I really miss her.
It's strange, how I can desperately miss someone I never even got to meet.
I miss her in her bouncer next to us when Justin, Ben, and I are eating dinner.
I miss her in her pack n play next to us while we sleep.
I miss her cry.
I miss being sleep-deprived after waking up multiple times in the night to feed her.
I miss dressing her in one of those cute outfits I bought for her. I miss her spitting up all over herself and dressing her again.
I wonder if she would have been a baby who demanded all our attention, the way her brother was. Or if she would be, like I was hoping, easy.
I wonder what color her eyes were. I wonder if they would have changed.
I miss who she would have been, could have been, should have been.
I miss the girl I thought she would become.
I miss the first day of school and soccer practices and summers at the pool and cottage and her fighting with her brother.
In this video, Kai's mom talks about losing her son. She explains that when someone close to you dies, it's often about finding your way without him, like picking up the phone to call him and realizing he won't, he can't, answer. But losing a baby? It's going back to the way things were before. And that's the most hurtful part of it, when you're so ready for your life to change to welcome this little one.