Two

Dearest baby girl, has it really been two years since I held you? Two years since I examined every inch of you, slept with your delicate little body wrapped up and tucked beside me? I slept, somehow, and yet I remember being fiercely aware of your presence, terrified that if I were to move in such a way you would fall. And my rational brain argued that it wouldn't really matter, would it? You couldn't feel anything, you couldn't die again.

I have thought of you nearly every second today, replaying the events of two years ago over and over. I let the tears fall when they needed to, but they came and went without a lot of lingering sadness. We went down to the beach and lit candles for you tonight. Two glowing lights for the years we have lived without you, shining against the backdrop of a brilliantly pink and golden sunset. It was beautiful and simple and perfect, your brother squealing with delight as he stepped across the sand, reminding us of all we have to thank you for.

Without you, we would not have Orrin. We would not have known about the MTHFR and the extra vitamins I had to take. I would not have realized how much purpose I found in motherhood. I would not have known my own strength, or that I could love a baby so much that I would choose the unthinkable. I would not have united with so many other strong and courageous women who have walked this path before me, along with me, and after me. I wouldn't have discovered my more local soul sister, or been by her side as she joined me in this journey.

I have so, so much to thank you for.

So, two years later, I celebrate you. I love that you chose me, that I had the honor of knowing your little soul, even for just a little while.

You will always be a part of me.

I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be

Happy birthday baby girl.