5 September


We’ll never meet, my sweet.

Three weeks after that clear ray of relief and hope your light went out.

Mere minutes in before those brutal words, so gently said, that pulled me into pieces:

“I’m so sorry but this little one didn’t make it.”

We don’t know why it wasn’t your time.

Unending whys, what ifs and buts and choked cries isn’t bringing you back.

I lie here scrunched, shocked, shivering.

The rollercoaster of excitement, anticipation, apprehension suspended, stopped short.

Now we grieve.

Not ready for the world, but always in our hearts.

So wanted, so precious, so sorry, sleep tight.


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