On Saturday, the 4th of October, 2025, the world both gained and lost something precious.
We welcomed our newest family member — Teddy.
He was born sleeping. 💔

It’s a sentence that feels impossible to write.

How can the words “born” and “sleeping” exist together?
But that’s the cruel paradox of life — how beauty and heartbreak can coexist in the same breath.

That night, while his mother slept peacefully, something went terribly wrong.

There was no pain, no warning, no chance to call for help.
A complete concealed placental abruption — a phrase that now holds unimaginable weight.
Her body betrayed her silently, separating life from life before anyone knew what was happening.

When morning came, the world was still spinning, but theirs had stopped.
There were no cries, no tiny heartbeat echoing through the room.
Only stillness — the kind that crushes the air from your lungs.

Doctors explained it with gentle voices.
“It just happened,” they said.
A cruel lottery. No reason, no fault, no suffering for Teddy — only peace.
But for his family, a wound that would never close.

There are no words that can fix this kind of pain.
No amount of comfort that can reach that deep hollow in a parent’s chest.
All anyone can say is “I’m sorry,” and even that feels too small, too fragile.

So they ask, simply, for presence.
“Please, include us in your lives. Don’t be afraid to talk about him.”

Because silence is worse than sorrow.
And remembering Teddy — even through tears — keeps him close.

Oakley, Teddy’s big brother, is only six.
He doesn’t understand death in the way adults do.
For him, Teddy is still his baby brother — the cutest baby ever, he says.

He kisses him gently, again and again, as if love could wake him up.

He asks questions only a child could: “When will Teddy wake up?”
And his parents answer through tears they try to hide.

Oakley is their sunshine in this storm, the small, warm light that refuses to go out.

Mike, Teddy’s dad, carried the unbearable task of telling their family.
Each phone call shattered a little more of his heart.

Yet through the pain, he became the pillar his wife leaned on — her safe place in the unthinkable.
He held her hand when words were too heavy, when breathing felt like a job.

He is the father of two boys now — one he can hold, one he carries in his heart forever. ❤️

That day, Teddy’s mother did something extraordinary.
Through her tears, she performed the most important life-casting job of her life — Teddy’s tiny hands, his perfect feet, his little face.

She captured his existence in the only way she could — through touch turned to memory.
A bittersweet final act, equal parts love and heartbreak.
She held his finger, one last time, pressing her own into his.

That small imprint would become her anchor — proof he was real, that he was hers.

Now, they spend these final hours together — whispering lullabies, tracing his cheeks, memorizing the weight of him.

There will be no funeral, no public goodbye.
Just quiet time, just love, just family.

They ask for understanding — for privacy, not distance.
They want to grieve in peace, surrounded by love that doesn’t need to be spoken aloud.

As the sun sets on this October day, they hold him one last time.
The world outside continues, unaware of the miracle and the loss that happened inside those four walls.

But in their hearts, Teddy will live forever — in laughter, in memory, in every breath his family takes.

He was born sleeping, but loved beyond measure.
And somewhere, somehow, that love continues. 🌙