My husband accidentally left our baby in a hot car, and he died. I forgave him — but our love is different now.

• Lindsey Rogers-Seitz's husband forgot that their baby was sitting in the back seat of a hot car.
• She would rage against her husband, but was determined to keep the family intact after the death.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Lindsey Rogers-Seitz. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

In the hospital, after the doctor told me my baby, Ben, had died in a hot car — and my husband, Kyle, had accidentally left him in the back seat — I asked to see him.

Kyle lay on a gurney, rocking back and forth, muttering in shock and grief. I climbed onto the gurney and wrapped my body around him, pressing my cheek against his.

"That's enough now," I said, trying to soothe him. My heart was filled with love at that moment.

Then my mind took over. I felt love and hate at the same time. I released my grasp and said, "I'm here for you, but I've got to go right now." I needed to process what had happened, so I had to be alone.

Our son, Ben, was beautiful in so many ways

Ben died in July 2014, when he was 15 months old. I started to write down my emotions a year later. It was therapeutic — a way of trying to deal with the fact that Ben was no longer here. Now, eight years on, I've turned my writing into a book called "The Gift of Ben: Loving Through Imperfection." I want to share my journey to help other people who've experienced tragedy and loss.

Kyle and I were delighted when Ben was born in 2013. I knew from the beginning that he was special. "Oh my gosh, Ben, you're so beautiful," I said when I first saw him. Kyle laughed, "You can't call him beautiful. He's a dude, and you have to call him 'handsome!'" But he was beautiful in so many ways.

Our daughters adored their little brother. He was such a sweet, loving, and tender baby. His laugh came from deep in his belly, and it made everybody smile.

He loved to play with soft, plushy balls. He had about 20 in his room and he took them everywhere. We have the cutest video of him running with a ball in his hand when he was around 13 months old. He wanted to throw it so badly, but he didn't know how.

Kyle was a stay-at-home dad until he got a new job when Ben was 4 months. It was always the routine that Kyle took Ben to day care on his way to work. It was shortly after July 4, and my parents were visiting. The girls were on summer vacation. It was a sweltering day.

Ben's day care called to say that he hadn't been there all day

If you do something habitually every day, it can become almost automatic. But for some reason — whether it was because the house was crowded and we'd had a hectic morning — Kyle forgot about going to the day care. He parked at his office, unknowingly leaving Ben in his car seat in the back of the car.

I was at soccer with my older daughter, who had practice that afternoon. Kyle and I are always in contact throughout the day via text or phone. I started texting him, but he didn't respond. It wasn't like him. Then the day care called and said, "We're calling to check up on Ben to see if he's OK." I said, "What do you mean, 'Is he OK?'" And they said, "He never came to day care this morning. Then your husband came to pick him up, but he wasn't here."

At first, I thought they might have had a car accident. But didn't make sense. I would have known about it earlier in the day. I knew in my gut that there was no explanation but a hot car. "It's what happens every summer," I thought. I drove to the police station and had an anxiety attack outside. Then I walked up to the front desk with the girls. "This is Lindsay Seitz," I said. "Is there something going on with my family that I need to know about?"

"We've got to get you to the hospital," an officer said. They told me that Ben had been taken there by Kyle. They weren't allowed to give me any more detail. A social worker took me into a small room at the hospital. The doctor told me what had happened, that Ben hadn't made it. My mind went blank.

I was concerned about Kyle. I knew how much he loved Ben and thought he might do something to hurt himself. They said, "He's here, and he's OK. But he's very despondent." They asked if I wanted to see him, and I said, "Of course."

I followed my instinct and embraced him. He cried and cried. He was inconsolable. But I knew I had to leave to be alone. I felt this extreme dichotomy of love and anger.

They sedated me. I asked them to sedate Kyle as well. Then we left the hospital. We planned Ben's funeral.

I asked people to wear colorful shirts and dresses, instead of black. Ben was such a joyous person. I also suggested that people brought those soft little balls — his favorite toy. We donated them to a children's charity in his honor.

We left Connecticut and took a trip out to Texas. One night, I was outdoors, contemplating the night sky, when Kyle appeared. I was overcome with rage. "How could you have done this?" I cried. "You can't unilaterally take away my son. You're not God."

Kyle was charged with criminally negligent homicide

But there was always a kernel of love in my chest. It hadn't had the opportunity to start growing again. But I knew that I was going to stay with him and fight through everything. I didn't want our family to be torn apart. We focused on the girls. We tried to make their life as normal as possible. They needed to laugh and have fun with their friends.

Kyle complied with the authorities and had supervised visits with the girls. He was charged with criminally negligent homicide in November 2014. The following spring, he agreed to an Alford plea, which means you don't admit guilt, but you agree that prosecutors have enough evidence to find you guilty. He received two years of conditional discharge and a suspended sentence for one year.

I knew there would be consequences, but I never thought I'd come under investigation. Even though I had not been involved with the specific events of the day, the Department of Children and Families wanted to examine my medical records. They'd learned that I had been diagnosed with bipolar disorder.

Still, my bipolar disorder has helped me stand by Kyle. I'd been an inpatient at three psychiatric facilities in my 20s. Things got so bad; Kyle could easily have left me. But he refused. As time went by, I realized that although our love was different and quieter, I wanted to be at his side.

Forgiveness is a lifelong process. It's not linear. There are days when it's a battle. But it's linked very closely to unconditional love. I've forgiven Kyle in my heart.

The most powerful concept of faith is the connection that humans have with each other. Some people are meant to be soul partners. It doesn't have to be a spouse. It can be your kids, your friends, anyone. I believe that we were put on this earth to teach each other unconditional love. I have found a greater version of life — a bigger purpose — through Ben.

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