Dear Oliver

Dear Oliver,

It has been 288 days since we lost you. It isn't a particularly significant chunk of time. In fact, I had to look it up to find out the exact number. Somehow the number doesn't seem very important anymore. the difference between yesterday and 50 years doesn't seem to matter. What does matter is what we have missed together, but there is no point in adding it up. I don't need the subtotal of what I have missed so far, because I know the sum at the end. A lifetime. All. Everything.

Somedays it feels like it was stolen from me. Like you were stolen from me. I find myself wondering about the what ifs. Would you be 9 and a half months old today? That is how long it has been since I delivered you. Or would you have stayed put until your due date. Would you be 7 and a half months old today? How big would you be? Would you have hair yet? What songs would you like? I can't even miss those things because I will never know, so it feels like I lost them all. Every baby you could look like. Every life you could have had.

The only thing I know for certain is how much I love you, because fat or skinny, bald or hairy, no matter what I would love you. Alive or dead. It doesn't change, not after 288 days, not after all the days.

All my love,
Mama