A not so merry Christmas.
A year ago my sister told the family that she was expecting. Almost 9 weeks! Which put her 9 weeks behind my pregnancy with Izzy. Most people would be so excited by this but my reality tends to differ from most. Instead of excitement I was struck with a heartbreaking thought. I was going to lose my child and watch hers grow up instead. I'd see her child taking its first steps, hear it say its first words and watch it grow healthy and strong. It was at that moment that the tiny flicker of hope, I'd just started having, died. I cried. I cried for the child in my womb. I cried for her eight siblings that have gone to heaven before her. I cried for myself. For all the firsts I'll never see. For all the little hands I never got to hold. And I cried for all the firsts I had that I'd never wish on anyone. I dont know why I knew I was going to lose this child too, but I did. In bitterness I thought it would probably happen on the anniversary of Denver's death. It was clos...