I am a mother, a mother of three boys; only two of which you can see. Our third son, Everett Charles King, was born sleeping on July 30th, 2015 at 1:06 am weighing .74 oz and measuring 4 1/2 inches long. He was not a bundle of tissue, a mass of cells, or a lost pregnancy. He was a fearfully and wonderfully made masterpiece. He was a child of God with ten little fingers, ten wrinkly toes, two eyes, two ears, and a mouth. A baby whose heart inexplicably stopped beating before he could take his first breath. Everett is our child. Our third son. Our sons younger brother. A part of our family. Don’t ask me to keep his memory locked up in a box out of sight and private. Push past your discomfort, your lack of words, that unavoidable awkward pause after I tell you I have three boys; two living and one in Heaven and honor his short life with me. Ask me about him. Say his name. Share his story. Acknowledge his life and his death. Know that although we may heal and have more children Everett will never be forgotten. His memory will never fade and he will always be counted in our numbers.