Most days, I’m at peace with my losses. They don’t define me every single day and no longer dictate my feelings or actions.
But on that one day every year, it gets me. For the rest of my life January 9 will always be the day my second child was due.
He was our miracle baby, the one we worried might never be possible. Then all of a sudden there he was, shocking us all and bringing so much happiness. A few short months later it was all gone.
I feel like these milestones should get easier over the years but they don’t. It reinforces for me how my pregnancy loss journey will never be over, it just takes a new direction every once in a while.
I wish I had some great words of wisdom, some deep reflection to share but I’m struggling with my thoughts. I feel sort of numb today, the same way I do on any of my due dates. I don’t know what to say other than baby boy, we remember you, we miss you, and we love you.