March 11, 2016
I can’t believe it has been an entire month since I last felt you kick inside me. Today should be a day of celebrating you. Instead I feel like my grief will crush me. It has been a month since the end of those 85 precious minutes. I’m thankful for the time I had with you, and did not take a single one of those minutes for granted. But I want more. I want to feed you and watch you grow. I want to teach you how to dance, and laugh while your daddy tickles you into submission. I want to watch you discover your love for reading, and your love for video games because we all know you would have loved both. I want to teach you what good music is, and see you discover the magic that lives within the Harry Potter series. I want to take you to Disney World and watch as you get swept away. I want to see you graduate high school and college. To watch you meet a man and fall desperately in love, like I am in love with your daddy. I want to help you plan a spectacular wedding that is exactly you. I want so much more than those 85 minutes.
My arms ache with how empty they are. I held you 27 days ago, but it feels like a lifetime has passed. My soul has aged hundreds of years without you. I’m weary and I miss you more than I could ever explain.
I hope you are happy where you are. I hope your grandmother and great grandmothers are spoiling you rotten, while your great aunt is playing tricks on you like she did on me. I hope you are getting into all kinds of mischief with your cousin, and making the angels crazy trying to keep up with you. I hope you’re happy.
Because I’m not. And neither is your daddy. It hurts to breathe without you, but we keep doing it. We don’t have a choice. Please know, we did absolutely everything we could, angel. And we love you more than we love our own lives.
Happy 1 month, baby.