You would be 16 months old this month.
You would be cruising all over the place and eating everything in sight.
You would be laughing and smiling and playing with your siblings.
You would be doing crazy things that defy explanation and logic while also making it impossible for me to scold you without laughing.
You would be wearing cute little bathing suits with ruffles and bows and sunscreen.
Or you could be wheelchair bound due to your Turner Syndrome. You could be a 24-hour concern, requiring my every ounce of energy but worth every exhausted moment.
I would be anxious about your every breath instead of mine. I would be worried about every cough and cold and rash and scrape and ache. I would hover and over-protect and flip out. I would yell at people staring at you and threaten kids who weren’t polite.
I miss you. And I mourn the fact that I don’t have you. The fact that there was this little piece of me living in this world who I didn’t get to nurture and hug.
I mourn that Maggie has missed out on having a baby sister and partner in crime. She misses you too. And is often sad about it, but I learn so much from her. When she says she is sad about you, the very next thing she says is that she will see you in heaven when she dies.
You are such a part of this family. I have four children – not three. I delivered you just as painfully and joyfully as I delivered Bo, Maggie and Joe. I did hold you for a moment. I did kiss your tiny hand. I did get to say goodbye.
I owe you some thanks. Thank you for teaching me that every soul means something. Thank you for teaching me that I can be brave in the face of loss. Thank you for teaching me not to take things for granted.
Thank you for Joe. I would not have Joe if I had not lost you first. I would not appreciate Joe or be as patient with Joe if I had not lost you first.
I would not understand my mother’s love for me – the child born after loss – without first losing you.
I know for sure that having you and losing you was all part of God’s plan. I know without a doubt that this all happened the way it was supposed to. But it still hurts and I am still sad. I still wish things could be different. But different in a way that would allow me to have Joe too.
Mostly, Luna, I love you. I love you without knowing you. I love you without meeting you. I love you completely. I love you in a way that I can’t explain.
Give my daddy, my sister and my brothers big hugs and kisses for me. You are a lucky little girl to be there with such a crowd of amazing people.