You know those things you always hear about, but tend to brush off because it does not apply to you? I had heard the famous “six word novel” attributed to Ernest Hemingway (although I later found out the link to him is unsubstantiated). Anyways, that example of “flash fiction” hit me like a ton of bricks eight weeks after losing Noah.

I found the quote while browsing the tag #pregnancyloss on Instagram. When I saw it I thought of the white baby converse shoes tucked in my guest bedroom closet, what was supposed to be Noah’s room.

To understand the importance of these shoes, you need to know something about me: I am a shoe lover. Also, we need to trace back to “Baby Roberts’” pregnancy announcement exactly a year ago, and even further, we need to trace back to our wedding day.

On our wedding day, August 2nd 2014, we took many beautiful pictures by the Bay in Coconut Grove. One of them–the photographer’s idea–included my gold wedding shoes in the foreground of the picture with us out-of-focus in the background. I just loved that picture and I remember thinking, on that very same cloudy afternoon hours after marrying the love of my life, that when God blessed us with babies, I would love to recreate that picture with baby shoes. I am crazy like that.

Well, almost three years later, the Lord blessed us with a quick and expected pregnancy. The announcement was made a reality thanks to uncle David and auntie Laura (Jon’s brother and sister in law). We had so much fun taking that picture and we then had dinner at the same restaurant where we had our wedding reception.

We posted the picture on July 16th, 2017, at 12 weeks gestation–when the risk of miscarriage is supposed to drop–announcing our little (big) blessing was coming in January. We had so many likes (vain, I know). I am so glad I was able to share the joy of our baby coming before having to share the sorrow of losing him.

I thought I was going to share the “fun fact” that our pregnancy announcement was taken at the same exact place as our wedding photos, around our anniversary, instead, I shared the news that our son died…

The Takeaway

Ernest Hemingway–or whoever the real author of that six-word novel is–captured such grief in that example of “flash fiction”. Funny enough, it described my very non-fictional story. Sometimes small things–or people–can re-define our concepts. That six-word narrative transcended time, and it is established as a piece of literature, a novel.

My son’s fourteen-week life will transcend time, and his time here on earth will always be defined as a life.

Those converse are not for sale. They will be worn by Noah’s siblings. And we will always remember Noah’s legacy, as long as we live.