I start crying out of nowhere sometimes. My tears are usually triggered by something specific, but sometimes they aren’t. Sometimes I just ache. I’m just sad, and it comes out. Will asks me what’s wrong, where my tears are coming from, and I say, “I’m just sad.” That’s all there is to it sometimes. We lost our daughter. We will never hear her giggle, never teach her silly songs, never kiss her sweet head as she “reads” us a book. We will never clean her poop out of the bathtub, never lie in bed with her until she falls asleep, never fight with her about how many bites of food she has to take before she can be finished with dinner. We will never rock her to sleep, never hate that her heart is broken, never want to choke the boy who broke her heart. We will never worry when she’s out on a date, never stress out about how much her wedding is going to cost, never rush to her side when she’s all grown up but still needs her parents. We will never celebrate her victories, never post her graduation pictures on Facebook, never look her in the eye and tell her how proud we are of her.
Some of these things are silly, I know, or gross – not exactly the things you look forward to about being a parent – but the truth is I want them all, and I’m sad that I won’t get them with Ella. Even if I get to be a mom to other kids, I’ll never have those experiences with my first baby, and that’s just sad.