It’s been five and a half weeks since my second daughter was stillborn. I should be nearly 35 weeks pregnant. Walking with that widened, waddling gait. Struggling to tie up my boots. Panicking about whether I’d actually be able to finish the dissertation. Full of the feeling that my girl and I inhabit a secret world, a quiet place where just the two of us send love and warmth and dreams and hope back and forth between us. I miss that world. Oh, how much I miss that world. My sweet girl. My little love. Because I can give you nothing else, these words are all for you.

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