It was one month ago that my sister told me that the baby she had been carrying no longer had a heartbeat. I was standing off in a corner of the Friendship Heights metro stop away from several other co-workers with whom I’d just had dinner. We were on our way back to our hotel at White Flint, when I noticed I’d missed three calls from my sister. I didn’t think that meant anything good, so I called her while we waited for our train. She answered the phone with a tear-choked voice and let me know that my little niece or nephew to-be, was now no longer. I was broken hearted. After returning to my hotel room with a lump in my throat, I climbed into bed with a hotel pen and my journal.
How did we lose you
before we could even hold you?
Our nine months of waiting to meet you
have turned into a lifetime.
You captured our hearts
as quickly as you were snatched away.
On us your memory is permanently engrained
although your physical presence
was only ever a seed of hope.
You are loved, Little One,
and the tears we drop for you will
continue to grow this seed of hope
that one day we will be able to meet you face to face.