breaking all over again
July 1st, 2010
“I don’t want a baby girl,” I said, my eyes filled with tears without release. “I want my baby girl.”
But I lost her, I won’t ever have her. There are days when I wake up wondering where she is, and then I remember that she was never even born.
I see other people with their daughters, and I miss mine so much. She would be 7 years old this August.
I don’t want a baby, now. I want my daughter. I want my little sister for her big brother, who loves and misses her like I do. I want to have never lost her, I want to not have never gotten to meet her.
For a long time, just the possibility of someday maybe having another baby mitigated that pain – even if I didn’t want to have one, knowing I could helped. For a while, I planned to give other people what I had lost, and that filled the hole in my heart, eased the ache.
“And now I’m losing that, too. And my heart is breaking all over again,” I said, and the tears found their release.
