It’s been 5 months. The first month date since your due date last week. It amazes me how much time has gone by. O is trying so hard to understand. He wants to know where you are and why you aren’t here. So do I. It makes no sense that you aren’t here.
If I was still pregnant I would be 41w1d. Not out of the realm of possible. I would be looking around at the other 4 babies due in the same 12 days as you who are already home. Wondering when it would be our turn. But you never came home. Monday was 5 months from your last day home and you were still inside. You didn’t come home for another week, and then it was as ashes. Incomprehensible that ashes is all we have left. You should be here, either getting ready to come out, or keeping us up all night snuggling, crying and nursing.
But that was never going to be, as much as I still fantasize about it.
I wonder so often lately who you would have been. Would you have been the quiet, sleepy, easy baby that your brother never was? You might have been our last and we would have tried to soak up every second. But now we pray that you are not our last. You were never supposed to be. You were supposed to be the middle child. I wonder if you would have lived up to the stereotype of that title. But with a pregnancy so hard, we wondered if we could have done it again.
And now we pray we will get to. Not that any baby will ever replace you. No one else will ever be Noah. Be 2 years younger than O, tagging along after his big brother, or go to the same middle school.
But we hope for the chance to try again. We will hopefully be starting fertility treatments in the next two months. But if we are lucky enough to have another, they will always know of their big brother Noah. The one who should be here, but isn’t. Who we think of, love, and hope to one day meet again.