You should be here

My dear Lily,

I wish you were here. The whole family got together the Sunday before last at the B&B where we house and dog-sit. All the aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins, and your great-grandmother were there. That weekend was really tough for me. I missed you more than I had for a while. 

I told you all about your cousin, Daniel, my first cousin who was born four months after me. We grew up as best buddies and I couldn't have been more excited that we were going to have a boy and girl, three months apart. You and Owen, two peas in a pod. You two were gonna grow up together and spend the months looking forward to the next time you'd see your buddy. You were gonna watch each other's backs. You were gonna enjoy each other's company as much as Daniel and I did. 

I met 6-month old Owen that weekend for the first time. You would be 3 months old now. You would be smiling now. It was so hard to meet him, little girl. I tried so hard, I promise you I did. But, I was overwhelmed with missing you. Somehow seeing Owen made the loss of you all the more real. Seeing a real, live baby. Not a lifeless baby like you were when I held you. It was especially hard, knowing you are his cousin, knowing you should have been there meeting him. I had looked forward to the time so much. 

I couldn't help feeling jealous, as I watched Owen's mommy hold him, kissing his forehead, feeding him his bottle. I quietly watched her as Owen fell fast asleep in her arms. I studied her as I watched her be his mother. And the ache inside me was there like never before. Never before have I wanted to be a mother so badly. 

Owen was the center of attention and you weren't mentioned once. It's like people have already forgotten about you. Like I'm not gonna remember you if people don't bring you up. I wish people would understand that I think of you and miss you no matter who says what. It just makes me miss you more when people act like you never were.

I didn't hold Owen for two days. I was jealous, I was hurting, I was angry, I was heartbroken. On that Sunday afternoon, he was napping when no one else was around. And I watched him. I watched him sleep, turning his head from side to side, breathing deeply, wiggling his arms around. I rubbed his back and I was so in love with this little boy. I can only imagine how much love I would have felt for you, my own child. I still feel the love. Owen is so precious, red hair, blue eyes. You would have been so cute in pictures together.

Daniel makes Owen laugh. He plays peek-a-boo with him and I look on as Owen waits in anticipation, knowing his daddy's face will be appearing any moment. And it grips my heart. I will never hear your giggle. I will never know how it might have sounded. 

On Monday, I finally held Owen. I knew you'd want me to. All I could think of when I held him was how much I loved him. How much I adored this little boy, who was a miniature Daniel. How could I not adore his son? It made me feel connected to you. It was okay. I was scared, but it was fine. I kissed his cheeks and held him close. 

Daniel was really dear about it too. He could tell it was hard for me and he was really sensitive about it. He understood. We went to the cemetery, just me and him, and visited you. We talked about you. We missed you. He wishes you were here too. I'm glad he has Owen...it's helping him grow up and mature.

Holding Owen was healing. It was beautiful. I just wish I could see him more often. I wish you two could have played together. From now on, as I watch Owen grow up, I will always know I should have a daughter the same age. I will wonder what you might look like, what you might enjoy, how you and Owen would love playing. And I'll miss you forever.

Love, Mommy

Daniel and I when we were kids

Daniel and I when I was pregnant with Lily