It could be your third birthday today. It could be the day when we are having cake and ice cream for the second day in a row (because your big brother's birthday was yesterday). It could be the day we watch you open brightly wrapped gifts like trucks or trains or a new ball--who knows what would be capturing your interest these days. It could be a day where I marveled at the boy you've become--that you weren't a baby anymore. It could be the day where I told you stories of what it was like on the day of your birth and showed you pictures of your newborn self at the hospital. I would tell you just how in love with you I was. It could be the day when I made your favorite meal for supper. Would it have been pizza or macaroni and cheese? Maybe tomato soup or spaghetti?
Instead it is the day where I look back on all it could have been, on all that I wanted it to be. It's a day where I wonder if your hair would have been brown or blonde, your eyes hazel or blue. It's a day where I pray "why?" and wonder "why not?" It's a day when my arms ache to hold you, my lips long to kiss the top of your sweet head. It's a day when I look back at the day that was your birth day. I remember holding your lifeless body in my hands--how tiny and perfect were your little hands and feet! Today is the day where I can, once again, take a deep breath and choose to focus on my gratitude for all I had with you, instead of all I lost.