March

Last year I wrote you here.

You were a spark then. A dream. And I'd wondered if you would always be that to me. A baby we'd wanted so badly. A baby. A baby frozen in time.

For with your brother we had a name, and a face. We could picture ball fields and all things boy.
With you. We didn't know. We don't know. And so I wondered, if you would be that- our forever baby. Due in March.

I wondered if I would think of you mostly in September, when our hearts broke, when your heart stopped-
Or you'd come to mind in March, when our hearts should have grown-

A year later I know the answer.
Both.

This March I am not folding my arms over a belly that should be swollen with life- I've been holding a new one. Your brother. A miracle that never would have been, had you. And I like to think you knew that. Knew last March that while I folded those hands over a belly I thought was empty- you knew- you knew that I was wrong- for there was a heart beating in there- a heart that would grow ours yet again.

And I know that.
And I feel peace.
And yet I still wonder what you would have been.
Who you would have been.

Weeks after losing you, I got the phone call that your cousin would be born, my Goddaughter would be born. And as happy as I was to hear those words- those wonderful words- that they were expecting- as happy as I was- I was more sad for us- and for you- for you would have grown up together- just a month apart.

And so like your brother, I have a living beautiful breathing reminder of what could have been.
But what wasn't meant to be.
You.
Not my forever baby.
My spark that would have been one.
One.
This month.
March.