January 2nd.

To most that date doesn’t mean anything. To me, it means another year old. A daughter we never got to hold. A daughter who would be 4-years-old.

Who would you have been Selah?

I see bouncing blond curls. I see big brown eyes. I see her in my son.

“Baby, baby, baby.”
I hear her in Lachlan’s loving words to his younger brother.

I feel overwhelming gratitude that my two boys help fill that void but the void still partially remains.

That void is not just held for me but for those women who have a brand new empty hole. A hole created by their own loss. The loss of their dear one. It is held for the woman who has recently heard those words;

“We can’t find a heartbeat.”

January 2nd. A date that taught me to hold the pain, to hold the grief of the one I’ll never get to hold.

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