My sister recently gave me a necklace with Ezra’s initials in braille on it. It helps me keep him close to my heart and feel him when I need to. But, the braille has meaning too. It means that I cannot see my son. He is no longer here, but I can still feel him. I feel him everywhere I go. I feel him in my heart and I feel him in my memory. But I cannot see him, I cannot hear him and I cannot physically touch him. I am an invisible mother to an invisible child. When I look in the mirror I can see the scars I carry, but no one else can. No one knows that I am a mother. I go out and see other women with their children, their babies and they don’t see me. I am not a mother to them. Sometimes this makes me so angry I could scream. I fill with jealousy at their easy countenance, their obvious happiness and their obliviousness to my pain. I wish I could wear a shirt that says “Please be kind, my baby is dead.” I want to shout to the world, I am a mother! My son existed and he matters!!! But that wouldn’t be acceptable would it? I am meant to stay invisible. And invisible I may be, but I can still feel him and I can still love him. I am still a mother, whether you choose to see me or not.