I'm afraid I'm going to forget you.
The rational side of my brain knows that's not possible, but that fear surfaces more than I'd care to admit.
I thought it was because we didn't have a lot of memories with you, and how many "firsts" we were going to miss out on. Your first breath, your first cry, your first smile, your first bath...
But you did give us memories - and a decent amount of "firsts."
The utter joy and shock of finding out I was pregnant with you. (I was on the phone with the nurse laughing and getting teary-eyed and your Dad was still whispering, "Yes? Did it work?") You were the first time I ever got to see a positive sign on a home pregnancy test.
The first time you made me aware of smells - I was asleep in the bedroom with the door closed, and your Dad took a piece of pie from the counter and threw it away. I woke up because I swore he was baking. (Might you have had a little sweet tooth?)
The first movement. I know it was too soon to really feel moving, but every night my stomach would get warm. Your Dad and I would joke that you were going to be a night owl, and we better enjoy sleep while we could. My right side would always be a little bit warmer and he and I laughed and called it your "hangout."
The first time we saw your heartbeat. You were this tiny little blob on a screen and moving like crazy! I remember holding your Dad's hand and just grinning like a fool.
The first time you didn't care for something I ate. Actually, it wasn't even food - I went to the dentist to have a temporary cavity put on a tooth (just a little bit of paste), and it didn't take long but it tasted gross. On the way to the car I stepped off the sidewalk and threw up in the grass. I remember thinking, "I can't blame you, I don't like the dentist either."
The first time you let me know something was wrong. Seeing all that blood was terrifying, but we took comfort when we got to see you on the screen again. We could have done without the weeks of "wait and see," but I realize now you were easing us into it. You kept your heart beating to give us more time; your first time taking care of us.
You made us parents. I struggle with that idea sometimes, but I know just because you're not here doesn't make us any less of a mother and a father. That was a first as well.
Thank you for all these memories - first and forever baby.