I still think about her. Every day. All day.
When we are eating breakfast, or playing outside, or going down for bed – I picture what life would be like with her. I can see exactly where she would fit.
I still feel that dull ache of something missing. The void is so real and tangible its odd to me that I can’t reach out and touch it.
I long to know her face, her smell, and the feel of her skin. I wonder if she’ll remind me of my girls. I wonder what she would feel like in my arms.
I need to know if she’s okay. If she’s warm and loved. If she’s eating and sleeping. If her in-utero exposure has left her with any struggles.
It’s not the acute pain I felt initially. I haven’t cried for her in a while. But her presence is always with me. My mind always drifting back to her. Dreaming and longing and thinking of her.
It’s still feeling to me like I’ve lost a child. I wonder if this is what her first mom is feeling as well.