You would have been five. I was hoping you were a boy, but I would have been happy enough that you were healthy. I was already fretting about how to explain why some kids had dads who loved and cherished them, but you didn't. I was worried that he would find out I was pregnant at all. From January to May, I thought I was coping with your loss and instead, I just wasn't talking about it. Since then, you've come to me in waves. Dreams about running with you on the beach, holding you at a funeral, and watching you dance at poorly lit weddings. I often imagine you being around with your cousins and sleeping in Gigi's bed like they do. You may never have siblings and I'm sorry, but after you, I don't know if I can do it again. Though, I still get sad seeing all the Mother's day well wishes and having to stand quietly in the corner. You were my only true love, my only light, and my only life. You are and always will be a part of me.
