I had a miscarriage two years ago.
Two years ago today, actually.
It's not something I talk about much.
Even now. Two years later.
I've had another baby since then. Sweet little Ellie - the world's happiest, most easygoing baby.
But I still think about the baby we lost.
Even now. Two years later.
It was too early in the pregnancy to know, but Nathan and I both thought it was a boy. We even had a name tentatively picked out: Kieran.
Lindsay was pregnant at the same time I was, our due dates one day apart. I can't look at her daughter without thinking, "That's how big he would have been now."
People are always telling me I have the "perfect" family - two kids, a girl and a boy. I want to correct them - "I don't have two kids, I have three!" - but the words never get past the lump in my throat.
I bought a special Christmas ornament for the baby. We buy one for Topher and Ellie every year, so last year I added one extra. It's a glass ornament with a star inside. I didn't tell anyone what it meant. Just knowing, myself, is enough.
I used to go for walks in the evenings, after it happened. The song I had on repeat on my iPod was Rachael Lampa's "Feel". It really helped me in the days - weeks - months - following. I've been listening to it a lot lately, too.
After I had my miscarriage, I heard from other women - family, friends - who had experienced the same. It was nice to know I wasn't alone, but nobody talks about the "Even now". The two years later. I don't entirely understand the silence, but I know, for me, it's because it's still hard.
And I wonder if it will get any easier.