Over one third of a year
inside me…
never
to see him smile
or
laugh
or
breathe,
my seventh
tiny
angel
flies away.
  
Three weeks ago we lost our tiny baby.
At 18 weeks he was born quietly, without the joyous celebration we had expected and wanted for him.
My pregnancy had been uneventful and smooth.  There wasn’t a reason why he died the doctor said. Just another victim of my exaggerated immune system I imagine.  When I think I don’t have any more tears they seem to find me.
In the car,

in the grocery store when I see the baby aisle,
when talking with someone as pregnant as I would be now, 
when a friend calls to ask how the pregnancy is going…
Most recently at breakfast in a restaurant-
at the table next to us with two beautiful baby boys that looked like mine would have,
like his brothers did at that age, with beautiful fat baby cheeks and sweet blonde wisps of hair…

Grief is a strange animal.