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It’s been so long since I’ve written here. I guess I’m so caught up in Edward’s life that I don’t have that much time or energy to come back here and remember that short time you were here. It hardly feels real anymore.

It isn’t that I don’t miss you. I do. But it’s a little different for us than for other families. We never planned more than one child, and having your brother here, exactly one year behind you (because Mommy and Daddy like Valentine’s Day, apparently). I don’t have a whole lot to say, but it’s one of those dead baby holidays (and what a festive name they give it). They make me feel like a failure because I’m not really sitting around missing you. I’m not imagining you here, playing with your brother, because if you were here, he wouldn’t be. And that thought is horrible too.

It isn’t that I don’t love you. I do, and I always will. But I cannot imagine substituting one of my sons for the other, and I am profoundly grateful for what you taught me while you were here. You are part of me in a deep, unchangeable way that only becomes richer with time. You are why I appreciate things in the way I do. You are my gratitude, my perspective, my humor, my patience. You are the keeper of my wonder. I love you, always.

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