My baby boy would be 8 months old

I can't believe it has been eight months since my precious baby boy, Nicholas, was born. Tonight, at 7:45pm, 8 months ago, this most precious boy of mine came into this world and an hour later, he traded in his early life for his eternal one. Life hasn't been the same ever since... From his birth to his sister's birth to now, we are such different people... There aren't words for how we feel, for what we want to say, for what we want to do. Our lives as we knew them stopped and now we are left... Shadows... Shells... Someone else...

It is hard to live in a world with the highest high- precious Zoë, the memories of Nicholas and Sophia- and the lowest lows- losing not just one child but two, suffering a miscarriage... Where do we fit into a world like this? How do we mourn and celebrate together, all at once.

As each day passes and we draw closer to meeting littly Zoë, another day passes and we are taken farther away from our time with Nicholas and Sophia. It is a conundrum of the worst... So much of me wanted to die in February; yet, so much of me wanted to live. Today, still, I want to die, but I want to live. To die to be with my babies, to live to be with them... There is no answer. No right one. It is only a measure of something lost, something gained.

Today, world, my son would be eight months old. He would be nursing and sleeping and playing with his sister. His mommy would feel overworked and overjoyed, both with he and his younger sibling and with her pregnancy of his even younger one! Mommy and Daddy would take care of all of them and watch over them as they sleep. Instead, my precious son and daughter watch over us... They hold us in the palms of their ethereal hands and kiss us with the soft drops of rain that fall from home on high. They warm us with their sunshine and hug us in their windy breezes. Nothing we expected but more than we'd ever thought possible.