Early in May, I had a positive pregnancy test at the Crisis Pregnancy Center where I volunteered. A week later my OB-GYN confirmed that I was pregnant with baby number five. 

I felt great! No problems. 

Until I started bleeding. 

At ten weeks they could not find a heartbeat. The doctor did a four ultrasounds over the next two weeks. Not only could they not find a heartbeat, they could not even find a baby! “Not a viable pregnancy” was what the doctor wrote on my chart. Fortunately, he did not like doing a D&C unless my health got really bad. So we waited. I got better. The bleeding stopped. 

Seven months later, on Christmas Eve, Andrew Raymond Duncan was born. A healthy boy. 

I told Andrew about this on his 20th birthday, his last on earth. “I don’t know where you were, but they could not find you on the ultrasounds,” I told him. 

His response, “I WAS IN NARNIA! Much more fun than that whole womb thing.”

I love Andrew, my son. My sweet, goofy Andrew. 

I miss him terribly. His laugh. His joy. His sense of humor. His kindness to the underdogs of the world. His lack of filters…well maybe not that so much. 

Happy Birthday, sweet Andrew-son. Life here on earth just isn’t the same without you.

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