To "move on" is to put something behind you, forget about it and never look back
To "go on" is to forever carry it forward with you and never forget
A bereaved parent will never move on, we simply go on." ~ Author Unknown
Katerina Von Loushner was only sixteen and pregnant by a man who had lied to her. He had concealed his true identity, so she ran. She ended up in a convent, but her protection with the kind nuns didn't last long before her baby's father's aunt arrived, promising to help her. She didn't know where to go or what to do, so she accepted Vivian's help. She was scared, but she was happy and so eager to see her child. She already knew in her heart that he would be a son.
She was young and her pregnancy wasn't easy. Everything seemed to be going wrong. Her physician had concerns that she would not carry her child to term.
Every night she prayed for her little boy. She could not wait to meet him. She already had a name picked out for her sweet baby boy. She dreamed about what he might be like and all the things they'd do together once her little one was born. She had never known a love so deep than the one she had for her child.
Through all the kicks, the pregnancy scares, and her fears about being such a young mom, she made it through every single minute, awaiting the day of her baby's birth. Finally, it happened. She went into labor a few weeks early and the doctor wasn't able to stop her baby's impending birth.
As she lay on the bed, feeling contractions wrack her body, she said a silent prayer for her unborn son. She placed a hand on her swollen belly as she spoke to her child. "You're going to be here soon and I will finally get to hold you. You'll get to hear me say 'I love you' outloud for the very first time. Never forget it, baby boy. I'm your mommy and you're the greatest blessing I've had in my entire life."
She didn't get to say anymore, because the baby went into distress. The doctor said he had to rush to save the baby. He had to sedate Katerina and deliver her child quickly. In the process of such a violent birth, Katerina was almost rent in two.
Hours later she awakened, feeling groggy and weak. "Where's my baby, Vivian?" she asked. "Where IS my son?"
With a downcast expression, Vivian said the words that ripped into her soul. "I'm sorry. The baby died."
Katerina began to scream hysterically. "No! NO!" she sobbed. "WHERE is my son?"
"It was just too soon. There were too many complications," Vivian said softly. "We buried him outside, underneath a weeping willow tree."
Katerina didn't want to believe it; that her baby was gone. Just the day before she had felt his strong kicks in her abdomen as he made his presence know. How could he truly be dead and buried? But it was Vivian who had taken care of her in her time of great need. She trusted her lover's aunt with all her heart and soul. Why would she lie about something so tragic?
"I'm so sorry, Katerina," Vivian said as she touched her arm. Then she walked out as the teardrops began to fall.
Katerina wept for all the hopes and dreams that she'd had for her precious child. She'd never see his face nor count his tiny toes. She'd never rock him or nurse him or whisper to him "sweet dreams." Her baby was just gone.
When she was well enough, she went outside and stood underneath the tree so she could see his grave. It was marked with his name. She had named him after the man she had loved. James and the date of death were the only things engraved upon his tiny stone. She had planned to call her baby 'Jamie' whether or not she had a girl or a boy. All along though, her mother's intuition had been telling her that she was carrying a son.
She had missed his funeral, so as she stood at his stone, she said a few words. "I can never say goodbye, so for now, it's just good night. Rest well in Heaven. Your mommy misses and loves you."
Her voice broke as she walked away. She didn't know where she'd go or what she'd do, but she just couldn't stay. She had to get as far away as she possibly could. Maybe she'd run off to some tropical island and pursue her dreams. One of the most precious dreams of her heart was now lying lifelessly within the ground.
She packed up and left, but she would never forget. She carried her lost child inside her heart. She moved on with her life, but still had her son buried deep, somewhere inside. She became a doctor and changed her name to Carly Manning.
Nine years later, they'd be reunited when she discovered that Vivian had lied. Her infant HAD survived his difficult birth. Vivian had kept him for herself and raised him, naming him Nicholas James Alamain. When she discovered Vivian's deception, she was elated to have found her precious little boy. Dreams had haunted her for years of her baby's cry, but Vivian had claimed that her son had been stillborn. Vivian eventually paid for her most terrible crimes. Her nephew Lawrence was thrilled to discover that he and the woman he loved were the parents of a handsome son. It was just the beginning of a life of beauty and forgiveness. Nicholas brought his parents back together and for the first time in about a decade, Carly and Lawrence were truly happy.
Now every night Carly could tuck her child into his bed and tell him good night. And for once, good night would not mean goodbye.