June 12.

A date engraved in my mind and heart.

The day our little girl was due to arrive in this world.

2 years ago today.

 

Adeline was born on February 20 instead.

Her body born and delivered into my arms

Her soul born and delivered into Heaven.

Our little Angel.

 

Today is a day full of wonder, sadness and confusion.

I see kids her age and can’t look at them.

I don’t want to look at them, I want to look at her.

I see pregnant mommies and can’t look at them.

I don’t want to look at them, I want to look at my own pregnant belly.

It is still a day that, 2 years later, still doesn’t feel real.

Her personality.

Her hair color.

Her favorite book.

The sound of her laugh.

It is an indescribable feeling to dream of these things and miss these things.

It’s confusing when these things never got the chance to be.

 

Milestone dates and holidays, they are painful and different.

Due date anniversary.

Birth date.

Mother’s Day.

Father’s Day.

Christmas.

Saturdays.

It has always been difficult to me that others don’t say anything.

That others don’t seem to remember.

I’ve never craved acknowledgement so much in my life as I do with her existence.

An existence that is ignored.

An existence that makes other people uncomfortable.

 

Adeline Angel, oh how I wish this was your second birthday.

I wish I knew if you were a kid that would dive right into your cake.

Or if you were a kid that wouldn’t like her hands dirty.

I wish family was here, and you were here.

And I wish your laugh was filling our backyard on this day.

 

Instead, I’m sitting in the backyard.

Phoebe is laying in the sun.

I have a book on grief sitting beside me.

 

And a giant yellow butterfly is dancing around the Snapdragons on the patio.

Is that you, sweet girl?

Thank you for visiting me on your due date anniversary.

I needed that.

I see you.

I love you.