I don’t know why today it has hit me harder than it has in a long time. I always think about the baby on it’s due date in May, and on the day that I found out I miscarried in Oct. In fact, I rarely even feel sorrow now. I feel more nostalgia of what could have been rather than actual sadness.
But it is July. Why July 16th? No idea. But today I am missing the little one that should be in our family pictures, but isn’t.