I miss my son. As we prepare our home for our daughter, I find myself missing him more and more. Missing him doesn't negate excitement for her. It is just complicated and hard. Sometimes I have to cry. The pain doesn't go away. It lessens, but it doesn't leave.
Tonight it hurts, and I am crying for a myriad of reasons. There are so many women in the same place. Miscarriage is shockingly common, but we as a society tend to turn away from it. For the parents, the families, turning away isn't an option. They will always miss their child.
Tonight I am mourning my son. I am cursing Ancephaly and how it took his life. At the same time, my daughter is kicking me, reminding me she is healthy, my rainbow after the flood. In the room next to us, their older brother sleeps and reminds me that I have already been given a miracle.
Tonight I am praying for all the parents who have lost a child. I am hoping that they are as blessed with support as we are. I am asking God to comfort them as He has comforted is. I am wishing for a day when miscarriage is something that we can freely discuss.
I miss my son, I am excited for my daughter, and delighted to be the Mother of my three year old miracle baby. God is with me. He is beside me and will comfort me. It is complicated, painful and incredible all at once.