The first time I went to the morgue, I was 21. Still young enough to believe that love could keep a baby alive. In this episode, I share a deeply personal poem about the first death that broke me—a shaken baby, taken too soon, placed in my arms one last time before the cold took him for good. This is a story of grief, helplessness, and the unbearable weight of carrying a child into a place meant for the old. Some losses never leave you. Some names you never knew still stay with you forever.

Copyright © 2025 Kate Earley