Baby of mine, you were so loved.

You were only mine for the briefest of moments, but the joy you brought to your daddy and me was unmatched.

The first pregnancy test I took came at the end of the most difficult week of my life up to that point. I didn’t feel pregnant - but those two little blue lines said that I was. I took seven or eight more, just to be sure.

I immediately bought all the books. I started taking the vitamins. I switched to decaf coffee, and I spent my Saturday mornings on the back porch, smoothie in hand, reading my pregnancy prep books and rubbing my belly, where you were safely tucked away.

Your grandparents were so excited. We debated on how to best tell them; you were the first grandbaby on both sides. Everyone was overjoyed by your coming.

I was so scared. I feared losing you; it felt too good to be true. My friends shared my excitement, and comforted me in all my anxieties.

I talked to you. I told you how much I loved you. I took pictures of my belly growing ever so slightly with you. I ate all the healthiest foods, trying to make sure you got all the vitamins you needed. My precious baby.

I watched all the videos of other newborns, wondering what you would look like. Would you have my nose? Your father’s eyes? Our dark hair? Would it be curly or straight? Or would you be as smooth and bald as a cue ball? Would you be outgoing and extroverted like your parents, or would your sweet spirit be more reserved and introspective?

I prayed for you, hand on my belly, eyes closed, praying that you’d be healthy, that you’d come to know and to love God, and that…perhaps, while not an important prayer…but that if God saw fit, He would make you a little girl. I really wanted you to be a little girl at first. But as time went on I thought about how sweet you would be if you were a little boy. And I just prayed that you would be healthy.

Then came the day that I was to get to see you for the first time. I was so nervous, but so ready to see my little bean! I couldn’t wait to hear your little heartbeat, to know that you were okay.

But there was no heartbeat.

You were already gone; perhaps you’d been gone for a long time. I cried and cried, anguished and uncontrollable. That was the darkest day of my life, little bean. How could I have never met you and still feel your absence so acutely?

The days were long and the nights brought no relief. I never thought I’d feel happy again. I felt like without you, there was no point in going on.

I thought about all the things I will never do. I’ll never hold you in my arms, and they ache with longing. I’ll never nuzzle your sweet face against mine, or smell your sweet scent; and like a phantom breeze on the wind I can almost imagine what you would have smelled like.

My first pregnancy. My first baby. I’ll never have another. I’ll never get to share that special announcement with our family again. You were my first, and I hope I’ll get to meet you one day.

How do I go on, baby mine? How do I pick up the pieces and try again? How can I endure pain like this again?

For now I will miss you. I will long to hold you. Your due date will come and go, and I will pretend like everything is just fine. Maybe by then, I will be. But know this, little bean - you were so loved. You are so missed. I have lost a piece of myself that I’ll never get back; but I’ll comfort myself that it’s in good hands, because you’ll carry it with you forever.