Missing part of my heart

Tonight I am up late, a seemingly new normal to me. Tonight I am missing my first child. I don’t know why. I just know I am. “She”, (I will never know if the baby was male or female, but I have always felt like this baby was a girl), would have been 5 this fall and her short life is still so deeply intertwined with mine that I often miss her. I miss her in silence, but I miss her deeply and constantly.
When I think of her:
~ I remember the smell of garlic. I remember being in church, being distracted by the smell of garlic and asking Aaron if he smelled it too. When he said “no” I immediately jumped to the idea of being pregnant.
~ I remember feeling like I was constipated.
~ I remember telling Aaron he was going to be a father.
~ I remember telling our parents, siblings, extended families and our closest friends.
~ I remember my OB telling me to “hold off” telling people until 13 weeks that I was pregnant.
~ I remember understanding the wisdom in that statement after the fact.
~ I remember going to a baby sale with my mom, a girlfriend and her mom and purchasing a lot of baby stuff.
~ I remember the joy, the excitement and daydreaming about my new baby and watching her grow up.
~ I remember waiting for my 8 week ultrasound in the waiting room with my mom, restless because I “had a terrible feeling that the baby was not okay”.
~ I remember begging the doctor to keep looking for the baby.
~ I remember catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror next to the exam bed and seeing spots cover my face, neck and arms as I broke out in hives.
~ I remember going to another doctor’s office waiting for the confirmation that my baby was gone.
~ I remember coming home with an empty uterus to a table full of freshly laundered baby clothes.
~ I remember telling Aaron that we lost the baby.
~ I remember falling down on the floor and wanting to die.
~ I remember not wanting to sleep in the bed where she was conceived and sleeping in a weeping puddle on the floor for many nights.
~ I remember wanting to drink copious amounts of alcohol.
~ I remember rock bottom.
~ I remember sitting on the front porch drinking a cup of coffee, while Aaron was gone wishing God would take me too.
~ I remember pulling “my” file out of the filing cabinet while looking for some paperwork and stumbling upon the ultrasound picture and falling onto the floor and sobbing.
~ I remember all of these things often.
At different times in my life I think about her differently. Sometimes I think of the joy, the AMAZING joy she brought. I think about the amazing impact she has had on my life. I think about the love I still have for her. Tonight, however, I think about how much I miss her. How I hurt deeply for the opportunity to sneak into her bedroom and steal a kiss like I do every night from her brothers. I think about stroking the hair out of her eyes and how I long to hold her tight. Tonight, I miss her. I miss her so much. I miss her so deeply. Goodnight sweet first baby, I will always love you. YOU will forever be the baby that opened my heart to a mother’s love and will forever reside in my heart and in my life.

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