9 months in. Somehow, we got to this point. From this moment on, we will live longer without you than you lived within me and I just can’t even grasp how that is real. I carried you for 9 whole months and lost you in the blink of an eye. Time makes no sense. This whole week has been unbearable. The obvious smack in the face of how we will never get first school days with you - or first anything. The joy and honor I feel to watch your brothers growing up and off to Kindergarten, and the sinking reality that I’m robbed of all of that with you. Time doesn’t heal. Time is the worst of it all. Tomorrow isn’t going to be better, because tomorrow always starts without you. I’ve accepted this. My heart will forever be split in two and I will always be torn with how to be a parent to all three of you. They are back at school and I’m sitting in your room without you. You were supposed to be here. I was so excited to have this special time with just you and me. Excited to soak in what it would be like with just one, instead of two. I had so many plans. I thought about how I could get them into a routine of coming home and quickly changing so you didn’t get all the school germs when they undoubtedly wanted to be all over you, playing with you, making you laugh. God, what I would give to hear your laugh. You should be a wild little girl right now. Crawling all over, standing up and gliding the furniture, with so many falls. I know you would have been determined and gotten right back up. I wonder all the time who you would look like. I’ll never stop asking how we got here. How this is our reality. I would go through 9 more months of all of it if it meant I had 9 more months of you. Safe, inside of me. You should be here. The words that play in my head every moment of every day. We miss you and love you more than anyone can ever imagine.
I love you, I miss you, I need you, my Andi girl
