I just feel so empty most of the time.
I curl up at night, and often during the day, into the fetal position and listen to the stories that the inside of my body tell me. They tell me all about the alternate universe where my baby got to be born. They tell me that she�s a girl but I can�t bear to hear her name so I plug my ears whenever they mention it.
She has her father�s chubby fingers and his stick straight hair. She has my eyes and my smile. She loves the water just like me and laughs when it rains. She stands at the door with her raincoat, like a dog with a leash, saying �please mommy please� because she wants to go jump in puddles. She cries whenever we buckle her in her car seat but always stops once the car starts moving.
Late at night, her father can always soothe her by mumbling nonsense in her ear and she laughs when her big brother makes faces at her. She loves cheese just like I do, cheese sticks, Cheez-Its, Cheetos, macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese� she just loves cheese. She won�t eat apples no matter how long it takes us to peel the skin off of them and cut them into bite size pieces. She likes ketchup and smears it all over her high chair.
When she�s fussy, her daddy puts punk music on and they rock out together. She loves music, she bobs her head in rhythm to whatever beat is playing. When she is really mad, only her brother can soothe her, he lifts her up and just stares into her face, laughing and smiling at her until she is laughing with him.
Her fingernails grow faster than we can cut them, seems like she�s always scratching my neck as I put her to sleep on my shoulder. Her little fingers wrap in the hair at the base of my head, always leaving some sort of sticky residue. She loves words and just randomly shouts them out when we drive to the grocery store.
And now I have finally allowed myself to cry, it has finally become real, this little not-yet-person that I lost.
