By Marissa Khosh 
Today I counted the years since we lost you. It’s been seven years, and I still think of you regularly. I had no idea it had been so long. I didn’t even realize you would be a 6-year-old right now because to me, you will always be that tiny baby on the screen. The one I have a grainy picture of. I’ve pulled it out now and then to look at, hoping to see something more than I have the other times I’ve viewed it.
I can’t believe it’s been seven years. So much has happened since we lost you. Who would you be today? Would you have been a healthy child if you could have made it safely out of the womb? You were so loved. You were special. You were my first. Not my firstborn, but my first conceived.
I remember the innocent joy of expecting you. I remember the thrill of thinking you would be growing up with a cousin close in age. I remember how indescribably exciting those days were. Every symptom that reminded me of your presence was oddly pleasant.
It’s been seven years now. Since we lost you, we have gained two of your siblings on this side of Heaven, and you have gained two, maybe three, siblings on your side. A lot has happened. Life has changed. We don’t live in that apartment where you were conceived and lost anymore. We have moved three times since we lost you. We live in a totally different state now. Your mama has changed and grown a lot as a person.
And that piece of my heart that you took with you to Heaven still has not grown back. I don’t believe it ever will. You are too precious to be forgotten or replaced. So I will gladly let that piece of my heart live in Heaven with you. And someday, I will meet you there.
They say when you lose a baby in the first trimester, you will never get to know what they would have looked like, whether you carried a boy or a girl, who that little person would have been. But I think I’ll recognize you when I get there. I will look into your sweet face and know you are my child. I will hug you and fill my once-empty arms with you. I’ll find that part of my heart I’ve been living without for these past 7 years.
Until then, my sweet baby, you are still loved. You are not forgotten. You made it home much sooner than me. But I’ll catch up one day. Until then, I will fill that empty part of my heart with memories of you. Because even though you did not make it into this world, there are still memories. Wonderful memories of planning for your arrival. Memories of talking to you. Memories of talking about you with your daddy and your grandma. Memories of shopping for your baby things. Memories of trying to give you the best nutrition through my diet. Memories of taking walks as I dreamed of you.
It’s hard to believe it’s been seven years. It’s hard to believe such a tiny human can have such a huge impact on others. But you did. You gave me the most priceless gift. You were the one who taught me a tangible lesson about the value of every single life, no matter how small or frail.
No matter how many years go by until I get to meet you and hold you, I’ll never forget what a joy it was to be your mom even though you were only with me for a couple months.
by Calleen Petersen 
