Seven years ago I was pregnant with you, my first baby.

The excitement I felt when I saw that little pink plus sign was a whole different kind of excitement and with it came so many dreams and so many plans.

I dreamt of your 10 little fingers and your 10 little toes.

I dreamt of what you would look like—if you would have your daddy’s nose or my eyes.

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I dreamt of possibly having a daughter.

I dreamt of possibly having a son.

I dreamt of what we would name you.

I dreamt of taking you home for the first time and laying you in your bassinet.

And then came the plans.

I planned what I wanted your nursery to look like.

I planned what songs I would play for you when I rocked you to sleep at night. 

I planned to buy the safest car seat and stroller for you.

I planned which room would be yours in the house.

I planned on showering you with so much love.

I would spend hours just dreaming and planning.

But that’s the funny thing about life—it doesn’t care about your dreams and plans sometimes.

Seven years ago I was pregnant with you, and a month later, I wasn’t.

Something happens to you when you lose a baby.

You just somehow become . . . different 

It doesn’t matter if you were pregnant for one month or several before you lose a baby, to us mommas they’re still our babies no matter how small.

I think what I remember most is people saying, “at least you weren’t that far along.” As if the significance of your life to me could somehow be measured by something as trivial as weeks and time.

They say time heals all wounds—and that may be so—but for some, you are still left with a scar.

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Truth be told . . . a part of me didn’t want to heal completely because that would mean I would have to forget.

I would have to forget all the plans and dreams I had for you and me.

And although I was blessed enough to live out my plans and dreams with your sister, who by the way has your daddy’s nose, and your brother who has my eyes, I still wish I could have met you.

You will always remain my first baby no matter how far along I was.

I may have only carried you a short time little one, and life will continue to carry on, but as long as I live I’ll carry you with me.