Michel, 
It has been one year since your big brother Daniel joined you in heaven. I know you welcomed him and you were united as Daniel had always wanted to be your big brother. Please take care of him and know we all miss you both terribly. I know that you are in the Lord's loving embrace and dancing with Grandma and Grandpa Kalina.  Love you both, my boys. Til we meet again.....

We were so excited to learn we were having a son. The pregnancy didn't go that well at the start as I was so nauseated. You caused me much discomfort but much joy feeling you moving about inside of me. Then came the quietness. I didn't know what to make of it so I went to the doctor. He assured me that things were OK as we both listened to your heartbeat. But the movements became non existent by the next day. Still, I didn't sense the worst possible news. As a cardiac nurse, I knew that the monitors could be touchy and I just thought they weren't placed correctly. Then that horrible doctor came in to do the ultrasound. He pointed out your head, your spine, your heart which should be beating but wasn't because you were dead. He shut off the machine and left the room with no other words. Not even his condolences. I remember sobbing uncontrollably and feeling like I had failed you. How could I have not know something was very wrong? I am a nurse, after all!. Your Dad was devastated, just as I. All our hopes and dreams were taken away in an instant. I needed to go home and tell your brothers and sisters as they needed to know. It wasn't going to be easy and I really didn't know how I was going to tell them. They were so excited to be welcoming you in just 2 days. They even had part in picking your name, Michel.
The next day was surreal. I went to the hospital with the smallest amount of hope and the dream that once you were delivered, you would be OK. It was a mechanical error and you were not dead. The fact that I had to argue with the physician to deliver you by C-section didn't help the whole situation. I remember going into the delivery room and the doctor saying ";at least we know why he died" but then it all goes blank. I guess my hope that you were still alive was not to be. They must have given me something to put me out. When I awoke in the recovery area, the nurse asked if we wanted to see you. I told her I did but didn't know about your Dad. He initially said he couldn't bear to see you, but somehow I convinced him that we needed to say goodbye. My mother in law was there and helped to dress you and then the nurse brought you to us. I couldn't believe you were not just sleeping. You looked so peaceful, at least I know you weren't suffering. But I just wanted you to wake up. You were perfect in every way. Curly black hair and lots of it. Long fingers. No other visible signs of imperfection. I couldn't understand why you died. I held you as long as I possibly could, which will never be enough. I miss that but cherish that I got to do it at all. I only wish we had the courage to bring your brothers and sister to see you and say goodbye. They never got the chance. I knew they wouldn't be scared because you were beautiful in every way. If only the nurses had insisted or told us that we could still have them come to see you. I know that is a regret I will live with all my life.
We baptised you and named you in the name of the lord and then we sent you to be with him.
Your funeral was very quaint as I only wanted the family present. Seeing your older brother, Joel, help your Dad carry your tiny coffin and lay you in the ground will live with me forever. He wanted to do something to help. Father Tim was perfect in how he lead the graveside service. I still couldn't believe I wouldn't see you walk, or go to kindergarten, or make some dreadful art piece, or go to your graduation.
Without having lost you, your little brother, Patrick, may have never been born. He was not meant to be a replacement for you but I know he is an extension of you. He looked exactly like you at birth. He has a special place in his heart for you even though he never met you. 
There is a reason for everything, I believe. There is a reason you are not here with us today, although I can't figure it out. I know I will know in time. I have heard you call to me once just after your death, and just recently, I got to see you. I know I will see you again, when the time is right. Just know how very much we love you and miss you and will never stop thinking of you, Michel.
Love, Mom