"You are my one and only
You can wrap your fingers 'round my thumb
And hold me tight"

This should have been our first child.

This should have been our pride and joy.

This should have been my chance to finally become a father…

…but it isn't.

This is not our first child.

There is no pride and joy.

This is not my chance to finally be a father. Not yet my chance, at least.

I may have another chance but still…

…this is just heartbreaking.

February 12, 2015

I didn't feel like being part of One Direction anymore. There was no point in staying since everyone seemed distant from each other.

Niall and Louis were happily married and became a famous duo in all of England. They were funny, had great chemistry, and were really good looking. They got every guest starring roles on those TV shows like Saturday Night Live and Glee. They seemed to move on to acting during the biggest year of our career.

I was busy with my long-distance celebrity-non-celebrity relationship with Summer and I kept going to Vegas just to see her.

Zayn and Liam were at least trying to keep One Direction from falling apart. Sadly their efforts were in vain when all of us decided that we weren't working out as a group.

February 27, 2015

I kept myself on the down low since the band's split. I never mentioned even just hints of my whereabouts on Twitter; I stayed away from Instagram to avoid taking pictures them posting them online; I bought a Nokia phone with no Wi-Fi connectivity, no touchscreen, no QWERTY keyboard to stop posting anything anywhere; and I made sure to only use my Twitter and email to check on Summer and update her on everything happening with me.

This was also the day a pair of Elder missionaries approached me, holding out a copy of the Book of Mormon: Another Testament of Jesus Christ.

The two missionaries shared some messages to me and I remembered that Summer was from their church. I asked for a baptism to be scheduled on March 3rd. I bore my testimony saying I was ready for anything the Lord brings me.

March 3, 2015

I had just been converted to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. I was just baptized in Macclesfield Chapel in Macclesfield, Cheshire and I received the Gift of the Holy Ghost.

On the same day I asked the Bishop for the Patriarchal Blessing. I was told by the Bishop to wait until Saturday.

On the same day I attended Institute class. The lesson was about the Old Testament. (I wasn't paying attention to the teacher; I didn't really feel like listening.).

On the same day I Skyped her—Summer—and told her about my baptism. She seemed even happier about my conversion than I was. Seeing her happy made me happy so we were joyous together.

March 5, 2015

I received my Patriarchal Blessing; it was a small, folded piece of paper with some stuff written on it. One of them was:

"Marry a virtuous woman of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints."

Reading that made me smile and remember that Summer and I were engaged. I decided to make plans to go to Manila and got plane tickets for mum, Gemma, and me.

April 2, 2015

I managed to arrive in Manila ahead of mum and Gemma.

I rented a house in Greenheights Village, a small village in Paranaque City. The house I rented was, somehow, owned by Summer's family.

The house was unfinished but it felt so much like home unlike those hotels where the employees wear those big fake smiles. At least the living room and dining room are done.

The room I picked to sleep in wasn't very big and the walls were a feminine shade of purple. The door was unpainted and written on it in pencil it said "Spring and Summer's Room."

April 9, 2015

I got to reserve the Manila Philippines Temple for the day I met her—two days before our Manila show last 2013.

I Skyped to her and I asked if she could go here a few days before the reserved wedding day.

Our Wedding Day, 2015

I watched Summer's father Kristian walk her down the aisle.

Many thoughts entered my head that time.

My emotions changed from joyous to sad to excited to nervous in a matter of seconds.

Finally she stopped and stepped in front of the room with me.

The man presiding over the wedding spoke, "I do's" were shared, we kissed, and we put the rings on each other.

I couldn't think of what to say for the rest of the day because only one thought lingered in my brain:

Holy shit, I'm bloody fucking married.

December 16, 2015

I watched as Summer cheered so loud she could probably be heard by our neighbours.

[Our house is really big and all the other houses in Corinthian Gardens are even bigger so if they could hear her that would be quite alarming.]

"What is it, s'tart?" I asked, confused.

[Just to be clear, "s'tart" is a shortcut for "sweetheart."]

"Harry, I have spectacular news." She replied.

I didn't even say anything but she just blurted out the news.

"I'm pregnant!"

Oh. My. Fucking. God.

January 19, 2016

We go to the hospital—Makati Med, I think—and we enter the radiology department.

The nice doctor told her where to wait, where to sit when he was available, tried to flirt with her, asked a female doctor to take over, and left.

The female doctor (God, I'm terrible with names!)—who looked like she was in her early forties (For fuck's sakes, Styles, you're married to Summer!)—asked Summer to find a comfortable position on the bed thingy and told her to unbutton her shirt.

When the doctor left I unbuttoned Summer's shirt. I kissed her stomach and moved my mouth upwards to her…mammary? Anyway, so while I was kissing my wife on various exposed parts of her body the doctor arrived and totally interrupted us!

"Mister Styles, do not kiss your wife on the stomach," she said. "We're going to put gel on her." She said.

I parted my lips from her skin and let the doctor do whatever she needed to do: she put some gel thing on Summer's stomach, put the thingy (So what if I forgot what it's called?) on her stomach, then rolled it over, spreading the gel—Summer says the gel is cold.

"There's the head," the doctor said as she pointed the screen.

I couldn't see anything. All I could see was black and grey.

"There are the feet!" Summer said as she smiled.

"Would you like to know the sex?" asked the doctor.

My eyes turned to the doctor. "The what?"

"Would you like to know the gender?"

Summer looked at me and looked back at the doctor. "Yes, please."

The doctor puts the rolling thingy somewhere close to the mammary, let it stay, and smiles at Summer. [I think she hates me now.]

"It's a girl."

Here we are now, in the same hospital.

What was once celebration for the birth of our firstborn is now mourning for the death of our firstborn.

It's unfair. Why does my firstborn have to have this fate? How did we not know that something was wrong with our baby? What did we do wrong? Was there a way that could have prevented this from happening?

There's no turning back. What's done is done. My first daughter—or perhaps my only daughter—is dead and there is nothing I can do about it.

As I sit next to Summer in the delivery room, crying, someone taps my shoulder. I look up and see a nurse.

"Mister Styles, would you like to see what should have been your daughter?" she asks.

I reluctantly agree and I slowly stand up and follow her.

She leads me to a room at the back of the delivery room and she holds out a baby swaddled up in a towel. I get the baby from her hands and carefully hold it as if changing my grip would make the baby shatter into a million pieces.

Here she is, in my arms, with no heartbeat, not breathing.

I look at her face and notice her details: her hair is like mine; her eyes—closed—are like mine, everything about her face reminds me of my baby pictures. The only difference between me and her is the sex. She's a girl, I'm a man.

The thought of her actually being my daughter fills my head and my grip on her tightens. My tears fall out. I cry the loudest I've ever cried. Why does my daughter have to be DEAD? Why does the daughter that I know is mine have to be dead? Why does the daughter I never got to know have to die before I get the chance to teach her how to live?

Tears continue to fall from my eyes. I can't help it.

All of a sudden I feel my baby moving. My tears keep flowing as they land on her swaddling. Her eyes open, revealing those brown eyes that are unmistakeably her mother's. Her lips curl to a smile, a smile that looks so much like her mother's but she has dimples like me.

"Nurse, she's alive!" I shout to the nurse.

She looks at the baby. "Mister Styles, I'm afraid she's not alive."

I look at my daughter and see that her eyes are shut and her lips show no emotion, showing that she has always been dead and never woke up.

"But…she was alive just a second ago."

"Mister Styles, I think you should just go to your wife."

The nurse takes my baby from my hands and another nurse pulls me to Summer's bedside.

"Excuse me, Mrs Styles, your husband…"

I couldn't hear what the nurse was saying. All I can hear is the sound of my baby's cries and laughs.

"Where is my baby?" I hear Summer as quietly.

Reality hits me. I hear the insanity in my wife's voice. Did I sound like her when I said our baby was alive?

"I need to see my baby! I can hear her crying. Baby needs me, her mommy. She needs to see if her mommy can take care of her. LET ME SEE MY BABY!"

I quickly hug her and tell her (soothingly) that our daughter is not with us but we should not think of it as something to put as down. I tell her that this experience is part of Our Heavenly Father's plan. "Just relax, s'tart. Everything will be okay."

"Maybe you were needed out there
But we're still unaware as why."