Emerson

Today was supposed to be our due date. 

January 31.

We brought some roses to throw in the river at our favorite park.  When we move to our next (permanent) house, we will be planting a tree in our baby's memory.

As we tossed the roses gently into the river and watched them float downstream, I thought about our baby.  About how much I miss her every single day.  About how I wish I was complaining about being huge and awkward and uncomfortable at nine months pregnant, instead of attending her memorial service.

And the thought that has brought me more comfort than anything else during this nightmare: that I would do anything, ANYTHING for my children - and if feeling this sadness means sparing our baby any discomfort and pain, then it's worth it, even though I will miss her every day of my life.

I named her Emerson.