In the middle of it all, of human resources crises and paperwork avalanches and decades old music in my ear, the thump in my belly can’t drown out this sudden deep awful aching.

I just want my baby back.

It’s all I can think and the tears pour down my face. It’s dark outside and way to late to be sitting at this desk and none of these stupid, stupid things matter at all.

I just want my baby back.

And I know these little ones who just figured out how to make me notice their bouncing around agree with me whole heartedly. They want him back too. They know it has nothing and everything to do with them. They know I am so tired, and so overwhelmed, and still so very much grieving for their brother that their little hands and feet are the best comfort and the biggest reminder.

I just want my baby back.

I push replay.

Your touch made me a king; I don’t want to live without your love again.
I’ll do anything.

To make you see what I’m imagining, to know the pleasure of your smile in the rain, to keep the light from vanishing,

I’d do anything.

I fly this airplane upside down; I walk out on the wing. To see you watching from the ground,

          I’ll do anything.

When I see the light upon your upturned face, I can hear the angels sing. Don’t ever let another take my place,

I’ll do anything.*

Anything.

Anything for you, buddy.

Anything.

*Jackson Browne, I'll do Anything