Leo’s life will not read: Leo Phoenix, stillborn, full stop.
Normally there’s a story after the word born.
They were born and became something, they did something – even if it wasn’t of note, or worthy, or even legal – it was still something.
Leo will not be followed by a full stop.
Talking about him. Obsessing about him. Writing about him. Fighting for him. This doesn’t mean my life is being defined by his, defined by stillbirth. From day one, we vowed, this experience is not going to be defined by stilllbirth.
To me, that means there’s more to stillbirth than a still birth. Birth is not the end of this story. It’s just the beginning. Or the middle. It’s a chapter, a page, a line. The rest is still being written.
I want people to know my son’s name. To feel love for him. To want something for him. To want a story.
I want it to go, Leo Phoenix, stillborn, still saving lives. Leo Phoenix, stillborn, still making memories. Leo Phoenix, stillborn, still moving mountains, kid.
Leo Phoenix. I want people to just know who that is. Without explanation. Without definition. I want his name to say it all.
We are going to help you move those mountains, kid. We may be in the room where people wait sometimes, but those mountains are slowly moving for you. You are moving them.