The Price of a Swimsuit

By Bethany Conkel

It was a typical hot and humid summer here in Ohio. I was well into my pregnancy and I was starting to get big. We had already received the news that our baby had a terminal diagnosis months prior when I was just 11 weeks pregnant, and we were bound and determined to make the most of our baby’s life. We had created a bucket list of activities to do with our baby and were trying to enjoy things as much as possible.

One evening my mother-in-law invited me to go shopping at the outlet malls with her and some friends. I thought this sounded like a fun idea. It was right in line with our bucket-list of activities, so I agreed. As I waddled through the sticky outdoor mall area we came to the store Motherhood. Yes, Motherhood, that dreaded store for those of us CTT (carrying to term after a terminal diagnosis). The store that celebrates pregnancy and babies with the utmost excitement. The store with the joyful sales people who know all the right questions to ask… you know, the ones us CTT moms try to avoid like the plague. I stared at the store for a moment and realized the sad truth. I was gonna have to go in. My heart sank a little, but the fact was a much, much, much needed maternity swimsuit was being held hostage inside that store. I had desperately wanted to go swimming, and I knew I didn't have too many other options if I passed on the dreaded Motherhood store. So I mustered up the courage and my mother-in-law and I walked into the store. I looked at a few options, avoiding help from any sales people, and quickly selected a swimsuit that I thought would work well. It had a nice fit, and was flattering to my ever growing belly. Plus it was on sale – even better!

At this point, I was pretty excited. I found what I wanted, was going to get a good deal, and we had been able to avoid the sales people. NO QUESTIONS for this momma! One last hurdle remained: the checkout counter. The checkout counter for a CTT momma, regardless of the store, is a tricky place, but more so in a store like Motherhood. You have to be sure to control the small talk at the checkout counter and steer it in the right direction or you are inevitably going to hear well wishes, happy comments, or be asked a million questions about your pregnancy. Upon approaching the counter I quickly took control of the situation and things were going surprisingly well. The clerk had already rung up my order and I had money in hand ready to pay. Then she asked me for my e-mail address; trying to rush the process, I spurted it out and thought “I’ll give you just about anything if we can finish and I can get the heck out of here...” Then I heard my mother-in-law’s voice ask a question. I instantly left my thought and zoned back in on the conversation.

“Umm, ma’am. Will they be sending her e-mails and things after the baby is born?”

“Ohhh, YES! We send out all sorts of great deals and coupons with our e-mail program.”

“Oh. Well, she doesn’t want that… Can you just remove her from the list?”

“The deals are realllly great! Trust me she doesn’t want to miss out on this.”

“We don’t really come here that often, if you could just remove her from the list that would be great.”

At this point the gravity of my error was hitting me in the face full force. In my rush to get out of the store I mistakenly set myself up for months of misery after I deliver in the form of pregnancy e-mails, mommy deals, and joyful junk that I would never be able to use. Grreeeaaaaat! I had been so close to achieving victory and fell flat right at the finish line.

At this point I don’t remember what the kind lady was saying… it was something like, “blah, blah, blah our e-mail program is awesome….”

I glanced over at my mother-in-law who was starting to become frazzled, but desperately determined to fix the situation yet she didn't know what to say.

Then, before I could stop it… it came out –

“My baby is going to DIE! I don’t need the e-mails because I won’t be bringing my baby home!”

HORROR immediately filled the kind lady’s face. Then panic. Her fingers flew to the keyboard and she frantically tried to remove my name from “the list”. After a moment she stuttered, “I already hit submit and I don’t know how to undo it.” Then poor lady just melted and started to sob. She asked me a few questions about the pregnancy and our situation in-between her sobs. I mentally pulled out my pre-memorized script that I had created for situations like these and I calmly explained our situation and told her what was wrong with our baby.

Next thing I know, the sobbing sales lady left her area behind the checkout counter and came around to the front. She threw her arms around me and held me in a tight bear hug… and sobbed some more on my shoulder. I was officially stuck! There was nothing else I could do except pat her on the back and reassure her that everything was going to be alright. As I did this I remember looking over the lady’s shoulder just in time to see my mother-in-law RUNNING for the door. After what seemed like FOREVER the sweet sales lady released me from her hug and stepped back, wiping the last tears from her eyes. She then said a few nice cliché sentences. Something like, “You are so brave. What an inspiration,” and “I’ll be keeping you in my thoughts and prayers,” (for my CTT mommas out there: yes, it is okay to think “YOU DON”T EVEN KNOW ME”, and “Why am I the one comforting YOU?” – but it is best not to actually say this….). I mumbled a thank you and made sure she was alright. Then she said she would talk to the manager and see if she could get my name removed from “the list”.

Finally I was able to turn and waddle out of the store. After the door to Motherhood closed behind me, I took a deep breath of the surprisingly wonderful hot and sticky Ohio air. Humidity never felt so good!

Technically, I had been victorious for I held in my hand the much, much, much needed swimsuit… but instead of feeling the thrill of victory, I felt the agony of defeat. What was close to being the perfect CTT shopping trip, quickly won a place in the hall of fame for All Time WORST. Never in my CTT journey had I brought a sales person to tears so quickly!

During the ride home my mother-in-law teased me about making the nice lady cry. To this day we still chuckle when we think about that trip. 

But, in all seriousness folks, the journey of CTT is filled with unexpected turns. Sometimes you will be comforted by strangers, other times you will have to do the comforting. Sometimes you will have a plan and it will fall to pieces right in front of you. Sometimes you will find yourself laughing at awkward situations or events, other times they will leave you in a puddle of tears. All these things are part of the journey. Be gentle with yourself, there is no manual or how to book on how to walk this journey. It is a day-to-day, moment-by-moment, do-the-best-you-can experience.

~ ~ ~

Add caption

Bethany Conkel lives in Ohio and is married to her wonderful husband, Eric. She is the mommy to two amazing children – one who is in heaven, the other here on earth. Bethany carried her precious son, Amalya Nathaniel (meaning: “work of the Lord”, “given by God”) to term after receiving the diagnosis of anencephaly when she was 11 weeks pregnant. Amalya lived for 1 hour and 20 minutes before taking hold of the Lord’s hand. After he passed, his liver, pancreas, and whole body were donated to scientific research. Bethany has since created a website about neonatal organ, tissue, and whole body donation called Purposeful Gift to help other families explore the option of donation. She is also a certified Birth and Bereavement Doula through Stillbirthday.com and serves with Sufficient Grace Ministries.

Reuben's Story, by His Mama

Written by Meran Byleveld 

My husband and I were married in January 2014. We knew we wanted to start a family, and were thrilled to learn at the beginning of April that we were expecting a baby, due December 17th. We had seen our baby at our dating scan and were excited about our twelve week scan, as we wanted to see our baby again. We were enthralled by the tiny baby wiggling and moving around on the ultrasound monitor. The ultrasound technician, however, didn't seem to share our joy. He informed us that there was something wrong. 

During the scan, he had identified a large cystic hygroma on the back of the baby's neck. He had also noted a two-vessel umbilical cord. The technician was very solemn as he informed us that we had a high risk pregnancy. He wasn't able to give us the statistics yet, but we needed to contact our doctor as soon as possible.

The next afternoon, I went to see my GP while my husband was at work. She told me that we had a 1:4 chance of Trisomy 21, 1:6 of Trisomy 18 and 1:6 of Trisomy 13. My husband and I were devastated, but contacted our families, friends and church family, asking them to pray. At thirteen weeks, I had an appointment with a specialist obstetrician. After reviewing our results and completing an ultrasound, he informed us that he could be wrong but he believed our baby had Turner Syndrome and would die of heart failure within the subsequent five weeks. He even went as far as to phone an anaesthetist to organize "the procedure" to remove the baby once he or she was dead - while I was sitting shell shocked in his office. He also recommended that we undergo further testing, as we had told him quite emphatically that we were not willing to end the pregnancy. My husband, Rob, and I had already discussed amniocentesis and CVS testing, and I had told him that I was not willing to do anything that would risk harming our child, so he stood with me as we refused to undergo testing. 

Further ultrasounds showed a lot of fluid build-up under our baby's skin, issues with the abdominal organs and the amniotic sac beginning to come away from my uterus wall. There was also the possibility of a missing nasal bone. We continued to keep people updated and continued to pray for our child, believing that God has the power to heal, if it is His will. 

At seventeen weeks and five days, I went for my latest ultrasound. The obstetrician informed me that he couldn't find a heartbeat and that my baby had died. I was devastated, and in a state of disbelief, I returned to his clinic the following day for another ultrasound, "just in case" he had been wrong. The second ultrasound confirmed my worst fears - my baby's life was over. 

On Friday, I checked into the maternity ward of the hospital so that labour could be induced. I insisted that another ultrasound be carried out, so that I knew with an absolute certainty that my baby was definitely gone. Again, there was no heartbeat so with my own heart breaking, I allowed the obstetrician to induce my labour.

The following morning, Saturday 19th July 2014, eighteen weeks and three days into my pregnancy, and fifteen hours after being induced, my son Reuben Christopher Byleveld entered the world silently. There was no one in the room except Rob and I as our tiny baby boy was born. There were complications from the birth - over three hours later, the placenta still had not been delivered and had to be manually removed as I was sobbing with the pain. After the placenta was gone, I began to bleed heavily and lost more than a litre of blood. I spent five hours on an intravenous drip which failed to stop the bleeding, and ended up in surgery that night to prevent me from bleeding to death, and to remove the remaining pieces of placenta. In the meantime, we had two opportunities to hold Reuben. 

He was a tiny 200 grams and 16cm long. 

Reuben's teddy bear from the hospital, his bracelet and his hand and footprints.

We found out after Reuben's postmortem examination that he didn't have Turner Syndrome at all, but suffered from Trisomy 21 - Down Syndrome. 

We still miss Reuben every day and don't understand why we couldn't keep our precious son, but we are leaning on God's everlasting arms to have the strength to get through every day.

Releasing balloons on Reuben's due date.

On Gianna's First Birthday

by Christine Russo

Happy first heavenly birthday Gianna Marie

I must have written and rewritten this five times in anticipation for this day. As I sit here and try to reflect on my grief journey to date, I wonder how I made it. I go through phases of missing holding her little body so bad to periods of feeling so undoubtedly grateful for the impact she's made in our life. Both ring true, grief has been both a blessing and a curse. Grieving the loss of your child has a way of breaking you down into tiny little pieces and expecting you to pick it all back up. In that first year, are you really able to build yourself up again? 

Everyone is different, but for me, I'm still building and believe I will build for the rest of my life.

It's hard to say who I am now after our loss. Sometimes, I'm not sure who this new person is. But I'll tell you what I do know about myself;

I am a mother. A bereaved mother who has to be prepared at any moment for grief to strike.

I am grateful. I am eternally grateful that I was picked to carry our little dark haired girl for such a short time here on earth and forever in my heart.

I am vulnerable and broken. I now wear my heart on my sleeve every time I share about our daughter. Surprisingly, she comes up more than you would think in my every day life and I am all too happy to say her name, but am met with mixed reactions.

I have a weak yet strong heart. Yes, I could cry at the drop of a hat and someone could unknowingly (or unfortunately, purposely) trigger me, but I've held it together many more times during this first year than I give myself credit for. Moments I could have (and should have) lost it and Gianna kept me sane.

I am loved. By so many. Our supporters and fellow bereaved moms and dads got us through. They are my earth angels

I am a wife. A wife to my best friend and my daughter's daddy. There's no way to explain how deep our bond goes, especially after this monumental loss. All I can say is, we are one.

I am hopeful. So hopeful for brighter days and I know they are just around the corner.

My baby girl has made me a better person and created a fire in me, a passion, to stand by other bereaved parents. To help where I can and just 'be there' when there's nothing to say. She's given me so much insight on what truly matters in this world and not to sweat the small stuff because truly, so many previous strifes of mine are now so minuscule and insignificant.

She's shown us how many incredible people we have in our lives who will love her forever along with us and that's truly all we could ever ask for. For our sweet angel to be remembered and loved forever.

She is a miracle. 

Happy first heavenly birthday my sweet Gianna and thank you for all the gifts you've given your daddy and I this first year. I love you.

~ ~ ~

Christine Russo is a wife to an amazing, supportive husband, and a mommy to Angel Gianna Marie, her first child. She carried Gianna after receiving a fatal diagnosis halfway into her pregnancy. Through the love and spirit of their special daughter, who means the world to them, they wish to help support other families who have to say goodbye to a piece of their heart.

Clodagh's Story, by her Mama

written by Derbhille McGill

I was pregnant with my 8th child. We were so happy! Everything went the same as the previous ones: the sickness, tiredness, the putting on weight, even the cravings -strawberries I couldn't get enough of them - until I went for my twenty week scan. 

January 2007 my life as I new it would change forever.

My husband and I went along to our 20 week scan expecting to find out what we were going to have. Unfortunately we discovered our little girl's brain had not developed right, with parts missing. We were told to come back in two days to meet with consultant, where he then picked up her cleft lip and palate. He referred us to the royal hospital abnormalities clinic, where they also picked up her heart defects. It was suggested to us that things looked really grim, and did we want to know exactly what the condition was by the means of an amnio test? We declined due to the risk of miscarriage. We spoke with a doctor he told us that because there were a cluster of abnormalities it was most likely down to chromosomes...it wasn't just one thing wrong it was as least three they new of. We didn't really understand. We were in shock, total devastation.

My pregnancy continued and my baby continued to grow inside. I was being scanned every two weeks but looking back now I realized I was being scanned just to see if she was still alive as doctors had said to me babies like this rarely make it to term.

She made it to term!

I was induced and after a beautiful almost painless 3 hour labour our precious little girl was born weighing 7lb.

Once born we could see also she had an extra finger on each hand and low ears, but she was born alive and that's all that mattered to me! I thought she is here but disabled I will cope with that. 

When she was a day old they took her and did tests. The doctor spoke with my husband and I and told us she had a syndrome called patue's also known as trismony 13. I don't think I was really taking in what he was saying until I heard him say she is incompatible with life. I realized at that moment my beautiful little girl was going to die and my world came crashing in round me. The doctor said she wouldn't grow and she would just be like a little flower and wither away in a couple of days. All I thought was if my baby is going to die I'm taking her home to die there with all her family. 

Arrangements were put in place and eventfully she came home to all her brothers and sisters where we spent the rest of her 33 days of life with her. Those days we had with her are the most precious memories we as a family have. We were able to get pictures, videos, and actually get on as near normal as we could for the other children, even though we knew each hour could be her last with us. Every other night my husband and I took turns to sleep so she would never be left alone. 

Eventually, on a Friday, our beautiful little girl, laying in the arms of her daddy, gently passed away. Our beautiful little girl and sister is gone but the joy and love she brought to our family is still here. She is loved as much now as she was then. There's not a day goes by but someone mentions her name .

Our beautiful little Clodagh Tréisé forever loved and never forgotten.

You Are Not Alone

by Heather Kimble

You are pregnant. You may have a wide range of feelings like excitement, fear, love etc. This baby may have been planned or a surprise. Regardless of your individual personal feelings and how much planning went into having a baby, you are here and adjusting to this new exciting journey. There are so many resources, groups, and others moms that are right in front of you just waiting to help and offer support through your pregnancy. 

Sometimes you want the advice and other times you would rather just find out on your own.  But in the end the simple fact remains that support is everywhere and you don’t need to go too far to find it. 

But then it happens. You hear the words that you never expected to hear, your baby is "incompatible with life". Right away the doctor suggests termination, because even if your baby is born alive they will only live for a few moments, a few hours, or - by a miracle -days. You’re in shock. You keep telling yourself this cannot be happening. In this fog of shock and denial you are not told that there is a whole community of support for choosing to keep your baby as long as you physically can. 

Suddenly, all of the resources, groups, and other moms start to back away. The support you had when it was thought you were having a healthy baby is nowhere to be found. You are left alone. You have no idea what to do next. Where do I go from here? You feel utterly alone and lost. 

I want you to know that you are not alone. There are still resources, groups, and other moms who are here to offer you support and love. I know that the support is not out in the open and I am so sorry for that, but please do not give up; you do not have to go through this alone.  There is a small close group of moms and dads, within the baby loss community, that chose to carry their precious babies for as long as they could with nothing but love.  You are free to share your story, fears, hopes, dreams, ask questions, vent, share resources you found, show off your beautiful baby, and so much more!

I am personally forever grateful for the community of women who also carried their babies after receiving a fatal diagnosis.  We have each experienced hearing the words, “incompatible with life,” but still our individual journeys are different and unique in many ways.  

Please take advantage of the All That Love Can Do website. Take time to go through the various blog posts, resources (more below), and private facebook groups. Samuel's mama has done such a beautiful job putting together such an amazing resource and safe haven for our community. 

We all chose life for our precious babies, no matter how short of time or whether any of that time was spent outside the womb or not. We treasure each moment forever.

You are not alone. 

~ ~ ~

Heather Kimble lives in the Philadelphia area. She is married to her best friend, Jason and is mommy to Hannah Sue Kimble. Hannah is her only child. Heather carried Hannah after receiving a fatal diagnosis and was told to terminate. Heather was told to terminate based on the serious risk to her own personal health. She doesn't believe in termination and chose to carry Hannah with love. Hannah passed away and was born sleeping on December 23rd, 2013. Heather and Jason treasure every moment they had with Hannah during pregnancy and after delivery. Hannah has inspired a nonprofit started by her parents to help others and to help break the silence by sharing their journey of baby loss. Visit her blog, Hannah's Heart and Love, and follow her page on Facebook. 

Here are some resources I personally used:

Books:

A gift of time

Songs:

I will carry you

Praise you in this storm 

Websites:

All That Love Can Do

Perinatal Hospice

Stillbirthday

What I Wish I Would Have Done

by Alex Hopper

This isn’t something I have wanted to write about, or even think about for that matter. To think back to such a trying time, and to think of things I wish I had done, is so so sad, because those are wishes that will forever stay unfulfilled. My son died, and all the “if-onlys” will forever stay undone. But there are others who are still carrying their sweet children. And though their children will not live, they are still living at this moment. For them, there is still time, even if it is far too short. So I will write this, for them, so that maybe my regrets won’t have to be regrets for them.

I wish I would have talked to him more. I know that he could hear my voice, and I know that he knew my love, but I wish I would have said more. I wish I would have told him all the things I was thinking and feeling. All the things that I would not have the chance to say, by not getting to see him grow up: “We’re so proud of you”, “You’re such a big boy”, “We love you”, “Happy Birthday, Son”. 

I wish I would have sung to him. Lullabies, my favorite songs, “Happy Birthday”.  

I wish I would have rocked him to sleep. I know I couldn’t physically, but I wish I would have sat in his room at night, and rocked him peacefully in the dark. 

I wish I would have read to him. The Bible, cards we were sent, my favorite books as a child: Jamberry, Good Night Moon, Love you forever. 

I wish I would have taken more pictures. We started taking pictures as soon as we knew we were pregnant, but after the diagnosis, it was so hard to continue doing those “normal” pregnancy things. It was hard to smile for a picture, knowing the future. 

I wish we had gotten a lock of his hair when he was born. Just to have that physical reminder, that he was real. 

I wish we had gotten casts made of his hands and feet. To have his likeness in 3D is something I will always yearn for. 

While there are many things I wish I would have done, there are so many more things that I am thankful we did. I would encourage anyone who is currently in this unimaginable situation (carrying your child with a fatal diagnosis), to consider doing some of these things. And this is extremely personal. What worked for me may or may not work for you. But the point is, though it may seem impossible, try to cherish the short time you have.

I am thankful that we shared our son with others. It seemed impossible to share our happy news, being so unsure of our son’s fate, but we did. I am so glad we were open about our situation and our struggles. By doing so, it allowed our son to touch so many lives. It also provided a lot of support while we were pregnant. 

I am thankful we still had a gender reveal party and baby showers. Though it was extremely difficult, our son’s life deserved to be celebrated. It gave others a chance to love on us and our son, and we are forever grateful for that. 

I am thankful we took maternity pictures. I never really had a chance to share the photos, but having them is such a treasure for me. Those are some of the few photos of the three of us all together. 

I am thankful that we planned and decorated his nursery. It might seem like having an empty nursery with no baby to bring home would make things more difficult. But here’s the thing, the most difficult thing is having no baby to bring home. Any other things or reminders can’t add to or take away from that fact. Losing a child is terrible, period. But, for us, having a nursery for him validates his life. That room, no matter what it is in the future, will always be his room first. 

I am thankful that after he was born, we dressed him, held him, and shared him with others. I am also eternally grateful to NILMDTS (Now I Lay Me Down To Sleep) for coming and taking tons of pictures for us. We will always treasure those photos. 

Lastly, I am so thankful we chose to carry our son. We fought for his life and gave him every chance possible at life. 

During my pregnancy, I was constantly torn between knowing my son would die, but knowing that, for the moment, he was still with us. I am so thankful for the amount of time we had with him, knowing that he could have easily passed months sooner. I am so thankful for the time we had with him once he was born. 1 hour and 9 minutes of pure love. And though we should have had so much more time together, I will never forget those 231 days he was alive. I won’t lie; this will be the most difficult thing you’ve ever faced. But I can assure you your child’s life, no matter how brief, is worth it.

~ ~ ~

Alex Hopper is a writer in North Carolina. She is married to her beloved, Trent, and mommy to her angel, Cyrus. Cyrus was diagnosis with a fatal birth defect in the womb at 12 weeks. He was carried with love until he was born at 33 weeks on November 25, 2013. He lived for 1 hour and 9 minutes. His life was short, but his legacy lives on.

Dante's Story, by his Mama

written by Caitlin Gibbs

My son, my last, my only. 

When I found out I was pregnant it was a miracle as i was never supposed to be able to get pregnant ever. I was so excited I was going to be a mum! Soon after, I became homeless and was sleeping in my car for a little while. I soon found a room to rent and was starting to get everything I would need for a baby when I went for a ultrasound at 13 weeks. I cried my eyes out. I was amazed that was my baby so prefect! I found out I was having a boy then, as well, as there was no way at missing it. Even the doctor was 99% sure. I was so happy as on top of all the doctors saying i well never have children i lost my partner 3 years ago and even though i was struggling with everything i wanted to make sure I had everything for my son. When I felt him kick for the first time it was amazing and every little thing would put a smile on my face. when I was 20 weeks, I went in for a ultrasound. I was so excited to get to see him!  The doctor started checking everything and explained every thing she was doing. At the end she asked someone else to come look at something after she told me that my midwife would tell me if there was anything wrong. I was a little worried but my next appointment was only a week away. A day before I got a phone call asking if I could go in for another ultrasound and they could do it the same day as my midwife appointment. The next day I went in to the hospital. They started checking everything but when they got to his heart I knew something was wrong by the looks on there faces. My heart sank. They took me to a room and asked if I wanted someone with me. I said no as I had no one. They told me my son had two life-threatening heart defects. I left and sat in the car for 30 minutes, crying.

I had to go back in the next day to see a heart surgeon. They did more ultrasounds. I laid there for an hour while four different doctors looked at his heart. Afterwords, they then told me my son had hypo plastic left heart syndrome and interrupted aortic arch and ask me if i waned to continue my pregnancy. If so, they explained, he would have to have heart surgery within the first week of being born and stay in hospital until he was 3 months and then have four more surgeries after that. I knew no matter what, I wanted to hold my son, I wanted to feel what lots of other mums get to, so they transferred me to a hospital that had specialist so he could have as much chance as they could give him to live. Soon after, I became homeless again as the people i was living with where having problems. 

On the 23 November 2014 I woke up and noticed I was bleeding. I went in to the hospital and they found that my main waters had broken and they would like me to stay in hospital until my body went in to labour by its self. They told me while he is still inside me he would be fine. That afternoon I didn't feel right so the did an ultrasound to check on him. As they where doing that his heart started slowing down. I  could see the screen and I watched my sons heart stop beating. Everything inside me went numb. All that was going through my head was I had to get as much as I can so I could remember him -  like feet and hand prints and photos. They soon started my labour off. I had all ready called his father and asked if he would come but he hung up on me. I tried for a hour to call him but he wouldn't pick up. I screamed for him and cried. At 6:55 am on the 24 November 2014 at 25weeks 4days gestation my son Dantè angel kilduff Sherriff was born. 

I got to spent 12 hours with him. They where the most amazing hours of my life!

When I left I didn't have anywhere to go. I slept in the car out front of his father's house. I then had to organize everything by myself while I was still homeless. 

His funeral was so beautiful! 

I never cried until after everything was done. It was the day I picked his ashes up. Thats when it all hit me. Looking back, I wouldn't change a thing as I'm never going to have another child as now I have to have everything taken out. I got to hold my child, something I was told I would never get to do.

My name is Caitlin I'm 25 and my son was born. He was here and was loved every moment of his life and i will love him every second of mine. I love and miss you Dantè angel kilduff sheriff.

Thank you for letting me share my son's story so he can live on in the memories of others.

My angel forever, I love you.