January is the month that our first child, Peter, was due to be born. The 15th was his official due date, and it was a day that came and went without tears, just a brief acknowledgement that it was here and he wasn't.
I know that if Peter would have survived then L would not be here, which is a tricky truth.
I bring him up, not for condolances, but because I want you to remember him the same way I do. He is always present to me as a great litany of questions and imagined features, giggles and hugs.
I suppose, more than anything, I want people to be more compassionate to mothers who have miscarried and to their families. I still grieve for the child I never knew.
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