Thinking of you

I spent a long time talking with my step grandma about you, Henry. She too lost a baby at about the same age as you were. We talked about the differences. When she lost her little girl, she wasn't allowed to see her or hold her. I at least got to hold you, and have memories of you.

I miss you, Henry. Some days, the hurt is still so raw. I don't understand God. But I accept His plan, His will.

Losing a child. Sometimes, Henry, I wish that I had never had you grow inside of me. Sometimes I think that never having heard your heart beat, or seeing your face, would be better than having the feel of you burned into my hands and heart forever. I can still feel you in my hand, all 9 inches of you, all 9 oz of you. I can still see your perfectly formed body, your amazingly long fingers and toes. I still wonder whether or not you would have been my musician child.

But then--- the thought of never having you grow inside of me--- that leaves me empty too. I remember how betrayed I felt, how much of failure I felt like when I was trying to get pregnant, and how elated I was when I found out you were inside of me. I felt like I had succeeded, that I was a capable woman again.

Oh baby boy. I miss you. I really really really do. It's so unfair.