One would think that as almost four decades have passed by I would have found a way to hide from the sneaky grief that always comes crashing especially hard into my life with all of its might at this time of year. I haven't found a way and I seriously doubt that I ever will be able to hide from it. How can I? How can any mother ever forget the season, the day, the moment she discovers her sweet innocent baby has died? It was a time of so much bargaining with God, with Jesus to perform a miracle and bring back my baby from the dead. Death stole my first son from me and from my arms. It happened April 26, 1975 early Saturday morning about 6:00 AM while I was sleeping. Did I tell you that my baby died on his grandparent's yacht? He did. James and I were sleeping in the forward cabin, the one decorated in orange. There were two berths. I was in one and James just across from me in the other. I always sleep good on the water. I love the sound of the water lapping at the sides of the vessel. She was docked at the Washington Yacht & Country Club, where she stays. "She" is the "Edna Mae" named after James' mom. We were staying on board that weekend in April to attend the wedding of my high school friend. I was sleeping so peacefully when I was awakened by my baby kicking my belly like I had never felt before. It was forceful and wild kicking. The force of it made me decide to wake James up and tell him about it. I just thought he was really anxious for more room as he was carried up high under my ribs which is very painful. He stopped kicking. I thought he was resting, so I went back to sleep. Little did I know that my son was dying and had just kicked for the last time. I was with him, awake with him and feeling him die. I will never forget that feeling. Not only did he die inside my body, but I felt it. How much closer to actually experiencing death can one get and not actually die yourself? It wasn't until two days later that I found out that my son had died when the doctor didn't get a heart beat. When I finally got up that morning, my baby wasn't under my ribs anymore, but had dropped down into the pelvic area. The first thing my MIL said when she saw me that morning was that the baby had dropped. I could tell for sure he had because my ribs didn't hurt anymore. He had a true knot in his cord. When he dropped, the cord tightened. That is when he woke me up struggling for life. I hadn't a clue as to what really happened that April morning. I thought he was in position for birth and that sooon I would actually start labor. We all thought that. With the thoughts of pending labor and the wedding I didn't notice all day that he didn't kick once. I felt movement, but it was my baby floating aimlessly around. I hadn't a clue that my life was about to change forever. Grief was circling all around me, just waiting for me to get the news. My baby had already left me. His spirit and soul left me while I felt him struggle for life here with me, but instead he went to be with his Jesus that April morn as I went back to sleep in the orange cabin.