8 years of missing you.
The sting of your absence has stretched out with time.
At certain moments the scar gets scratched open
and the salty triggers remind me of all
we are missing and have missed.
Brothers chasing each other in the greenhouse,
and imagining you with yours.
Pregnancy announcements, even still,
and the breath I hold desperately hoping they make it.
Dear friends with two under 2,
and the reminder of how desperately I wanted you and your brother close in age.
The birth of fresh new babies,
even after holding three healthy ones of my own.
The sadness that appears in your brother’s eyes
when he expresses how much he wished
you were alive.
Any mention of your name.
Josiah. Josiah. Josiah.
The chasm that was left in our hearts
was never filled by your sisters who followed.
And even if I had birthed another living son,
we would still miss you just the same.
You were your own little being,
who grew in the depths of my womb
for 20 whole weeks.
I felt you.
I loved you.
I so desperately wanted to see you grow.
But your time with us was cut short,
And our lives will never be the same.
Even 8 years later, and for always.
We miss you.
Josiah.
8 Years of Missing You
Grief Miscarriage Miscarriage Awareness Missed Miscarriage Pregnancy + Infant Loss Stillbirth