I remember the first time we found out about you. I laughed and cheered like mad. That night, we went through thousands of names, and wondered which one would be you. 
I remember the first time we saw you on the scan. You were 8 weeks old, 12mm long, like a kidney bean. Your heart was beating strong, and ours found where they’d belong. 
I remember how sick you made me feel. 12, 14, 17 weeks, you just kept it going. It’s going to be a boy, people said. A strong boy, they said. 
I remember how tired you made me as well. I once fell asleep while watching Eleanor, and she got hold of a pen and painted all over her head. 
I remember bearing both a boy’s name and a girl’s name to see you, when you were 16 weeks old. It’s a Boy! the doc said. We are going to have a Theodore! the news spread.    
Yes, we were going to have a Theodore. 

Say Theo, we asked. Teo, said Eleanor. Do you want to kiss your little brother, we asked. On went the kiss to my belly, from Eleanor. 
If you had stayed, Theo, you would know that Eleanor can say Theo very well now, and she can even say Frederick. She doesn’t kiss my belly anymore, she kisses the locket on my neck instead. She knows you are there. 
If you had stayed, Theo, you would know that Eleanor is the best big sister you could have ever asked for. She would cuddle you and kiss you, after taking all your toys away; she will teach you, love you, and stand in front you if any harm dares to go your way. 
If you had stayed, Theo, you would know what a lovely family you have. Your daddy is good at loving, and your mummy is good at caring. You have grandmas that can cook, and godparents who are really good at reading a book. 
If only you had stayed. 

From that day onward, our lives will never be the same, we will always be the parents who lost a kid. 
From that day onward, our lives shouldn’t be the same, because you came, and touched so many lives, and claimed your name. 

It’s okay, Theo, you go. We won’t go anywhere; we will always be with you. 
It’s okay, Theo, you go. Don’t worry about us, in the dark wet days, we will learn to draw a rainbow. 
It’s okay, Theo, you go. Look after yourself, baby, until we meet again, when we hug, kiss and shout Hello.