baby Loss Awareness Week which I think ended yesterday. I usually am behind when it comes to these things. I’m glad people are talking about it. I’ve run out of things to say but I still cry every time I think of Leo, every time I think of miscarriage and baby loss and even sometimes when I see a baby or a grown up boy. My husband and I hardly ever talk about it and it is always one sided…he just doesn’t have anything to say, the emotions are still too strong.
These are the tangible things I have to remind me of Leo…his baby booties that a kind friend gave to me, a necklace that Riona made for him, my ultrasound images and a letter to him. I can’t open that box still without crying.


I had a dream about him a few months ago. It was very realistic and very simple. He was sitting up but was wobbly still and balanced against the back of the chair. He was pudgy with wisps of blond hair and happy blue eyes. I was playing with him, pretending to feed him bits of my arm with the the spoon. He was just watching me with happy observant blue eyes and a big dreamy smile on his face.
I realize now that he was just enjoying seeing me…memorizing the lines and look of my face since we can’t be together. 

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